Logs:Stare Down
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 18 June, 2014 |
| Who: A'rist, Jadzia, Leova, Lythronath |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Lythronath bleeds on the courtyard. Jadzia, uh, challenges him for territory? |
| Where: Courtyard, Crom Hold |
| When: Day 6, Month 1, Turn 35 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Heavy Rain |
    |
| The rain has been miserably persistent throughout the day, but that means that it's at least above freezing and that there aren't many people milling about in Crom's great courtyard. Jadzia isn't one of the smarter people that have gone inside, instead settled on an overturned barrel under the awning where a merchant might usually set themselves up during weather that sucks less. It's not, by any means, warm out. But the blonde has a flask and her hood pulled up over her head. It seems to be working out pretty well for her as she watches the few people that are braving the rain pass by. A'rist and Lythronath are, apparently, not in that group of 'smarter people' either. The bronze shows up out of nowhere, barrelling out of the cloud-cover to land hard in the courtyard. Purposefully hard, with talons scraping the floor of the courtyard. Lythronath was here. Lythronath is here, flicking his wings irritably, his tail swinging back and forth, click-growls issuing from his throat. A'rist seems as eager to be on the move again, jumping from his dragon even though said dragon has not stopped his motions, skidding a bit, and then pressing toward one of those massively muscled back limbs. It's hard to see the damage from a long scrape there, with the rain hitting it, mixing with leaking ichor. Dragon circles rider, bobbing his head. Rider squints pulls a glove and prods at the wound. No really, everything's fine here. Up on the fireheights, the old blue watchdragon rumbles unhappily. Every time he looks downward, though, he looks away again before it can become a stare. Other than the watchdragons, who tend to stay up on the heights watching, dragons aren't the most common sight to see appearing in the courtyard. Not for anything good, anyway. And not in this sort of weather. Jadzia only watches for now, eyes peering out from under the hood of her oversized jacket. It's not like Lythronath is the most approachable of dragons. But she's not motionless, rising to her feet and taking a drink before capping her flask and putting it away. Lythronath greets that rumbling watchdragon up there with a snap of his teeth, accompanied by a mental roar of his name, his Weyr. As if there were any question of who he was. Lythronath is still here. But now, that's a problem. A'rist grits his teeth together, bringing the sleeve of his jacket to try wipe some rain from his face, where it drips, and sticks a finger in the scrape. The bronze, at least, stops moving his hindquarters, long enough that his rider can pull his finger back out, and use both hands to attempt an awning. Undiluted ichor will tell him more. And no, he's not looking toward real awnings, or barrels, or any of that. The watchdragon hunkers down in response, wings pasting back to his sides. A high whine escapes his throat as he backs away from the fireheights' edge, resonating eerily with the courtyard's stone: not the usual thing audible from below, rain or shine. Jadzia continues watching unnoticed, the way she likes it, really. But the strange sound from the fireheights seems to unnerve her enough to shift her jacket against the rain before she's stepping out from under the awning. She eyes the bronze warily and still keeps a certain distance from the pair as she calls out, "Everything okay, dragonrider? Do you need... help?" Does she really want to offer it? Possibly not. A'rist has brought his eyebrows just about even with his hands - as much as he can, anyway, without blocking out the light - and is peering. Right up until Jadzia steps out, which is when Lythronath sees her, his tail stilling, poised, his head lowering to sniff. It's a menacing look, those broad eyes, that narrow snout. A'rist is looking that way as well, by the time his dragon scents the air. One hand has come away from Lythronath's hide. "You should probably stay back," is projected, loud, with no indication of having heard her offer. High in the air, yet another dragon appears, as though two weren't enough already. Identifying details would be difficult for humans to see even from the heights, the more so in this rain, but far less so for dragons as Vrianth spirals her descent. Fortunately Jadzia already seems to have no intention of getting any closer than she is right now. She might even take a slow step or three backwards when the dragon's attention turns directly on her, but she stands a little taller and glares back at him for making her withdraw in the first place. Her gaze only breaks away to glance up once the dragon above has spiraled down enough to draw attention through the rain. Right. She'll just stay right here. Lythronath carries on breathing hot, wet air into the cold wet surrounding him, falling on him, foiling his rider's inspection. He's still, now. Except for a bunching of muscle, which makes A'rist step out to the side, a bit away. The young bronzerider squints now, with full attention, at Jadzia. Her glance up is what directs his the same direction. "Faranth," muttered. Lythronath doesn't look away from Jadzia, but he throws a mental nudge up against Vrianth. He knows she's there. Just like he knows it's the watchdragon's fault. Cool electricity sheds static against even an incipient touch, as Vrianth veers easily out of range. Physically, too, at least for now. The green lands beyond the courtyard, forcing her rider to trudge with her rucksack up the ramp through the rain. If Leova minds, it doesn't register in her set expression as she pauses just inside the courtyard to assess the situation. Her gaze drops back down to the bronze and Jadzia puffs out an annoyed breath in the dragon's general direction before her eyes slide toward his rider again. "Should I go get someone for you?" she speaks up again. She's probably noted Leova and, hey, if the greenrider can hear her, too, maybe she'll get some response out of somebody. Focused on Jadzia, now, A'rist does better. The question brings a wrinkle to his nose, a strange twist to his mouth. "No," sounds almost like a question. "It's not that bad," comes on a backward step, one that has him turning back toward Lythronath. He's still staring at the young woman, and gives one click in his throat as his rider mops some of the spill and rainwater away from the tear in his hide once more. The greenrider's gaze passes over the humans, but it's on the dragon that it stays. "Too late," she calls, low, Tillek-inflected. Watching Lythronath means noting that much more of Jadzia, however, given the direction of his stare. "Staying still as you are, that's a good thing, girl. A'rist. Is it just the haunch?" Even with the dragon staring at her with that unnerving intensity, Jadzia doesn't really get it. She should, probably. It's not that she doesn't recognize a predatory interest. But it's a dragon. Aren't they supposed to be helpful or something? Isn't that why Weyrs take their food and goods even now when they're practically useless? Jadzia shifts, shaking water off of her jacket, then moves forward to reclaim the few steps she'd lost to Lythronath's initial attention and maybe try to get a better view. That's probably not going to matter given the distance she's still at. "How did it get hurt?" Yeah. It. A'rist only belatedly looks for Vrianth; he hadn't watched her land. "That's all," he agrees to Leova, first, though he's quick to add, "It's really not that bad." When Jadzia steps forward, so does Lythronath, helpfully answering what he knows is an attempt to claim space, a few more clicks coming from the back of his throat. "Just got scraped," still has some sound of a subtle protest, though A'rist is certainly not standing in Leova's way. Even if it was Jadzia's question. Not still. Not helpful. Leova keeps an eye on Lythronath. On Jadzia, half an eye, though that's A'rist's job. "Where? Did it happen." And, "Stopped bleeding yet? Hard to see," that last dissatisfied. She doesn't, yet, approach. The dragon moving narrows Jadzia's eyes and makes her go tense. Standing off with a bronze like Lythronath is probably not one of her finer moments. It's probably not one of her worst, either. "I'm not afraid of you," she yells at him, just the way someone who is afraid would try to cover it up. But she's standing still again. For now. Lythronath moves a little bit more into that no-man's land between them - Lythronath's land, now - and stops, head lowering a bit more, swaying just slightly from side to side, though there can be no doubt that his eyes are staying on the woman in front of him. A'rist looks sidelong at Jadzia, giving an impression of a raised eyebrow when really it's just part of the directionality, and, after a moment, is comfortable to turn back to Leova. "That's what I was trying to figure out." "Keep him settled, would you, and I'll do it." But Leova looks at Jadzia, first. "See it happen?" she asks after A'rist's negation. Listening, she walks back towards that hind leg, but watchful and light on her feet. In case. It's Lythronath. Jadzia stands her ground, glaring at Lythronath, but she's good with not moving any closer, not claiming more of the space between them. He stops, after all. There's a brief glance toward the man she's pretty sure is his rider, perhaps wondering what his point is, but not willing to keep her gaze off of the dragon for longer. Not that staring at him will likely do her much good if he gets closer. That's thinking too far ahead. Thinking too far ahead for Lythronath, too. The bronze seems satisfied enough. Which is good, because it means that back leg is now holding fairly still, but for bunching and releasing of muscle as that swaying motion of his head translates along his body. "Wasn't looking that way," A'rist answers, with a little shake of his head. "Not sure how long. Flying probably didn't help, but," and his face goes a bit fuzzy, "I think it's stopping." "Mm." At least it's not dark and raining. Leova secures her hood so it won't fall back and, after digging in her rucksack, tugs out a presumably-clean white cloth to hold up to the wound, not quite touching. If he's still bleeding ichor, it'll drip green. If not, it'll just get less interestingly wet. Maybe Jadzia has caught onto the idea that if she stands still, so does the bronze. So she'll just stand there, staring at him, refraining from the urge to look for something to throw at him (definitely not her flask). When she speaks up again, she asks, "What's its name?" "Lythronath," answers A'rist. The dragon's name spoken doesn't distract him from his dead-on stare. He turns to follow Leova's tactics, fairly relaxed. Lythronath's tail twitches to one side. In time, to the other. The towel stays, stubbornly, white. Leova might even look... disappointed. She shrugs, eyes what she can see of the foreshortened bronze, and walks over to the other two. "False alarm. It happens. Could be worse." She glances back over her shoulder, back at them. "Later, A'rist. And... what's your name, girl?" "Lythronath," repeats Jadzia, probably not loud enough for either of them to hear it. But that's a name she probably won't forget anytime soon. It's a few moments before she offers her own name because she's still staring at the bronze. "Jadzia." "You mean it wasn't that bad?" asks A'rist, a bit of a smirk trying at his face. It doesn't quite make it to cocky, but there are shades of it. And Lythronath is staring right back at Jadzia. "That's why we didn't call." Only now does he think to map at his face again, the rain almost forgotten during the inspection - and stand-off. "That's why you didn't call. Not like you've met your quota this seven, A'rist, we got to take these things seriously." Leova's not smiling, but her timbre suggests it nonetheless. Onward: "Well met, Jadzia." With that, she's striding off, and sooner than later Vrianth will disappear only barely above the ground. Jadzia doesn't glance over at Leova as she leaves because that would mean looking too far away from the bronze. So she just stares. Eventually one of them will give up. Probably her. |
Leave A Comment