Logs:Stories Of Great Bravery
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| RL Date: 28 May, 2013 |
| Who: Cadejoth, Solith |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Injured Solith reaches out and finds Cadejoth. He visits. |
| Where: Dragon Infirmary, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 28, Month 11, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Sabella/Mentions |
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| Day two, or rather, night two. Solith probably should be resting, but the infirmary is big and she is small and she's been resting and so the light breeze of her thoughts spins out into the dark. Somewhere, out there, there's something that will let itself be moved even by only a whisper. (To Cadejoth from Solith) A length of chain, perhaps - the finely wrought stuff, the kind that might be used to hang a pendant on, or to clink so prettily around a woman's fine-boned wrist. Cadejoth has such chains in his arsenal, and now, as they ripple in that whisper of a breeze, his awareness follows: he's here. Listening. (To Solith from Cadejoth) Weightier, more massive chains have entertained her in the past, once trying to see just how solid he can make his thought and still let her disturb it, but now... now, such dainty chain is right up her alley. She wreathes herself around the lowermost two links, the better to try and get them to clink sweetly like a chime. « If you wanted to come to this place, » she notes when finally she gets around to words, « they would not dare stop you. Did you ever live here? » Does he ever remember staying there, that vast cavern with its old, not always unpleasant smells? (To Cadejoth from Solith) As if anyone could ever stop Cadejoth. Ever, ever, ever. She's got his attention, now, and if those fine, finer, finest links tinkle a little more like bells than they might if they were real... well, and why shouldn't they? « Not I, » he's (almost) certain. « Though I have been there. Do you wish visitors? » Does it hurt? Does she hurt? (To Solith from Cadejoth) She enjoys those. After all, this is real enough to such as they, isn't it? And now that Cadejoth asks... « I would very much like a visitor, please, » Solith replies with her nicest manners. It might hurt. She might hurt. There's her flank, there, it still sort of aches, she musn't lie on it. But he'd be a good distraction, here or there. (To Cadejoth from Solith) But of course. After all... what is 'real ', in the end? And who minds? (Not Cadejoth.) « Then a visitor you shall have, » he promises, avuncular. She'll get the sensation of wind beneath wings, too, in the time that follows-- his wings, aimed in a downward spiral. « How long shall you stay? Will you fly again soon? » It is, after all, a tragic possibility: the loss of flight. (To Solith from Cadejoth) « Not long, » although Solith's time-sense isn't necessarily to be trusted. « I was gone before, but then we had to come back, » and it was awful. « Tomorrow I shall... » Solith breaks off because not only is it a tragic possibility, it's one that she refuses to find thinkable. If he can be avuncular, she can tug on the sense of wind as though it were her own, as though it could possibly bring him closer, faster. (To Cadejoth from Solith) To Solith, Cadejoth will ignore the unthinkable, and focus instead upon the prospect of a return to the air for poor Solith, perhaps one that involves him flying alongside her (because it's always better when he gets to fly, too). « Tomorrow, » he agrees, contentedly, even as the unwieldy thump of his drop from the sky warns that he really will be here soon. Here. There. Somewhere. Much, much better. Flying for all! In the meantime, while she's supposed to stay in the dragon infirmary... from within might be heard, at least by dragon senses, the whispery sound of footsteps making their delicate way from only slightly deeper within the infirmary to outside. Not that she's going outside. There is a line, and Solith knows it... but she knows right where that line is. Exactly. She can stretch her muzzle across it to watch for Cadejoth, at least, her eyes gleaming and unlidded in the darkness, because that's not a paw. That doesn't count as crossing. (To Cadejoth from Solith) It's an important lesson, and Cadejoth seems pleased (and proud?) that Solith has learned it: good Solith, wise Solith. He pads across the bowl towards that yawning entrance, half-lunging towards her once she's in sight-- a lunge that is drawn short, of course; no collisions. « Solith, » he says, a greeting, despite the fact that they've been in conversation for some time already. He's here, now, all jangling chains and ruffling, furled wings. (To Solith from Cadejoth) Has anyone called Solith wise before, even facetiously? She wiggles, starting to rise up onto her haunches at his onrush onto to wince and drop back down. Not 'too unhappily, because he's there! and also she's just had a decent application of numbweed that he might be able to smell, but she's delighted and stretches her neck out to sniff noses. « Do you want to see it? » That's what everyone else seems to want to do, after all. (To Cadejoth from Solith) To Solith, Cadejoth's answer is prompt. « Do you want to show it? » Because he's not opposed, certainly, but if she's tired of showing it off... Anyway, she looks healthy enough otherwise, which is good! What he will certainly do is return that nose sniff, huffing warm, meaty air in her direction (because that's what friends do, clearly). « How did it happen? » he wonders, then. What a good question. « Maybe? » The meaty air had smelled awfully tasty, but Solith can bring herself to swing around, carefully, the better to expose her hindquarters to the moonlight and peer back at them so she can see too. One side: the ripple of muscle beneath smooth hide that's greeny-blue in the moons' light. The other side: marred by a poultice atop blisters, some of them popped, some of those darker where they'd had to be cleaned out again. It hasn't been so long that she doesn't remember, though it doesn't carry the emotional weight it had before. Soon, it will carry less and less. « We were flaming and it was magnificent and not just things that held still anymore, but 'moving targets' they are called, and it was wonderful. » Until it wasn't. There might have been a distraction in there, too. There's a vague sense of mists overlaid upon the scents of a couple different dragons, plus a third who'd been sent away. (To Cadejoth from Solith) To Solith, Cadejoth hunkers down upon the ground, making himself comfortable in a way that will no doubt block the entrance for others... but who would need to come in? He'll move if he needs to. His neck cranes up as Solith swings around, whirling gaze tracking down the length of her body and coming to rest upon that poultice-covered patch. « Flaming is magnificent, » he confirms, recalling - without any of the weight of the queens that made it so abominable at the time - his most recent adventures at such, high above a distant hold, paint-targets burned and burned to ash. « Of course it was wonderful. I'm sure you were wonderful. And will be again, when it all heals. Mine... » he hesitates. « Wishes to know that yours is well. Calm. » She admires the scene, the height, the burning, the audience. Mostly, the burning. And flying, too! « We will go there, » Solith says as she circles about again, letting her tail flick out over the line just because she can. « I have seen it. » Then she's all the way back behind the line again, even the parts that don't count because they're above, and peering out at him with those big opalescent eyes some more. The praise is delightful! As for her rider, « Oh, she is calm, » the young green provides, presenting a soft-focus if not exactly flattering vision of her rider upon the cot by the couch she'd just abandoned, the girl's jaw slightly slack in sleep, one arm flung out and one foot bare where it sticks out from the furs. Solith may not be wholly joking when she teases, « Such times are when she is the most calm of all. » Even, it goes unspoken, with her dreams. (To Cadejoth from Solith) It's entirely possible that Cadejoth's mental recitation of the event is missing some details. It may even have been exaggerated-- his flame doesn't actually arc so, does it? Does it really make shapes in the sky? Oh, but it should, and perhaps that's reason enough. « Good, » he says, which could be in answer to a lot of things. Does it matter? (Has he shown this image of Tela to his rider, or simply passed on the image of it?) « And she is taking good care of you. » That's definitely not a question. How could it be otherwise? « And soon you will both return home. » (To Solith from Cadejoth) It's safe, isn't it? Surely Solith wouldn't try betweening to his vision... would she? She's delighted by the shapes, which she lets him know are much better than clouds. Cadejoth's question may not truly be a question, but Solith answers it anyway, proud. « Very good care. She yelled when I rolled in the dirt, but so did the healer, and she was so very much more careful in cleaning than the healer was. She gives me lots of attention and reminds me not to roll again, even if it does itch every once in a while. It is healing then, she says. » Still, home... and there's the longed-for vision of her tricky, tricky ledge. « You would not be able to land there if I did not wish you to, » Solith says comfortably. « No one could, except maybe Ghislaith, but I never mind her. » Rarely mind, anyway. She might not remember a time or two where both of them got snappish. (To Cadejoth from Solith) Safe. Surely. It certainly doesn't occur to Cadejoth that this might need remarking upon; he's busy exaggerating it further, until it's bright-brighter-brightest, and then brighter still, such a happy thought. « Good, » he says, approvingly. « That's as it should be. I know K'del would do the same. » The itching-- well, that just requires more oil, doesn't it? Sun-warmed oil, somewhere delightfully warm... she can go to such places, soon. Where the water meets the sand. « I would not, » he agrees. « It's all yours. » He's forgotten, probably, the time she landed on his ledge - that's why he's so quick to add, « But you would be welcome on mine. » (To Solith from Cadejoth) Bright, Solith finds just delightful, at least here where the brilliance won't trouble her sensitive eyes. And more approval! She likes that too. And the very thought of such warmth, she leans into it enough to almost, almost put a paw over the line before she catches herself. « Of course it is, » she says, all graciousness. « Well, and if I am welcome there, I may welcome you here, » which is not really there where they are, but there in her head,« if you fit. It is not so difficult to land upon with no one in your way, » and they had decided at one point that Cadejoth was clever, hadn't they? She's pretty sure she remembers that. (To Cadejoth from Solith) Even if they hadn't decided that Cadejoth is clever... he is. He so is. So it's good that they've agreed on this. « Then we are agreed, » he adds, and it's not about his cleverness, now, so much as his welcome. Their welcome. « I will make myself fit, if I can. If I visit you, now that I am welcome to do so. Of course - we can always simply go out. » Out - out into the world, where there are thermals to meet, and interesting things to see. « Once you are well. » For now, however, he'll stay where he is, comfortable in his stretched-out position upon the cool stone. (To Solith from Cadejoth) « Good, » Solith determines happily, and she tries stretching out too like a miniature mirror, though she has to go easy on that one haunch of hers. « Once I am well. » For now, as long as they're staying where they are, perhaps she may persuade Cadejoth to tell her more stories of Out... as long, at least, as she too remains awake. And maybe a little longer yet. (To Cadejoth from Solith) Wide awake, now, whether or not he was, Cadejoth is more than happy to tell stories (even if many of them are stories of his bravery, excellence, and general awesome. Just as it happens. It's not HIS fault!). He'll probably be conscious of when she falls asleep, but... well. Can a bronze be blamed for continuing his stories just a little longer, to conclude with a, « And that is what happened, out there on the reef. » Just so. Good night. (To Solith from Cadejoth) |
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