Logs:Swan (Firelizard) Song
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| RL Date: 24 September, 2015 |
| Who: Alida, Jo |
| Type: Log |
| What: Alida completes her end of the deal; a Greenfields contact gets his (firelizard), and so do a few hangers-on. One current and one former Glacier riders reconnect. |
| Where: A southern Beach |
| When: Day 25, Month 11, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Partly sunny, warm. |
| Mentions: K'del/Mentions, Lanvec/Mentions, Mielline/Mentions, Taikrin/Mentions |
| Storyteller: Jo/ST |
| OOC Notes: Backdated. Thanks for the ST, Jo. :) |
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Golden stand stretches in both directions for as far as the eye can see, broken only by the occasional encroaching cliff, the ancient stone formed into rockpools and outcroppings. Inland, open sand is gradually taken over by lush greenery: dense forest extending all the way back to distant mountains that might even be days of walking from here. The ocean, too, stretches out unbroken: there's no other land to be seen, nothing but blue and blue and blue until the point at which it hits the horizon, where blue meets another kind of blue, in the endless, cloudless sky. A tent-like structure has been strung up between trees and a few tall posts, providing shelter from the hot sun. There are no tables, and no chairs, beneath it, however: just a few haphazardly slung blankets, providing only the most basic comfort. A few paces beyond the edge of the tent is a bonfire built from driftwood. The water is shallow, here, protected by a sandbar a few lengths out. Jo normally does not come in contact with any of Lanvec's clients. However, with both Mime and Pyrite tetchy about their babies, and a promise that a firelizard egg was to go to Lanvec (or a client of his, rather), Jo has no choice but to meet said client and arrange for a meeting with Alida. The beach down south is not too hot this early evening, lending long before the sen sets. With Tacuseth far off to the side, the man standing next to Jo is balding and looks every bit the holder from the north. Pale skinned, the aged man looks to the sky as he expects a dragon to arrive, so far remaining ever silent beside the convict rider. As for her, she won't be one to initiate conversation. 'Transfers' like this are tricky, given the unpredictable manner of birth, but as soon as the first of those final four eggs starts to move, Alida's excusing herself from Glacier's drills - having gotten prior permission from Taikrin - and having Ilicaeth transport all of the 'guard cadre' from 'Reaches to that agreed-upon spot down South. Uncharacteristically, Ilicaeth remains silent as he emerges from Between to notice Tacuseth, the burly blue soon landing not far from his bro, and finally disgorging all his passengers after a good 4 minutes is taken to transfer those sack-enclosed eggs in a basket safely from dragon to ground. Unless Jo can be spared to help her, the helmet-clad Alida will then take a bit more time hustling her large burden over to the main group of people, sweat sprouting from her skin with the efforts of moving quickly through sand bearing about 50 pounds of awkward. Above her head, Pyrite chatters incessantly at the haste of it all, her eyes a mixture of yellow, orange, and blue. When Ilicaeth arrives, Jo moves. She leaves the balding man there, wordlessly walking over to help Alida in the transfer of those eggs. She glances occasionally up at Pyrite, which suddenly Mime winks in from Between and sends a quirk staccato of chirps the little gold's way as if to soothe her. "Are they close?" the convict rider asks, reaching out to take some of the burden off with a look towards the firelizards flying over them. Sighing briskly in relief for Jo's help, Alida quietly notes as they hustle along, "One is. Other three might've started en-route. Dunno." A quick look out to those others gathered beyond them incites a terse, "They're gonna have ta wait, no matter, if they want one. Don' wanna subject the eggs another time ta Between." If it takes a day, it takes a day. Overhead, Pyrite chitters anxiously back to Mime, her flight taking her in an ellipse around him before she resumes a larger circle over Alida, and now Jo's heads. As the two near that small knot of menfolk, Pyrite starts to hum instead of chatter, the little gold swooping down to land on the bobbing basket of sand, and hold tight as she works to unbury a particular egg. "Do ya Impress them all? Let'em go wild?" Jo asks as they move, seeming to concede to what Alida answers. Mime follows Pyrite for the most part, swooping over and around Alida and Jo before he settles near the eggs. Jo's client turns to watch them, but he does not come to help. Rather, he gives both Pyrite and Mime a wary watch as things proceed, and when the humming starts - something Mime takes up as well - the client starts with slow steps to approach. "Unless ya c'n find others who want a flit quick, I ain't got a problem with the rest goin' wild. No natterin' humans ta keep 'em restrained." Smirkie. Huffed: "Feel free ta go rustle up any others who might want a companion, if ya think anymore uv' yer folk 're uv' a mind. I c'n handle a lone holder." And more. Closing with that man as they are, apparently he's eager to close his own distance, too, with the combined humming of Mime and Pyrite. And he can even make it most of the way towards them before the antsy momma hisses in growing agitation, mantling her wings protectively over the basket. Come no closer, mortal! "I only brought the one," and Jo turns to gesture behind her towards the balding man slowly making his way towards them, "'n Mime's enough for me. 'Less ya mean the locals 'round here." The client does pause his steps when Pyrite hisses at him, looking at Jo with wide eyes. She merely rolls her eyes at Alida and doesn't bother to reassure him. Mime doesn't hiss at him, but he's backwinging behind the gold, seeming to take a position of protecting the mama with a few cheeps. "Local's 're fine, unless they're shitty at dealin' with animals." Jo knows Alida's stance on abusive humans. Those other three eggs, now partially unburied by zealous Pyrite, seem to be quiescent at the moment, but the first dug-out one is shaking, shivering, and now has small cracks forming upon its almost pearlescent surface. "One's enough fer me, too..." the younger bluie comments, almost ignoring the halted holder and his widening eyes while they get the basket settled and situated upon the beach sands. While the little gold hums and watches her eggs - and while Mime does the diligent guarding thing - Alida looks over the man *now*, and raps off instructions like a clinician. Jo's likely heard them before: all the ways to properly Impress a firelizard, how not to piss off the parents, how to feed them and oil them properly...but there's a few others that are not so 'standard.' "Firelizards got their own minds, though they Impress. Ya hurt 'r mistreat one, they go wild...'r go Between fer good ta get away." Stare. "Firelizards tend ta communicate easily with one another." Pointed look from Pyrite to shaking egg to Holder. "They *know* about one another." Get the hint? Looking around them at those few loitering on the beach, "Gonna be hard to tell at this short notice," Jo comments on the first, not trying to be funny. Mime watches and hums at the one egg that's moving, choosing now to land near his queen. The balding client is wide eyed and listening as Alida fires those instructions off, nodding at this and that like the very motion might set off the tetchy firelizard parents since it's mechanically done. "Yeah. Yeah," he finally speaks up, looking to Jo for confirmation. The wingsecond merely shrugs at him when he does so, the gesture as if to say back 'hey, this isn't my party you're at'. Back to Alida, the Holder says, "I understand." This one kicks the eggshell habit fast, that pearly egg splitting along it short axis and disgorging a sand plus good encrusted little brown, who immediately lurches to his feet and shrills hungrily. "You'd better have meat on ya..." Alida notes briskly to the Holder, because she and Jo probably do not. Honestly, the blonde wouldn't really give two shits if the brown went wild instead of Impressing...except she *did* say she'd come through for Jo, and she *is* being paid handsomly for the baby. When that little brown hatches, the balding man stumbles forward and nearly trips on his own feet as he reaches about himself to pull out some meat. He's moving forward to try and tempt the little brown with the meat, Jo watching off the side with Alida with her arms folded. "He's prepared," she says to her, chin lifting as she looks around. She doesn't seem concerned about whether he Impresses or not either, though she's eventually watching. Even if he's an idiot and/or a klutz...well, Alida doesn't care, as long as he's a responsible pet owner. Ultimately, the brown shreds the offered meat, and winds up curling up sleepily on the Holder's palm. Another of those pointed, but not truly hostile looks from Alida to him is followed by another egg's wibbling, followed within 20 minutes by its two brethren. During this time, the bluerider leaves the flits and Jo to guard the rest of the clutch, while *she* goes to suss out those hangers-on farther beyond them. If they can't pass the hard and fast (and very militaristically-delivered) crucible of her cold assessment, then none of them will be allowed near the eggs. The client continues to offer up food, even if the little brown is curling up in his palm. Jo watches from a distance with a nod, then as Mime chirps about the other eggs moving, she turns to watch Alida head off to corral more potential owners. To the client, "Is it to yer satisfaction, sir?" she asks him, to which the balding man is lengthy in his silence before answering with, "Yes. A brown is good luck. We all need good luck in these troubling times." - "My times are hardly troubled, darlin'," the convict rider counters to that, looking away. "But brown is a good omen. As long as yer pleased, then he's pleased'n that's all that matters to me." Good luck her ass. A brown is a brown...and if Alida had time to comment (or could even hear Jo and the holder talking, right now), she'd be rolling those green eyes right out of her head. As it is, there's precious little time to pick three 'acceptable' choices from the hangers-on at the beach. And when one of the girls in that group is coolly rejected for her painfully thin attempt to cover up her narcissistic self-involvement, there's only that pitiless roll of eyes for her tossing of a teary-eyed fit. Ultimately, one young man, one boy, and a young woman are pointed over to the basket, told to march over and to do what they're told. Hopefully Jo can wrangle them before Alida jogs back...and hopefully there's some meat to be found somewhere. It's the boy who outraces the other two, and soon enough he winds up with a yammering green hatchling clinging to his arm, demanding food. And the other two? *They* are going to have to wait another couple of hours before 'their' eggs pop, and release a blue and another pair of greens, who are just as eager to have their faces stuffed and tired selves petted. "Do ya have extra meat?" Jo asks of the client as the three chosen ones come towards them for the remaining eggs. "We can get more for yers once we're back on our soil." Now that the balding man has one curled to him, he's more amiable than before and nods as he gestures toward a sack in the sand nearby belonging to him. To the boy that quickly Impresses, "Open up that sack'n feed her," she commands to him, cutting a glance towards the other ones whose firelizards haven't arrived yet. "Should be enough for all of ya," she raises her voice to say. "Enough to entice'em, anyway. Do what ya could'n get home to keep up their feedin'." Nothing like tag-teaming wanna-be Impresees. Between 'heartless' Alida and efficient Jo, in a couple hours there's only a litter of shell pieces and fed baby flits left, Pyrite trilling her joy and relief, and trying to urge Mime into aerial displays of such with her. No more babies! Fly free, little gold! Those 'poor kids' also got that little 'talk' from Alida about not really wanting to let her 'trust' down as far as being decent owners is concerned. In the end, the helmeted blonde winds up leaning a bit against Jo, if she'll tolerate that...Alida appearing a little frazzled, tired. Quietly, in aside to the other bluie, "*So* fuckin' glad this's over with." And glad there won't be another repeat for at least another few Turns. With Pyrite flying about Mime is there to join her - she is much happier now, after all. Both parents are free and the bronze is just as joyful as his queen. Once the kids are off with their new companions, and the client is lingering some ways off with his own, Jo lets the bluerider lean against her as she answers back, "'Least it doesn' happen often like a greenflight. Can't imagine ya doin' this all the time, but, I hear the lil' greens behave less responsibly with their own clutches. Yer alright?" Nod. "Seems many green do, yeah...at least from what I've learned from the dragonhealers." Puff. "Some 'r great mammas, though, seems. Just depends on the personality. Shit; heard uv' a gold 'r three - even dragons - that ain't much on the whole momma-ing thing." Southern Weyr's Fortian transplant Isyath is one of those not-so-motherly queens. As for being 'alright,' Alida's lips thin a bit, thouh she nods. "Waitin' fer the other shoe ta drop about the whole Wing closure rumor...an' hopin' it never does. Our fearless Weyrleader's been back home fer a few sevens, so... " Shrug. Here's to fervent hoping. Speaking of... Jo gets a long side look from her buddy, Alida quietly noting, "Please tell me yer...transfer was fer political reasons." Only a small part of that tired alto wishes to be lied to, in case Jo just abandoned Glacier. "'Spose," Jo concedes on the greens and the golds, watching those still lingering around them with their charges. "Either way, I'm glad Mime's a bronze." She eyes Alida now when she brings up Glacier, the snort a soft one on K'del. "If it's true'n he does?" she asks her with a glance. "What will ya do? Where will ya go? He seems the sort to choose a wing for ya." But the next question is more personal, and the convict rider, looks toward the setting sun as she says, "I chose a better deal when it looked like Glacier was goin' under, darlin'. I rather not have a Weyrleader choose my own wing for me. I....didn' want to go," she admits, looking at Alida fully. "Ya know how I am 'bout that wing. 'Bout Taikrin'n you 'n Sabs. Taikrin doesn' need nor want a 'second. We both know that." "I'm quietly lookin' inta other...possibilities," Alida finally admits to Jo, the blonde looking a little upset, a bit angry, though her emotions are under firm control. "Know I'm too...'guard' fer Savannah." Especially since R'hin told her so. "*If* I gotta, I think I could learn ta exist in Alpine." If they'd have her. "Fuck if I'll let that..." Perhaps oddly, the blonde self-edits what she was about to say. "Do what I got ta, no matter. Survived worse than bein' forced out uv' a Wing...*if* it closes." For, just like with Jo, Glacier feels like HOME to her. "Okay..." is dully replied to the other bluie of their favored Wing. She's "trusting" Jo's words. "Yeah...likely never will..." of Taikrin. Unless something happens to stir Glacier's pot. Looking down and over at the abandoned basket of sand, Alida slowly sighs, and then quietly notes to her womance partner, "I need a fucking drink. How 'bout the Sandbar? Feelin' highbrow, at the moment." Snerk. Perhaps Jo can feel Alida's anger despite the censor of words, and woman draws fingers to the other bluerider's cheek in wordless response to all of it. It's an intimate gesture, but brief. "I dunno what K'del'll do," she says aloud, drawing her fingers away as she straightens up. "I hope for all's sake that Glacier is left alone as it's meant to be. In some way, I 'spose it's best this whole mess has forced me to act. I'm actually findin' bein' a 'second agrees with me, though I'd prefer bein' it in Glacier. Mielline's isn' so bad, though, we're still learnin' each other. Miss havin' ya for a wingmate, y'know. We can still see each other." There's a lopsided grin for her before stepping away at the talk of drink. "Let's," she agrees, motioning to get her client's attention. "Just need to drop off the charge here first." Is it a sign of Alida's 'aging' that she's not only 'tolerating' contact from certain people, but actually enjoying it? That fingertip carress of her cheek calms the often-wound-up bluie some, and those once-snapping green eyes mellow. "Glacier's...it's...it "is 'Reaches." So, to Alida, getting rid of Glacier would be tantamount to disbanding the Weyr, in some way...and it's something she just cannot quite wrap her head around, completely. After listening further to Jo, there's finally a grudging nod as the younger bluie slowly stands fully on her own two feet. "Miss you too," is quietly murmured, the guard then shaking her head to try and clear off some of the sentimental feeling. "Ain't gonna let a little thing like you gainin' ground keep me from hauntin' ya." Smirk. As for dropping off her charge back at home, "Go on ahead. I gotta dump the sand, put those kids in line with shit a little more. Whoever gets there first - first round's on them." Beat. "Think I'm in the mood fer one uv' those tasty, slushy rum-fruit things." Spoken as if Jo will be the first one arriving at Ista. Grinning, "If only others saw Glacier as we do," Jo says, agreeing with her. As to anything like different wings keeping them apart, "Good," she states with a firm nod. "Won' be around much for dart games in Snowasis, but that's alright. We'll make our own tradition somewhere. I'll see ya later? It shouldn' take me long'n if ya get there first, I want whiskey." There's a wink for that before she's off, nodding for the balding man to follow after her back towards a waiting Tacuseth. |
Comments
Edyis (22:52, 25 September 2015 (PDT)) said...
I'm always intriuged by the interactions of these two, and Alida's inner workings are facinating.
Tela (09:17, 26 September 2015 (PDT)) said...
Not just tolerating but enjoying?! *looks nervously for the Red Star*
I love their shop talk!
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