Logs:Tethered
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| RL Date: 14 August, 2013 |
| Who: Jo, Leova |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Jo's heard that Leova's given birth, so she stops over to check on her wingmate. Tacuseth gets a lesson on babies. |
| Where: Leova's weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 9, Month 7, Turn 32 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Anvori/Mentions, Z'ian/Mentions, Aishani/Mentions, Madilla/Mentions |
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| Even a couple days after the children were safely born, or born and revived in the boy's case, Vrianth still isn't happy. She won't sit on the floor of the Bowl before the ground weyr, no. Not anymore. No, she lurks on the ledge immediately above, tail now and again flicking several times in succession as though to dismiss a buildup of clinging, electric sparks. As for Leova, she should be asleep. The children are sleeping at the same time for once. The infirmary assistants are gone for once. Anvori's even gone, possibly to freshen up. She's just staring blankly at the distant light of the summer's afternoon. Tacuseth's blue frame Betweens in, landing immediately in on the ledge as if they were summoned when they were not. The blue sends his carousing greeting to Vrianth, all filled with heated sands and not an inch of shadow as Jo dismounts nimbly and clicks her teeth at the green she can see. "Yer lady ok to see us?" she asks the green, trying to keep her voice low as she starts to head towards the inner portion of the weyr where her wingmate resides. A distinct hiss meets Tacuseth's rider, though Vrianth doesn't move an iota to stop her, and she could. No, she mantles her wings, more mental sparks chasing the bluerider down the tunnel, the woman a dark and wiry silhouette to her rider's unfocused gaze. Still, Leova rouses herself enough to say, "Jo." « Tacuseth. » She's wan, still. "Sit?" The rangy green looks away, up, her muzzle tilted towards the sun that casts shadows down the considerable length of her neck. With Jo heading in, Tacuseth settles himself and makes himself comfortable on her ledge as he sends, « Vrianth. I hear stories! » Baby stories, evidently, since Jo is already looking towards them before she looks her wingmate over. "Leova," she greets, snagging a chair and dragging it close to her with one booted foot. "Yer alright? Heard'ja dropped'un...thought I'd come by and make sure yer still breathin'." Isn't she the best? She does look dubiously at the two babes before asking, "What're their names, huh?" « Do you. » Vrianth cocks her head at him, profiled against the sun. « What do you hear? Tacuseth. » The flick of her tail has slowed, rippling into an elegant coil. Her rider has nothing to do with elegance. She has a worn-out smile for her wingmate, at least. "Breathing," she agrees, hissing her breath through her teeth. "For now. Don't recommend it. They're... can't tell from here which one's Var, which Vey. Veylin for his mother. You know." A pause. "Varian. You, Jo. How're you? Tac." Tacuseth does send Vrianth an image of a baby, wrapped up in a cradle before he sends back « Is it excitin' or somethin'? » As in, he wouldn't know. Jo snorts at the answer Leova gives her, legs crossing as she leans back in her seat. "I can' even imagine me" Her. Pregnant. In black leather. "It would be either really funny or really scary. Vey and Varian. I like the names. I'm good," she tacks on now, draping her arm over the back of her chair. "Keepin' my head down and playin' the good little rider when it suits me. Things seem to be back to normal these days with proper Weyrleaders in place, or so they say. Just in time for Nabol shenanigans. Tac's good. Ya know him. He's in one of his 'stick to the Weyr' moods right now." « No. » Vrianth tosses her head, settling to her haunches, wings down in a way that only accentuates the length of her neck. Small creatures, she shows him. Noisy creatures, sometimes, just not now. Smelly creatures. He would do well to avoid them, would Tacuseth. "Me neither," agrees Leova with a one-cornered smile that, at length, rises up the rest of the way. "You'd need extensions. For your leather. Good little rider, now... but why stick to the Weyr, you think? When there's excitement out there. You aren't stuck like me." Tacuseth gives sympathetic comfort for that to the green. « They insist on havin' them around, don' they? » he sends, his wry tone matching his rider's. « Mine is never around them. Do yers like them? » Since she had them, right? "Tryin' to suggest I need to get knocked up, Leova?" Jo notes on the leather extensions, laughter in her tone. "I think the Weyr at large would fear if it happened. And with Tac, sometimes when we're away from the Weyr too much, he gets homesick for his ledge so tryin' to get him to go somewhere would be like tryin' to move him. It'll pass, and really, I don' mind it all that much. People to see, things to do here," and she gestures towards her. "So consider yerself lucky ya were on my 'to see' list," she concludes, the smirk touching her lips. A fine haze of static crackles about Vrianth's, « Too often. He wants them. » She flashes an image of the man, her rider's weyrmate, traditionally handsome to human sight but now pictured as sleeping with his mouth open and beginning to drool, a baby-lump upon his chest. « Be careful. When they attack, the humans must speak in high voices. » And coo. "Not hardly," says her rider with a smirk that's at least an echo of her old self. "Wouldn't inflict that on you. Though better when you're younger if you're going to." She glances toward the sunlight. Towards where their dragons should be. "Don't blame him nohow," she has to say. "I miss my ledge. Vrianth most. They want me here for the rest of the seven, and even then, with the little ones... well. So. Yeah. I'll count me lucky. Who's next? Madilla? Going to reminisce?" Ahhh. Tacuseth seems to understand this. « Are they good for anythin'? » he sends now, the blue dragon turning his wedge-shaped head back towards the inner part of the weyr as if he could make out where the babies are. « They really attack, too? They're dangerous? » Vrianth's painting a bad mental picture of babies already for the blue. Jo snorts on getting pregnant, shrugging as she says, "Man I'm seein', I doubt he wants any more, so. Yer missed in the wing, ya know. I'm sure a whole batch'a them will be comin' up to check on ya, too. Another seven, they say?" She whistles, clearly feeling sorry for her. For the last though, "What, ya want me to visit Madilla, or is she comin' here to check on ya next? At least yer ain' quarantined." Oh yeah. The memories of that. « No. » Not that, given the way Vrianth tracks that look of his, she seems inclined to let him barge in should he choose to. However, « When they are older, they are not always bad, » and there's a hint of another mind, one she watches over, with needs and wants and now finally words. « These make her sad. Happy, also... but sad. We cannot fly wherever and whenever we wish, we must sit and wait and tend them. » How is that not dangerous? She has been waiting and waiting and waiting. "Good on him, then," Leova can say of Jo's man. "And. Thanks. Miss being there, believe it. Tell them we'll be back as soon as we can, hm?" « Sooner. » "Any word of the Lady, or High Reaches Hold? Not another seven, seven minus the couple we've been here. At least now I can be glad it's not winter, make it slick and all, carrying them. Madilla... she could use you looking in I reckon, but I was just wondering who's next on your list. You could look in on her, though, see where she's at. Remind her of those, ah. Good old days." Tacuseth is intrigued, that much can be seen from his reaction. « They are like Mime, » and he sends the image of their firelizard, now grown. He can connect and understand through that! As for Jo, there's a slight hitch in her shoulder for an answer on the Reaches Hold before she says, "I'm sure there's somethin', but I've been out of the Weyr all day. Shani seems to be keepin' tabs on it all, so I thought maybe to stop by and hear it from her if there's been any more developments. And, good. Ya'll be on yer feet and out of here soon enough, darlin'. I'll buy ya a drink as soon as the Snowasis opens up again." There's a quirk of her lips on the Weyrhealer as she inclines her head to that, stating, "Could she? Haven' in a while. Might do so. Next on my list are the usual suspects. M'ron's holdin' a card game in his weyr tonight. Maybe catch Shani'n Z'ian. Mostly makin' sure yer all in one piece, like in the good ol' days." There's a flash of a smile for that. Energy flows through that vision, so low on the spectrum that it cannot be seen but only felt. It circles. Cycles. « Perhaps. » Less useful. More... « Tacuseth. One begins to wake. » They should go. The green pivots, the better to slide past him if he doesn't leap up and out first. Waking one, she lets it be known, only wakes the other. Not that she warns her rider. "Mm. Good to know." Amber eyes consider the other woman, far more focused than they had been when Jo had first arrived. Not that they linger on Jo's shoulder. "Appreciate any updates. Hate waiting. Will appreciate that drink, too." Leova's mouth tilts up, more at one side than the other. Her smoky voice light, "Catch the pair of them together? Well. Hope you win a good share, make it worth it sticking around." True to Vrianth's word, one of the tiny lumps fidgets, its voice as yet a squeaky creak. Tacuseth must indeed send the warning to Jo, for the woman looks abruptly towards the babes as she says, "Drink's a done deal, darlin'. I never go back on a promise." She does gives Leova a look as she gets to her feet on the pair comment before she snorts and says, "If I hear anythin', I'll let ya know. Tac tells me one of them's-" and right on cue, she heard that squeaky creak with a lopsided grin going towards the greenrder. "Well. Guess I better let ya get back to it," she notes, stepping away from the chair to reach out and try to briefly grip her shoulder with a nod. "Me'n Tac, we'll head out. Ya know ya can hit us up for anythin', right? Vrianth knows how to reach him." There's a glint in those amber eyes. "Abandoning me. I see now. With the bribe of a drink, no less." But Leova moves to take up the fidgety creature she'd borne, to soothe it or to protect Jo, one or the other. Doesn't mean she doesn't give Jo a quick, tired shadow of a grin for that touch of her shoulder. "Reckon so. Thanks. Good flying." One of the women, or Anvori, will come soon enough. Vrianth abandons her too, not waiting for Tacuseth to deliver his rider to the game before threading the Spindles out into the last of the sun. It's not as though she'll be hard to find. Not today. |
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