Logs:The First Available Igenite
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| RL Date: 18 March, 2015 |
| Who: K'zin, Zadkiel, Rasavyth, Reisoth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr, Igen Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: K'zin goes to Igen. He brings back an Igenite. The first one he speaks to. Literally. Congrats, Zadkiel! |
| Where: Igen Weyr |
| When: Day 16, month 4, turn 37, HRW late afternoon/IGW evening, before the clutching feast |
| Mentions: Irianke/Mentions |
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| Night's descent spurs an energetic renewal of life within the Weyr. Though the heat's nowhere near as oppressive as it will be, it's still just enough to encourage people to work when the temperatures are slightly cooler. So, while some people are working the second half of their shift, others are finishing things up for the day - and Zadkiel would be among that number. He's already seen to his runnerbeast and taken care of the rest of his duties, so it's off toward the Weyr proper to take advantage of a bath. Which, in this case, still requires him to cross the bowl to both get to the resident's caverns and, then, to the bathing caverns. The still-sweaty hunter shifts the hang of his quiver and bow as he makes the trek, his eyes on the prize - when they aren't periodically flicking down to study the play of dirt and blood on his fingers and forearms. "Excuse me," might be the first thing that makes the passing hunter take note of K'zin. He's just another rider in the bowl, settling his dragon's strap buckles until he steps away to flag down the younger man. Rasavyth may be small for a bronze, but he's still a bronze, and takes up quite a bit of space even hunched with the air of a dragon who does not want to be here. "Could you point me in the direction of the living cavern?" Maybe it's K'zin's first time. There's a sidelong look to the visiting rider at that called greeting and Zak slows enough to shift course. It's only a few steps in K'zin's direction, enough to carry him within easy conversational range. The accent is decidedly Igenite - no great surprise there. He sucks his teeth thoughtfully before calling back, "It's just this way. I have to go that way anyway." He jerks his head in the direction of that still relatively distant opening into the Weyr's bowels. "Dinner's on, so it'll be busy. Tunnelsnake stew and peppers, unless the cooks were lying." One corner of his mouth twitches to a side with wry humor. "They're known to do it from time to time." "Tunnelsnake?" K'zin repeats without skepticism, only... ew. "Remind me not to come to Igen the next time my Weyr has to ration," because that's totally an okay thing to do if the food isn't gross, right? He falls into step beside the younger man. "Thanks. It's been turns since I've been here. I get turned around. What's your name?" There's a click of tongue against teeth that's equal parts amused and disdainful. "You wouldn't know it if I didn't tell you," Zadkiel replies with another of those tilted grins. He sets the pace, one that should be fairly comfortable for the rider to keep up with. "Thankfully, it's not like the guts of the Weyr have the sense to move all that much. It'll come back to you soon enough." It's the question that gives him pause, oddly enough, and he cuts a glance askance at K'zin. The grip on his quiver strap tightens briefly, then relaxes. "Zadkiel. And yours, stranger?" "Yeah?" Now K'zin is skeptical. Wouldn't he know if he was eating snake? He'd certainly like to think so, that much is clear from his expression. "Well met, Zadkiel. I'm K'zin. You're from here?" A nosy bronzerider is at least not a boring walking companion. "They're the smooth-skinned kind," is Zak's explanation, paired with a rise-fall of his unburdened shoulder. "Done right, they taste more like..." he hums thoughtfully while digging for a word "... wherry, I'd guess. Flaky wherry." It's not the first 'f' word that he was probably feeling out, but it's clearly the one he settles on. There's a melodic hum-grunt from him as the questioning continues and his attention, now, remains fixed mostly forward with the rider kept in his peripheral vision. "Bred, born, and raised - same as my parents and grandparents. My parents like to say I was born with sand in both fists." A single brow arches up at the explanation offered, but K'zin doesn't comment. "Flaky wherry. Maybe I'll try some after all." He can't be accused of not being a good sport, anyway. "Do you Stand for the clutches here? You seem the right age for it," he observes the obvious. There isn't a single hitch in his stride at that question. Zadkiel issues another of those musical hum-grunts before he replies, "The dragons started asking when I was just old enough to Stand. I've answered them every time. Haven't failed to Stand yet, but there have been a few close calls." The entrance of the living cavern grows inexorably closer, but it's still far enough away for conversation to casually continue for a short while, at least. "What business do you have here, K'zin?" "Oh, I'm just here to try the tunnelsnake stew," is delivered very off-handedly. The bronzerider is more keen to say, "You know Niahvth has clutched at 'Reaches, yeah? Seventeen eggs," K'zin goes on, "Good showing. Feast happening tonight, tons of food. Probably no tunnelsnake soup." Stew. Whatever. "You ever been to 'Reaches, Zadkiel?" This time, the grunt is simply that: a grunt. "Yank my foot all you want, rider, but don't be surprised if I kick." Zadkiel finally slows down, but only to properly look at the other man. The height disparity is fairly minor, so leveling his gaze doesn't require any awkward maneuvering on his part. "I've heard as much. I'd put marks on there not being a single pepper in anything there, too." Judgment thus levied, his jaw tightens just a touch. "Haven't set foot out of this Weyr, except to go hunting farther afield." "Maybe, you'd be surprised how far reaching those peppers can get. Probably nothing near as hot as you get here, from what I've tasted down at the Hold gathers." K'zin answers the most pressing matter first, of course. "I'm not yanking your foot, Zadkiel, I'm looking out for you. Plausible deniability. No one's said I can't ride Search in Igen Weyr, and really, you'd think with so many dragon going back to Igen in the end that they'd want a healthy portion of Igenites who might be excited to go back, you know?" Tangent. He seems to realize that because he reaches a hand with the intent to grip the taller man's bicep and give him a very serious look. "What's important is the eggs. That they find their lifemates. What is yours is there, on our sands, from your gold, right now. You wouldn't want to have to miss that opportunity just because it was politically frowned upon for 'Reaches to pluck up any old Igenite who happened by their dragon, would you?" All that hot pepper talk is left to wither on the vine. It's the touch to his arm that does it; K'zin will readily feel the tension that twists its way through him as conversation takes a distinctive turn. That serious look is met with a narrowing of eyes and a tightening of mouth that renders Zadkiel's mouth nearly invisible. He'll let him get the words out - but then the hunter's pulling away to earn some small measure of distance from the rider. "I've already said that when the dragons ask, I answer." The utterance is flat. "Just because you're from there and she's from here and people are getting their pants in a twist about it doesn't matter. The dragons know what they're doing and I trust that. I always have. Not with held breath and a dream, but-" he dismisses it with a low snort. "If you're asking, I'm answering. I'll go, but you'd better believe I'll be the first one flying back here - with a dragon or without." K'zin stares intently at the hunter for a moment when he's done speaking, considering the other man's words. "Done. Get your things. Rasavyth is waiting," a gesture back the way they came. "You can get your knot before the feast even starts." Something about that amuses K'zin, but in a way that has no light mirth to it. There's just a curt dip of his chin and Zadkiel's off - and running. Not one to waste time, this one. Not at all. Nor will he bother with his intended bath; that will just have to wait until they're at the 'Reaches. His return is quick, his possessions consisting of one large satchel, the quiver, and bow - with a proper case for the latter two, to protect from the bite of *between*. And when it's time to go, he'll go without another word unless prompted for conversation. K'zin is back at the dragon by the time Zadkiel gets there. But, he does have a bowl of stew. "Are you sure it's not just wherry?" He asks the approaching young man, before he scoops the remaining bits into his mouth with speed (by drinking from the brim and then opening wider for the chunky bits). Rasavyth's head is lowered down as the Igenite approaches and after a moment there's a snort that one might just swear was derisive in nature. Then the bowl is set aside, on the ground, and K'zin claps his hands together, "Ready to go?" To Reisoth, Rasavyth must have a sense of humor in there somewhere, still, for it's with amusement that he reaches toward the older bronze. « My K'zin is having me Search at Igen Weyr. Won't your H'vier just be thrilled. » There's a brief assessment of what remains of K'zin's bowl of stew, then: "Can't quite be sure of what they actually put in the stew, some days. I know I killed a good dozen tunnelsnakes today, though." A corner of his mouth pitches to a side. "Could be you were spared." This time. The bag and case are shifted, so, on his shoulder and there's another curt nod, like before. And if he's eyeing that bronze askance with something unreadable lurking at the corners of his mouth, so be it. Best to ignore that fleeting twist of his lip. To the rider: "Ready when you are." To Rasavyth, Reisoth's humor is somewhat lacking in this moment, though he's not outright angry. He rarely is. « He will not be-- he is decidedly not thrilled. » But they both know that was the point. « Why are you Searching in Igen? We don't trust your judgment. » Look at who Rasavyth picked for a rider, after all. Then, silence. K'zin looks disappointed, really, by the narrow escape (if indeed there was one). "Ah well, next time." This might imply that the bronze pair intend to come back for more unsuspecting Igenites. Then it's down to business, reaching to take the newly Searched's bag and case to secure them to the straps; safety first! Then there's just mounting up and going, both done with efficiency. Zadkiel should be knotted with plenty of time to even bathe before the evening festivities, given the time difference. That they don't trust him only seems to amuse Rasavyth more, « As well you should not. He picked the closest passerby of the right age who's Igen born. Obviously proximity and birth place are all that matter in these things. » The sarcasm is heavy. Rasavyth doesn't mind when Reisoth goes silent; it was about telling him, not really about what he had to say. « I'm not even sure my K'zin even really cared what I think about the boy. » There's more amusement and it lingers annoyingly, but nothing else. (To Reisoth from Rasavyth) |
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