Logs:The Possibilities
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| RL Date: 29 May, 2012 |
| Who: Brieli, K'del, Azaylia |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Gossip in the Galleries between Candidates and the Weyrleader. Also, words of encouragement and someone jumps to conclusions. |
| Where: Hatching Galleries, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 27, Month 11, Turn 28 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Braeden/Mentions, Iolene/Mentions, Kushvetath/Mentions |
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| Hatching Galleries, High Reaches Weyr Ringing the southwestern side of the hatching sands are ample tiers of carved stone benches, the lowest of which is some six feet off the ground -- just high enough to separate wayward hatchlings from unwary viewers, and vice versa. A metal railing on the outside helps prevent anyone from falling off; it also extends up the stairs that lead the way higher into the galleries. While most of the area is open seating, ropes section off some of the closer tiers when dignitaries are expected; those areas even feature cushions in the Weyr's blue and black. The higher one climbs, the more apparent the immense scale of the entire cavern becomes. The dragon-sized entrance on the ground is dwarfed by the expansive golden sands that glitter in the light. Everything on them is easily visible from the galleries, whether that's a clutch of eggs and a broody queen, or simply its emptiness and the handful of darker tunnels that lead to more private areas than the bowl. Wherever one sits or looks, however, one thing is constant: the overwhelming, suffocating heat. Cadejoth and his rider have been absent enough, these past days, that it's been commented on about the weyr: with most of the tithes in, or at least firmly on their way, it's a wonder where they really need to go so much. Today, however, they're sticking close to home, with Cadejoth nestled up next to Ysavaeth on the sands, and his rider hanging out in the galleries with a pile of reports and a half-finished mug of klah. "I wouldn't let you touch all of them, either, Cadejoth," he's saying, fondly, without glancing up from his reading. "Trust Ysavaeth on this one." Avoiding the living caverns isn't a difficult task, but finding somewhere just as warm without venturing back out? Convenience is key, food still steaming as Azaylia makes her way into the galleries. There's a moment longer that the stiff chill has a hold of her before the young woman is shuddering free, muscles loose and skin warmed into goosebumps. Cadejoth's stirring has her blinking over a tray of food, "Oh!" But he'll be given a smile (Ysavaeth, a smaller one) before she's climbing up the tiers with long legs. K'del has been spotted, and still the candidate chooses to sit a few feet away, one step below- giving him and his work a wide, polite berth. In no particular hurry and with no particular purpose to her stride, Brieli looks like a young woman with a rest day - she's actually coming down from the highest, warmest, darkest tiers of seats with slightly mussed curls and sleepy dark eyes... And if that weren't enough hint of her recent occupation, she's caught in a wide yawn just as Azaylia starts her climb up. With an experimental sniff towards the other candidate's tray - the herder always has extra, right? - she starts to trail after the food and Azaylia both, perhaps less polite about looking over K'del's work on the way. The trouble with eggs is that they just don't do anything, and Cadejoth's tailtip is shuddering as he desperately tries to keep it from moving and inevitably causing a ruckus. People in the galleries? Much more interesting! And so he snakes his head up from where it has been resting upon his forelimbs, watching, and huffing out a low greeting. K'del's work appears to be mostly sweeps reports, and largely uninteresting, even for him: it's no wonder, then, that his head lifts at the sound of footsteps, catching and following Azaylia and Brieli until, as the first candidate sits, he offers a cheerful, "Afternoon." Azaylia's own greeting is muffled by a meatroll at first, chewing quickly to clear the way, "Aft'noon Werrlemer." Mostly clear. Brieli is not wrong about the once-herder's appetite, three servings all evenly placed on the tray next to her. That is, until she plucks up one plate to hover near her mouth so she can get a forkful of tubers into her mouth. As appropriate as they'd be at the moment, there are no nummy noises, and the bites have been shrunk to managable sizes for company's sake. "Brieli." She manages not to mangle the other candidate's name, a flicker of a smile and another meatroll to hide it behind. Usually, Brieli's not too bothered by being studied or examined to the point of near-obliviousness, but Cadejoth is a different matter entirely. Fortunately, she doesn't look like she thinks the bronze is going to eat her, but that head gets a wary side-eye and a little wave. Hello big dragon-thing. As for his rider, "Good afternoon, Weyrleader. How are things? Is he --" She nods to Cadejoth, "Feeling a bit stir crazy?" If the work is boring K'del, the food is what she'll peer over to, flashing Azaylia a smile. "Hi Azaylia. Anything decent for lunch?" Cadejoth's rumble, on receipt of Brieli's wave, is a satisfied one, one that twists K'del's expression into a wryly amused smile. "He is. Can't sit still at the best of times, but when he's afraid to move for fear of hurting the eggs? Worse and worse and worse. Things're fine, Brieli, thanks for asking. How are you both?" If he seems amused by Azaylia's full-mouth mufflings, he eases it in to a lazy smile, even as he's shifting around in his seat so as to be able to look at the pair of them from a better angle. The bronze's rumble has Azaylia freezing, though not in the way one would expect. She drops the fork for a moment, arm launching into the air and waving madly at Cadejoth, full cheeks upturned in a smile. Brieli's question has brows climbing upwards and she tilts her head with a somewhat confused laugh, "The food's always good." As if she's even tasting it at this point. Once the initial hunger pangs fade away, she slows to a more managable pace, "Fine. Thank you." A glance fr K'del, before she also manages a genuine, "Glad your arm is better." Peering over at the sands as she sits, Brieli notes, "Seems like there's a lot of room down there - or it seems like it to me. At least there's not over thirty or more like there would be in a pass; he'd be practically trapped." The idea of a being as large as Cadejoth being 'trapped' seems a bit amusing to her; she's grinning a touch as she replies, "Amazing today - it's a rest day, and I've been resting. I've had a nap. I don't remember the last time I did that." To Azaylia, with her own laugh, "Fair point. I haven't had much to complain about. If you find yourself with a roll left over..." It's possible, depending on how hungry the other candidate is. Azaylia's enthusiasm makes Cadejoth's tail start wiggling again - and then his wings. "Oh, there's plenty of room. Ysavaeth's protective, though, and Cadejoth's... not the carefulest of dragons." It's said carefully, but fondly; his rider is being realistic here. "Can't imagine thirty eggs. Forty. Anywhere near that many. He and Iovniath and twenty once, and that was huge." Azaylia's mention of his arm has him looking pleased, fingers wiggling in a display of all those things he can do again now. "Rest days are amazing, aren't they? And naps. Get them in while you can." Cadejoth is contagious, because for a moment Azaylia is wriggling in her seat with delight. "So glad he's not a monster." Said quietly, and with great relief. Unlike some bronze dragons. Eyes turn to Brieli, a hint of something selfish in her gaze for as long as it takes her to lift a plate and offer an untouched roll, gone in an instant. "S-sure. Not like you're going to stick your finger in my gravy." The plate also sweeps towards K'del while she's at it, though it'll hover there, forgotten as her eyes widen. "...Rest days?" What're those? Watching the bronze with the wiggling tail and wings in contrast to the still and sleeping gold, Brieli seems amused still. "You don't say," she tells K'del wryly, but not overly so - she's not bothered by it, but she's not Ysavaeth either. With a wrinkle of her nose, "I can't imagine the candidates' quarters with twenty or more. They barely shut up as is." For Azaylia, there's something of a knowing look for the lack of quiet - then she has to lift her brows as the plate is offered - are you sure? She'll take the roll, but add, "I could have waited. And I'm with you." Her last is almost sotto voce, for the other candidate only, before, dismayed, "Oh - Azaylia, no. They haven't given you one yet? If you Impress..." Well, what K'del said. K'del's got a funny glance for Azaylia at her mention of 'monster', but it's not a question he asks - not when there's so much else he can remark on. Stretching, his legs drawn out to rest on the tier in front of his, he says, "'least you don't have snoring dragons in there, as yet. The candidate barracks were okay, in comparison to that. Azaylia, have you really not taken a rest day? You've definitely got to get that remedied. Everyone needs days off." His head shakes in reply to the offer of the plate, hands flexing within his lap in lieu of taking the food. "Early weyrlinghood is like early parenthood, only they can tell you what they want." It doesn't take Azaylia long to pull her plate back, perhaps a little too quickly once K'del declines. "The barracks are pretty noisy." A minimal effort offered before she's clearing her first plate with a satisfied sigh. The second is placed atop it, "There was a day," Or two, "When I didn't have a chore sheet. But I thought it was a mistake." A glance towards Brieli and then K'del, now uncertain. "So I just helped out who needed it. ...Did I break a rule?" Though she falls silent at the mention of weyrlinghood, the curiosity on her face as clear as day. If Azaylia ever feels bad about her eating, she probably shouldn't after Brieli shoves about half the roll in her mouth, trying not to look like a squirrel with cheeks full before the winter. After managing to chew and swallow the 'bite' in record time, she tells K'del, "Snoring would be better than some of it. Some of the girls... when they get going, they get very... high-pitched." That's the most diplomatic way of putting it. "And I'm not sure if it's good or bad that they can tell you what you want. I imagine mostly good." With a blink for Azaylia, she offers reassuringly, "No rules broken, and I'm sure that your help was appreciated. I do that too sometimes, I was just so tired today... I hid out where I knew it'd be warm and quiet. You should do that. I can even tell people you're on an errand if you want." A pause, then; "When you're off, of course." K'del twitches, just slightly, at Brieli's explanation of 'high pitched', though he admits, then, "Remember overhearing some of them at Lord Braeden's celebration. The squealing. Azaylia's uncertainty draws a different expression, something more fond, somehow, if ever so faintly amused. Following on from Brieli's explanation, he agrees, "There's nothing wrong with it, but you're allowed to take the time off - we all need a break, sometimes. You're right, Brieli: sometimes it's better that they can tell you what they want. Sometimes, when you can't actually give them what they want? Not so much." His shoulders tense and then relax again, turning so that he can consider the eggs again. "Not long now. Could be you'll know for yourself, soon." From somewhere behind the trio, not that he's eavesdropping, no not really. Never. It's a male voice at any rate, probably. So it must be a he. Maybe. "High pitched is better than some other sounds some people make." But luckily, there's quite a few people somewhere behind them. "Squealing after the celebration, too." Azaylia's mutter is distracted, an echo of annoyance carried in her tone. She brightens for their sake, "Can't really blame them... Lord Braeden is, uhm." Words left unsaid can easily be mistaken for bashful admiration. He's something alright. Shy nature even seeps into her eating habits, nibbling rather than stuffing her face. "Maybe I will. Take a break, I mean." Brieli's offer has her smiling at the other candidate, though her eyes understandably drift towards the sands, same as their conversation. "I'll be rooting for you, Brieli." Breathless words are honest, perhaps with a touch of fright- as if she's imagining them hatching right now. Shiver. "Mm, yes. I think that's what some of the squealing was about." Brieli purses her lips, glancing Azaylia's way, about to add something before that other voice cuts in - though there's little that bothers the tall candidate, that unexpected weigh-in does bring a flush to her cheeks. With a cough, she gratefully jumps on K'del's response, nodding. "That's what I wonder. If they want to fly and you can't let them? It's bound to be frustrating. And I've heard that - we'll know or we'll be back to the usual." Not too depressed by the idea, she shrugs, munching on the other half of roll. There's a genuine, wide smile for the other girl's last, and sincerely, "I'll be rooting for you too. And actually, I'd best be going. The roll has awakened the beast." Patting her stomach - which might just be rumbling - she stands, giving them all a wave of farewell, Cadejoth included, before starting back out into the bowl. "Stay warm." "Lord Braeden is... handsome, wealthy, powerful, and unmarried." K'del's tone is wry. "No wonder they squeal after him." He watches Azaylia thoughtfully for a moment after that, but Brieli's departure distracts him - he lifts a hand after her - and by the time he's turning back towards the remaining candidate, he seems momentarily to have lost his train of thought. "How're you feeling, anyway? Azaylia. Nervous? Know we haven't completely sorted things out to make sure you can stay afterwards, if you don't Impress... I'm working on it, though, I promise." Azaylia's eyes dart up the tiers, surprised rather than bothered by the stranger's words. The meaning of his words is lost on the candidate, easily distracted by Brieli's quick departure. "Oh! W-well I could-" Before she can truly sacrifice her last plate, the other girl is gone. Lord Braeden is commented on only after she's demolished her second helping, "He's nice." Annoyance for the others may seem hypocritical, or perhaps make a bit more sense as she avoids K'del's gaze. Look, eggs! Cheeks bulge with a forkful of mashed tubers, giving her some time to chew over an answer. "Anxious, I guess. I just want it to be over." Guilt halts her appetite. "Don't-" The candidate does look at him now, smile weak, "I don't think there's anything you can really do." K'del is less, shall we say, enthusiastic about Braeden: "He's a pain in my ass." And then, a moment later, "I'm sorry. Shouldn't have said that. Sure he is a perfectly nice person." He's not paying attention to the comments of anyone else in the galleries, nor does he seem to have registered Azaylia's glance back. "No? Maybe. Wish there were. It's - I pretended I wasn't anxious, but I was. It's totally normal, really. Hatchings can be pretty scary, when you're down there. The unknown, the unknowable." The thoughtfulness in his tone is inclined towards the philosophical. "Impression is worth it, though." Azaylia is staring at K'del perhaps a bit too long, a glance given towards his poor posterior. "Uhmmm..." No, best to let it go. Though, "A cushion might help?" Literal candidate leaves it alone now. Her own situation is a bit more hopeless, and she gives a slow shake of her head. No, there isn't much K'del can do in this case. "I watched when Emme n' Iolene Impressed." She makes no claims of being an expert. "I can see it being kind of scary... I think I'll just stay out of the way." This comes as a quiet mumble, "I don't think any dragon would want to Impress," A liar. "Me." K'del might, normally, be flattered; right now he's just confused, registering how literal Azaylia is being only after he's given her a funny look for several seconds. "... Oh. Right." Haha. Only his laugh is a little awkward, even if the smile that concludes it is genuine enough. "Staying out of the way is generally a good idea," he says, then, moving on to a topic that's less likely to cause issues. "Because they're not always that coordinated. It's been a while since we last had an injury, but they do happen. But-- how can you know, Azaylia? I can't say if you will Impress or not, but there's no reason why you couldn't." Azaylia's taking a few mismatched puzzle pieces and shoving them together, head tilting as she looks at the Weyrleader through new eyes. "Hm." Thoughtful. Plates are placed on the tray, newly emptied hands smoothing the skirt of her dress. They still at K'del's question. "I... just a feeling, I guess?" She mumbles down at her boots, slow inhale helping to straighten her up and look up at the man. "It just feels... like I'm not doing any of this the right way." A self deprecating smile, but there's some humor in it. "And what silly little hatchling is going to pick a scaredy-feline like me?" Her face smooths suddenly, shaking her head rapidly, "Oh! Not... I'm sorry. I am trying to Impress." Is she? The words seem to surprise even herself. K'del clearly has no idea what is going through Azaylia's head, but there are enough physical clues that he's aware that there's something, and he gives her a bland smile in return. More enthusiastic, and encouraging, is his reply to what she says: "There isn't a right way, promise. Everyone comes at things from somewhere different-- it's just all down to the dragons, who is right for them." He does seem pleased, and not really surprised, at what she says last. "Good. I'm glad. You'd be surprised, really. What a dragon is looking for. Who they want. 's like... not all male greenriders prefer men to women, even though that's what you might think. And then there're confident people who don't Impress at all. You'll be fine." "I trust you, K'del." Azaylia's quiet voice seems even younger than it is, turns abandoned in her vulnerable moment. The two grown clutchparents are glanced at once again, Ysavaeth is studied a moment longer than the bronze. "I guess you're right. I bet Io sure was surprised..." A smile blossoms at that, perhaps no longer thinking her odds as so dismal. "Did you think you were gonna get Cadejoth?" Mentioning him has a hand lifting, fingers wiggling down at the sands for the well behaved beastie. K'del, perhaps not completely surprised, but so obviously pleased, is silent for a long time after Azaylia speaks, acknowledging her words with only a forward tilt of his head. Good. Out on the sands, Cadejoth has settled again, watching the eggs with an intensity that suggests perhaps he's trying to commune with them. "Oh yes," says K'del, finally, with a wry laugh. "Told them all I'd be Impressing bronze, that he was right there waiting for me. The ego of youth, right? What I didn't expect was for him to be the way he is. Figured we'd sail through life; instead, we struggled a bit, early on. He's nothing like what I expected, back then." Perhaps not the answer she's expecting, the young woman can still giggle at how confident he had been. "You weren't wrong..." She admits. Azaylia tears her eyes away from the concentrating bronze, settling on his rider instead. "The way he...is?" Now they're reaching scary-dragon territory, the unknown unknowns. At least for a candidate, that is. She wriggles for comfort, numb rumpflesh tingling as knees press together, elbows propped atop them. "What's he like?" Muffled from her chin resting in both palms, K'del has her undivided attention. "Other than nice. Is he special? Or are all bronzes... supposed to be like him?" Because she's certainly seen the other end of the spectrum. "No," agrees K'del. "I wasn't wrong. And yet..." He, too, shifts his position, angling himself so that he can give Azaylia his full attention. "All dragons're different. There's no supposed to be, really. Sure, there's the stereotype: regal bronze, all that. Cadejoth's not like that at all. He's-- he was like a puppy, when he was little. In to everything. Couldn't sit still. Guess he's not really much better, now. All that enthusiastic energy. Hated being left alone, too." For as big as that inhale is while the Weyrleader speaks, Azaylia's uttering is as gentle as ever. "Awwwww..." As if she needed even more reason to like Cadejoth. "He always did kind of remind me of uhm..." Hesitant at possibly insulting either rider or dragon, "A big ol' dog we used to have back home." Her eyes close, almost forced by how widely she's smiling at the memories mingling what she now knows. "I almost forget I'm scared of them, sometimes." A grimace, "Almost." K'del is definitely not insulted by that comparison: he grins, amused. "Sounds about right. He's-- just like that. Have you seen him playing with the kids in the lake, in summer? Lets them climb all over him. Hard to imagine Ysavaeth coming out of that." Nice reminder of the incest, there; he doesn't even seem to notice. "There's no need to be afraid of them, Azaylia. Know fears don't really work like that, but-- they won't hurt you. None of them. Whatever they might imply, otherwise." Reluctantly, he glances back down at Cadejoth, his nose wrinkles. "B'sil's looking for me. Guess I ought to go find him." "No, I haven't." Azaylia's eyes widen at the mental image, "Do you think he'd let me..?" Because this certainly isn't turning into an obsession or anything. Casually mentioned incest has the candidate sitting up straighter, nervous laughter successfully muffled behind a bite to her lower lip. "I'd like to believe you." Trust is one thing, watching the devil himself feed is another. "Oh- I've been sort of hogging you, haven't I?" Azaylia's quick to pluck up her tray, standing on mostly steady legs. "Have a good day, K'del. ..uhm, thank you." Fear of monopolyzing his time further has her turning and scampering out. |
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