Logs:Thundersnow
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| RL Date: 8 March, 2014 |
| Who: H'kon, Telavi |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| Where: Bowl and Weyrling Barracks, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 13, Month 3, Turn 34 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Rumbles and flashes of lightning intersperse between the periodic fall of snow throughout the day. There is humidity in the otherwise cold air. |
| Mentions: G'laer/Mentions, K'zin/Mentions, M'yel/Mentions, Quinlys/Mentions, R'hin/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Seriously, the +weather said thundersnow. |
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| Eastern Bowl, High Reaches Weyr Telavi runs in the rain, mornings. She's been known to snowshoe when it's snowy, just because. But now? The still-assistant-weyrlingmaster-- despite the absence of actual weyrlings-- stares out of the barracks with wearied disbelief. Because that? That is thundersnow. It's not disbelief that the silhouette of one brown Arekoth conveys as he spirals down from his ledge, broad sweeps becoming steadily tighter and more precise. He's first, if one cares to see him amidst the flashes and snowfall. H'kon is next, coming from the infirmary it would seem, jacket collar up, squinting up into the air as he angles to meet his brown. It's not just a matter of caring, with the sheer distance across this half of the Bowl... though it is true that Telavi's not caring to look up anymore right now, as though the precipitation could somehow get on her face despite the overhang-- or perhaps from the time-honored tradition of 'if I don't look, it doesn't exist.' It's Solith who might bridge the gap from the ledge upon which she watches, a sparkle of incongruously summery light for her sire amidst all the clash and clamor: she likes the weather. She should come fly in it, invites that crackle of green, drowned out (nearly) by a roll of thunder. Where he was just nearing H'kon, just ready to land, Arekoth tips his wings. It's only a minor bit of lift, but it's enough to have him pumping for more altitude, his decision made. « Which one's louder? The thunder or the green? » H'kon sets his teeth together, and ducks a bit into his collar. He'll stay a moment or two, watching his dragon grow smaller and smaller. And when it seems there's no imminent return, H'kon seeks shelter. Naturally she does; surely she could have flown out into it before, perhaps she even did, but Solith's a social creature and with this particular playmate, that's better. She's not built strongly enough to withstand all the gusts as they ascend, but she's flexible enough-- in body and in mindset-- to let herself be buffeted about and adjust. To enjoy it, even, playing about Arekoth's path rather than striving to match it. As for her rider, Telavi stifles a yawn with the back of her wrist, and sighs. Perhaps she ought to go back in, see if there's more klah. Enough to swim in, preferably. The barracks make for good shelter, it seems; they were near where Arekoth had been aiming for, before pulling an Arekoth. It's there H'kon enters, scanning the area just in time to catch Telavi's yawn - more, her entire presence. It earns from him an, "Ah." He doesn't go to the opposite side of the entrance, not yet - first, he has to try brush some of the wet and clingy snow from around his neck. Arekoth, he starts to echo Solith's ducks and dodges (and 'getting pushed by wind's), then starts to anticipate. There's no attempt to come into contact with the younger dragon; just to weave, and show off a little. Which in turn earns a glance over to him, and a half-amused, "See you're enjoying the sunshine too," from Telavi. Solith is probably none too helpful for the man, in that she encourages Arekoth's showing off, even adding flashes of light when the brown changes course particularly sharply as though he were striking lightning off his wingtips. Maybe, comes her wordless suggestion, he could handle the thunder? Maybe, is not quite a suggestion, but certainly present in the brown's flight style, and the ego that pulses through the link, he is the thunder. He can't quite mimic the rumbles, but he can certainly add his own flashes and sparks as he goes, colour to go with lightning bolts, colour to reach toward his playmate. H'kon keeps his look to Telavi sidelong at best. "It made little sense to wait and soak my jacket if not flying. That is all." That-- ego and all-- pretty well delights Solith, who's apt to fly towards the color instead of away; rather than add even more decoration to the already-satisfactory mix herself, she shifts as the winds allow into a sort of pattern. Or, rather, pattern-pattern-pattern-chaos and then maybe pattern again. "Mmm," says her rider. "I'm for klah." Over her shoulder as she departs, "There's a second mug." It may even be clean. There is nothing about this Arekoth doesn't like. He'll be up there a while, which means H'kon, poor H'kon, will either need to find some only subtly rude way to excuse himself, or... The brownrider frowns, faintly, though the shake of his head and slight lift of his hand to deny the offer isn't overly standoffish. Entirely. "I've had already." Lightning flashes. "Thank you." Telavi waits until she's returned to reply, not that shouting to-- or sometimes at-- weyrlings had ever been a problem; "You're welcome," she says altogether too congenially, leaning against a nearby upright as she sips. The aroma rises: good klah, for those who like that sort of thing. Quinlys must have an in with someone. Quinlys' assistant certainly seems to enjoy it, by the way she smiles as she sips, or possibly that's just from Solith in the skies. Which doesn't keep her from casting a speculative look the wingsecond's way. H'kon has turned back the moment Telavi has answered him. His eyes are not so much on the part of sky where the dragons are dancing; they're on the play of snow before him, hypnotic if one keeps his eyes unfocused too long. This might be to blame for his not turning for some time, even when he feels her gaze. But then, when he does look back, there's some hint of resignation. There. In that line at the corner of his left eye. One eyebrow lifts, faintly. Her mirroring brow arches, just like that, as her smile ever so gradually grows; except, it's not quite a mirror, for it rises higher and with what, in someone less tired, might be verve. Telavi's mouth remains closed; she hasn't bared her teeth. For every degree that smile grows, the furrow in H'kon's forehead deepens. Until, finally, he takes a little breath, and turns his attention, in full, back out to the snowfall. Above, Arekoth wheels about, and dives. Still, the man makes no move to go back out. Or change much at all, now that he's reset his position. Of course she'd wait until he'd turned away to inquire, "How are you liking our weyrlings?" Solith's changed her pattern yet again, not diving but flying up, up, up. Too far, and she'll break out above the clouds, though; can't have that. "They are no longer weyrlings," H'kon answers her, immediately once the question has been asked. "M'yel seems able. His focus, at times, could use... work. And we are always pleased for one with some life experience behind him." A twitch, and he adds, "G'laer," with a hint of uncertainty, though he doesn't quite glance over to Telavi. Did she know all the placements? Arekoth is in agreement; can't have that. Could be that's why he's suddenly flying harder, faster, as if he could beat Solith to the ceiling. There's a certain ambiguousness to Telavi's, "Mmm." Perhaps they're still her and Quinlys', if not H'kon's. "G'laer. Yes." She knows. "Some might say he has life experience for any number of others... What do you have them doing, anything outside the usual?" She tips her head upward, as though to spot those wingriders right now, though Solith also ascends that much more sharply. The light-boned green's having a harder time with the turbulent winds than the brown, though, now that she moves with one specific purpose; he'll be able to beat her out where he mightn't in calmer weather... if he doesn't startle from the lightning that's about to strike. Arekoth is not one to start at flashes of light; he is flashes of light, at his core. He answers them and pierces the inevitable roll of thunder with a cry of his own, the race either forgotten, or suddenly not just a race against Solith. Whatever it is Telavi is ambiguous about, H'kon clearly does not agree. But the scowl is all he'll say on the matter. "For now, things have been kept simple. We want the new members integrated properly. Alpine functions as a whole. The new limbs... must learn finer motions so that the strength they add can be directed." The little 'hm,' that follows is faintly pleased in all that. "What a useful analogy," Telavi murmurs; even if it could be said to be a healer's analogy, her mouth doesn't do more than hint at a smile. This is, after all, serious. Solith by contrast is unvocal but providing rippled, visceral echoes of dragon and thunder-- get it! "What do you have them do, to learn these... motions?" H'kon has tilted his head up at Arekoth's call, all hints of scowl and frown gone in that instant. His eyes are closed a moment later, held a beat, and then he's opened them again, attention turned back to to weyrlingmaster. Oh, there's the bit of a frown. "They must be as capable as the rest, first, so any remaining tasks that they cannot do up to our standards... that, we have been training them on." There are specifics. There must be. But the wingsecond just leaves it at that. "And then, they must both come to know and work with our wing, and the same the other way. We'll be pursuing... teamwork drills, I suppose. Cooperative competitions, the sort." Owlish stare. It's that transition that captures Telavi's now-fascinated attention, though in her next beat, she's smoothed her expression again. "Trust falls," she supplies in likewise-murmured but even more dulcet tones. More businesslike is, "What is there," in his wisdom! "that new riders might better learn in their weyrling training, do you think? If anything. Skills of general use, of course, not tailored expressly for Alpine." Since not everyone, her voice might imply, will have the honor of serving with his wing. H'kon's features go flat, owl giving way to plank of wood. "Difficult to accomplish with dragons," he dismisses dryly. He turns his head away, so if there's any twitch at the edges of his mouth, they're well hidden. "I suspect it would depend on the rider. Weyrling staff are limited. Wingleaders and wingseconds, also." Looking back her way: "I've no specific complaint with the products of your lessons, Telavi." "Mmm. Yes." Serene greeny-blue eyes consider him. "I'll trust that if you have any general complaints with the products of our lessons," Telavi says, delicate enough with the plural possessive to be inconspicuous for all that his words might reassure in their own way too, "you'll voice those also." In the meantime, "What of Savannah, what do you make of them?" "I would see little point in keeping them to myself, if I thought they might be resolved," H'kon... agrees, more than promises. Savannah earns a raising of both eyebrows initially, though they're pulled down into a frown soon enough. There is, of course, a pause taken, an answer formed, stillness in the caverns while dragons go about their feats in the air. "R'hin is very... informal. A fair number of his riders, it seems to me, choose to follow his example." Telavi inclines her head; then she says, "Do you find them competent?" H'kon hesitates in that - a true hesitation, this time, rather than a careful moment's planning. "I believe they are quite able." But. Above, Arekoth has started a dizzying descent, swirling, a mimic of snow caught in a draught, turning, tumbling, crackling. "They lack discipline," his rider at last offers. "Thank you," Telavi says, regarding him for another moment. She's finished her klah long ago; she looks up, now. Perhaps even she sees what her dragon sees, Arekoth tumbling to and fro, even as Solith folds her wings and plummets as a hailstone might. If she does, it doesn't seem to disturb her, not even in the wake of another fall; but then, that one she hadn't seen. Except, "Good day," she wishes just as genuinely, not the excuse-me to a wingsecond here in her own demesne, and moves to slip away. First, into the deeper cavern. Not long thereafter, from High Reaches altogether. |
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