Logs:To Weather The Storm
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| RL Date: 3 June, 2012 |
| Who: Quinlys, Azaylia |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: The new gold pair learn more about each other, with Quinlys and Olveraeth there to save the day! |
| Where: Weyrling Training Cavern, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 14, Month 12, Turn 28 (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: Iolene/Mentions |
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| Weyrling Training Cavern, High Reaches Weyr All the furniture here has been pushed to one side of the room to allow a large pathway opposite: room enough to let weyrling dragons pass from the bowl's archway to the cavernous barracks at the back. None of the furniture matches, either: it varies from big cushioned, claw-footed chairs to those of plain wood, while the most seating is at the two stone tables ringed by low and equally hard stone benches. Without the tapestries that decorate many of the Weyr's other interior spaces, the room always echoes with noise, no matter how few are there. What it does have, however, are several colorful murals: on one wall, a detailed diagram of a dragon's anatomy; opposite, next to a creaky wooden door, a number of painted and labeled wing formations. Near the entrance is a large-scale version of the Weyr's badge, while the back wall, by the barracks, features a detailed map of the continent. The latter area's also home to one big, beat-up couch, black or maybe blue -- the thing's so old and filthy it's hard to tell, though it's certainly comfortable. It's absolutely miserable, outside: not only is it snowing, but there's thunder and lightning, too, enough to make plenty of the so-young dragons absolutely terrified. Quinlys, the most junior of the assistants and one of the most uncertain, is positioned just by the entrance to the barracks, her arms crossed in front of her, and her gaze fixed on some unknowable spot lost in the afternoon storm. In contrast, Olveraeth is positioned rather closer to the barracks themselves, waiting in eager excitement for anyone else who might come out and need his assistance. Dragonet feet shouldn't echo with such power, and yet Hraedhyth does so deliberately, heavy footfalls announcing her presence as she clears the barracks. Before anyone can panic, Azaylia rushes out after her dragon, pausing only to pull her boot completely on. "Weyrlingmaster." Quinlys gets a breathless greeting before the weyrling continues after the young queen. She doesn't have to go too far. With a rumble of thunder and flash of lightning, Hraedhyth is frozen in place, nearly skidding to a stop, whirling eyes staring out at the bowl. Azaylia stiffens as well, holding her breath. « Isn't it pretty? » Olveraeth's there in an instant, before his less-confident rider has time to react. He's got an odd sounding voice, almost nasal; there's no discounting his enthusiasm, though, and a certain perfect awe at that thunder-lightning-snow combination outside. « Boom! Just like that. » Quinlys attempts a more confident smile, straightening her posture as the young pair approach. "Is she frightened? Reassure her - it can't hurt her. It won't." BOOM goes the thunder. Azaylia senses that Hraedhyth isn't frightened, no! Fear is... is for the weak. Though there is an ominous silence that befalls the young queen's mind, stifled flames producing black, thick smoke that momentarily fills her to the brim. The silence continues for far too long, Olveraeth's reassurance echoing within her empty plains until the thunder issues it's challenge once again. Then the inferno roars to life, answering the call. Hraedhyth doesn't answer the blue, her eyes whirling steadily as she watches the trifecta of snow, light and sound. Azaylia swallows, visibly tense as she reaches out with a trembling hand, resting between those blunt 'knobs as she looks between her lifemate. "...I don't know." She whispers, and that is enough to have the weyrling sounding scared, a glance spared for Quinlys. "She's just so-" The thunder cuts her off, and bony clubs that had begun to tremble spread open suddenly as Hraedhyth answers the BOOM with a guttural bellow. Azaylia weakly mimics the bugle, covering her ears and crying out, drowned out by the echo that bounces off the walls of the cavern. The gold suddenly stops, snorting and turning her whirling eyes onto the others, not quiet in her triumph, « I am louder. ». Hraedhyth senses that Azaylia is scared. « What. » Comes the demand, fire once again giving it's constant, reassuring crackle to try and soothe Hers. « There is nothing. I have won. » Drums pound with victorious power, fading away as Azaylia still doesn't respond favorably. « What. » Hraedyth repeats, flames flaring as the source of her bond's fear is hidden away. Quinlys' smile is obviously intended to be encouraging and reassuring, though she's clearly not as practiced as it as some of the other weyrlingmasters; hers falls just a little short. Hraedhyth's bellow has her twitching, though not, at least, jumping outright. Olveraeth pads closer to them, now, twisting his tail around his legs as he settles in alongside his rider, who reaches across to idly scratch at his forelimb. « Because you are closer, » says the blue, scientific-minded and careful. « But the thunder will spread further and further. It comes from a very long way away. » "Faranth," says Quinlys, laughing. "We certainly heard you, Hraedhyth!" Hraedhyth senses that Azaylia is scared. « What. » Comes the demand, fire once again giving it's constant, reassuring crackle to try and soothe Hers. « There is nothing. I have won. » Drums pound with victorious power, fading away as Azaylia still doesn't respond favorably. « What. » Hraedyth repeats, flames flaring as the source of her bond's fear is hidden away. Azaylia straightens up slowly, still tender despite the fresh slathering of numbweed on her midsection. Her palms are slower to retreat, but eventually they fall to her side as she looks towards Quinlys. "I... don't think she was scared." The same can't be said for the weyrling, obviously. Hraedhyth has gone from looking at everyone, to staring directly at her bond with a piercing gaze. Azaylia flinches, "She, we, came out for... something." But it's been forgotten by both dragonet and weyrling. Clubbed wings are still brandished wide, and have begun to quiver as quiet inquiry becomes louder, « What. » Oversized eyes bleed with flecks of crimson as the crackling grows intense, a sharp snap meant for Olveraeth. « No, because I am best. » But it's a fleeting jab, still directing most of that heat at the back of Azaylia's head. Azaylia can feel Hraedhyth's heat, both at the scorching directed at her head, and the smoldering that's shared between them. » Hraedhyth, i-it's nothing. Please. I-I'm not scared. « The lie bangs harsh and tinny, not the gold's honest skinned drums, but of sour foreign metal. (To Hraedhyth from Azaylia) Thankfully, Olveraeth - despite his colour - is conscious of his own role in all of this, and can withstand the snaps from a baby queen that he might not be able to, later on. « Hraedhyth, » he admonishes, sharing a brilliantly blue starscape as he talks. « You will be big and powerful, one day, but not more so than the elements. Sky and wind and water: they will beat you, if you try and conquer them. » Quinlys takes a half step away from her lifemate, closer to Azaylia: she's still looking sympathetic, but now, too, a little concerned. "She's not hungry? Or itchy? Or in need of another wash? Hraedhyth, do you need something?" Hraedhyth bespoke Azaylia with « You shake! Who? What is the cause?! IS IT HIM? HIS?! » Desperation leads to snarled questions, concern for what's hers mingling with anger for those who would dare. "No!" Azaylia snaps, though whether it's directed at Quinlys is uncertain as she clenches her eyes. The dragonet's gaze flares with her inner fire, red and yellow mingling with no trace of that calming blue, Olveraeth's starry sky clouded by inky black smoke. « YOU. YOURS. » Accusations, demands for retribution to crimes neither bluerider nor dragon can possibly know about. She lurches, circling protectively around Azaylia's legs, placing herself between the young women and the mentors. Jaws part, too-large jaws letting loose globs of drool as a deep rumble leaves the gold. Azaylia squeaks, "No, Hraedyth they didn't- they're not it!" She drops, flare of pain ignored as she wraps her arms around that broad neck and hugs herself against the dragonet. "S-Sorry." She peeks at Quinlys, face framed by the bared fangs of her lifemate. With tears she refuses to let fall, Azaylia does her best to douse Hraedhyth's rage. » You. You're what I'm scared of. « The truth is bitter, but it pounds with rhythmic honesty, the racing beat that of the weyrling's heart. A heart that reaches out through their bond. » Scared that you'd do... do this. « Though it may sting, she offers the balm of her devotion to the queen, paired with her physicals attempts to soothe. (To Hraedhyth from Azaylia) Olveraeth summons all the force he can, and adds to it the power of High Reaches' adult queens, always on call at moments like these: « Stop. Hraedhyth, stop. » It's not enough to soothe Quinlys, though, who backs up a step, wide-eyed gaze shifting from Azaylia to Hraedhyth and then back again, over and over again. "No - no, it's fine. Do you know what's bothering her? Keep her calm. Just soothe her. If you can." Olveraeth draws himself up, far taller than the little queen, and with wide jaws of his own. Hraedhyth stops everything. Footfalls of soldiers carrying the flames of her righteous rage fall still, the last strike of a drum echoing eerily as the gold dragon falls back. « Me. » It weighs heavily on her, choked back with heavy black soot. The pain is fleeting, she doesn't allow it to be anything more than that, « You are Mine. » Boyish, youthful voice cracks, « Do not be afraid, please. » She offers the warmth of her hearth as comfort, Hraedhyth simultaneously reaching out for Azaylia to do the same. « Please. » (To Azaylia from Hraedhyth) The source is unknown, at least to those outside their bond, but Hraedhyth does stop. And it is sudden. Young, stocky body nearly collapses on the ground, instead sinking with an unknown weight that splays her front legs on either side. Azaylia only nods her head, letting Quinlys know that she hears her, even though the weyrling's eyes are closed tight. After what might feel like an eternity of heavy silence, "Shhh. None of that now." Hraedhyth's sulking, like everything about her, is not sublte. But she still is a warrior, and she picks herself up, wings gathered and smoothed along her back as she turns yellow-blue eyes up (and up) to Olveraeth. « Feed me. » Azaylia falls slack as well, hesitant to unwrap her arms from the young queen, standing and turning sad eyes onto her instructor. "I'm s-so sorry. That was all my fault. I... yes, she's hungry." On this much, at least, Quinlys can be firm: "Don't be sorry, Azaylia. It's only been a few days-- you're still learning each other. And how to be with each other. I remember how hard it was." The corners of her mouth quirk upwards, a smile found there that holds reminiscence. « You know where the food is, » points out Olveraeth, laying out a path with his thoughts: there's fresh meat right here, pre-butchered (though that will definitely not last for long). « Come on, Hraedhyth. Let's get you fed, so that you can grow up big and strong. » Even as her blue begins to lead the way, Quinlys remains where she is, watchful: she's got her eyes on Azaylia, and there's concern there all over again. Hraedhyth turns to stare at her bond once again, though this time the glance is fleeting, authoritive huff given before she turns away. « Yes. » She agrees with the blue, though makes no move towards the meat despite her resurfacing hunger. It's only when Olveraeth offers to join her does she lift her wide head and lumber towards food. « Yes. Bigger than you. » There's an ominous cackle, or is that a crackle? Azaylia turns to watch the gold's progress, though she's not terribly keen on following. "I am, still." Quinlys can't take her apologies away, it's all she has! "It's so hard." Whimpers border on desperate, "It would be better if I wasn't so tired all the time." She promises, subtly begging the bluerider for forgiveness that she already has. "I'll try to do better, I know she can't... be like that all the time." Hands sift through her loose hair, gripped and combing the slight tangles anxiously. Slowly but surely, Azaylia can feel Hraedhyth growing bolder, regaining her confidence and pushing aside their moment of shared weakness. No more. « I will eat. You will eat. We will eat and be strong together. » It is a command, drumbeats steady and showing no sign of wavering, or growing with ferocious intensity. All is right in her territory, for now. Except for the subtle rumble of Hraedhyth's hunger, but that is something simple. (To Azaylia from Hraedhyth) « Oh, much bigger, » confirms the blue. « But I shall be able to move in the air better than you. I'm still useful. » He settles down in front of the meat buckets, content to watch the whole process with an almost paternal gaze. "I know," says Quinlys, quietly, biting at her lip in awkward wariness. "I remember seeing Iolene and Ysavaeth. Shells, lots of them. Olly and I were easy, but we've-- just always balanced each other. It will get easier, though, I swear it. They're just so little, and they don't necessarily understand. I know you'll do better. She wouldn't have chosen you if she didn't think you were up to the task. Do you need anything? Klah, tea? Something to eat?" Fingers are no good at combing out every knot that's made it's home in Azaylia's hair from neglect, but the motions are somehow soothing. Her hands slow, a sigh of satisfaction leaving her that has everything to do with Hraedhyth shoving her entire head into the bucket. "I can't imagine Ysavaeth being like this." A blink, "Or any gold, really." Quinlys' offers have lips turning up, smile out of practice but genuine. "Klah would be wonderful, thank you- oh. Could I get a plate or two of herdbeast and tubers?" The request is rushed, before she pulls back and ducks her head. "Please." A glance back towards her glutton of a lifemate, "Uhm. Olveraeth? He's really great with her." Hraedhyth thinks so too, and while her jaws don't slow down, there's a quiet murmur for the future, « I can use useful. » Quinlys has got a short, sharp nod for Azaylia's request, one she matches with a smile. "That I can manage. Do you want me to brush your hair out for you? Seems like maybe you could use some you-time. And Olly--" She seems proud. "He'll keep her occupied, promise. I always knew he'd make a good Weyrlingmaster dragon. Ysavaeth wasn't like Hraedhyth, no, but that doesn't mean there aren't struggles. It's normal, that's all I'm saying." Olveraeth seems amused by Hraedhyth's eagerness to eat, though he's quick to send her the reminder of what can happen if she's not careful: pain and hurt and thicktail and ow. « Can you? Good. Then we'll get along fine. » Hraedhyth is happy enough to ignore Olveraeth as he attempts to ruin it with false warnings. « Until you cross me. » Comes the easy threat, rough notes sounding almost muffled as she gorges. Azaylia's hands drop from her hair all together at the Werylingmaster's offer, silent but thinking it over with a bite to her lower lip. "Oh, would you?" Caution is thrown to the wind, slumping. "I haven't had time- she doesn't even seem to sleep like the others. Everything makes her..." Wrist rolls, meant to signify the display from earlier. The young woman stands straight, taking as big a breath as the bandages beneath her clothes allow. She's trying desperately to find where she starts and Hraedhyth begins, "I'd like that very much, Master Quinlys. T-Thank you." There. That was all Azaylia. In reply to that warning, Olveraeth only seems amused. « Noted, » he says, with a muffled flutter of gleeful stars, swept up into an endless, perfect night sky. "I understand," says Quinlys, with quiet intensity. "Give me a minute, and then I'm all yours. You're doing okay, Azaylia. You really are." And off she goes to fetch that food (thankfully, for now, some is kept within the barracks for just these occasions), and a comb. This? This she can help with. Azaylia still has a smile for Quinlys. See? She's trying to be brave. Though as the instructor leaves to get the things she's asked for, the weyrling will attempt to make herself useful by pulling a chair closer. Legs that can usually stand for hours and hours throb with relief as she lowers herself, a slow sigh easing from her lips. Eyes that are closed instantly open as Hraedhyth reaches the bottom of one bucket and tosses it aside with a forceful push of her blunt snout. « ANOTHER. » But this is a joyous demand, delighting in the echo that rings throughout the cavern. And then her muzzle disappears into a mass of butchered flesh, though she has slowed down considerably. « Manners, manners, manners, » teases Olveraeth, not to the point of being chiding, though; there's something amused in his tone. « Good little dragons say please and thank you. Hasn't she told you that? » It only takes a few minutes before Quinlys is back - from the looks of it, she's been distracted, but only briefly, by the requirements of another weyrling - and then she offers the heaping plate to Azaylia saying, "I hope this helps. Just relax for a bit; Olly won't let her get into trouble." And she? She will comb the weyrling's hair out, strand by strand, until it's all tidy once more. « Mine tells me a lot of things. » Dismissive and proud all at once, Hraedhyth shares the good and the bad with all. Waves of warm, curling heat will settle into nearby bellies, not strong enough to override the actual need to eat. But it's a peace offering of sorts, whether the young queen realizes it or not. Azaylia accepts the plate, eyes going wide and perhaps a bit watery at the sight, "O-Oh, thank you so much." Mindful of Quinlys' generosity, the weyrling will try not to move too much as her long hair is tended to. It's an odd balancing act, attempting to be still while Azaylia wolfs down the food with a ferocity shared by her dragonet. |
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