Logs:Visualize This
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| RL Date: 7 September, 2013 |
| Who: Solith, Telavi, K'zin, Rasavyth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Solith asks Rasavyth for a visualization because Telavi's been driiinking with Tayte. And then they decide to come by, because... why not? |
| Where: Ista & HRW skies, Rasavyth's Ledge and K'zin's weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 27, Month 9, Turn 32 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Aishani/Mentions, Tayte/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Some soft and squishy that predates the angst. (Tayte very briefly cameos.) Back-dated and played via gdocs. |
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| Not long before midnight, Timor lights the Weyr, voluptuous and round; brighter by far than still-slender Belior, it casts silvery light even as it throws the mouths of most weyrs that much more into shadow. High Reaches is far inland, and yet, for Rasavyth, there gets to be an inkling of sea-salt and the distant murmur of waves on the wind, not so far off from Iesaryth; this is her daughter, though, and the sea is Ista's, and the question is unselfconscious but diffident: « Rasavyth? Would you please show us home? » Show, a visualization, because the murmur is also distant voices and the tang in the air not just salt but spirits. Rasavyth's ooze tickles in awareness of the sea-salt and wind. But the touch of Solith is known, even with these additions. « Of course, » But curiosity, and beyond that a touch of concern smelling of leather and orange-peel: K'zin. « Is all well? Show me where you are? » There's not yet an image of home, but there is the sensation of strapless flight. « Oh! All is well, » it's just not stable exactly, though it's not that the island itself is floating away-- though it might seem like that from the Solith's-eye view as she flies gradually up and out from its recognizable silhouette. It's a smooth flight, at least, no shaky-cam, if only for the sake of Tela and her passenger; with it comes a drift of feminine laughter as Solith changes her angle to the wind, and once a warning. « We brought her chum here, » it's a borrowed word, foreign but friendly, « so we must bring her back, you see. I believe she is done making a mess. » For now. His touch vanishes, but only a moment. Then it's close. He's here, a dark form the moons casting over his dull cinnabar bronze hide. His curiosity is gentle. Rasavyth doesn't explain his presence, simply provides the appropriate visualization for the bowl he just left, and a light purr of, « Say when! » Prepared to jump when she jumps, the visualization held firmly in his mind and available for her to copy, and even link to him if she likes, a figurative hand to hold, but only if she wants. Otherwise, he'll simply see her safely to the otherside before he heads for his ledge. Delighted surprise meets him as he shows... up, Solith turning her head Rasavyth's way as does, after a moment, her rider; the green doesn't seem to feel shown up in the least as she accepts that visual. She may not need the helping hand-- does she?-- but she wants to; her handshake's as though she were a glove lighter than air, and within it the near-literal handful of vivid, intangible flame. Where air and fire meet, there's something a little different. But she's moving on, already: « When! » She may not have needed to actually say that either-- did she?-- but she wants to play along with that too. And with that, poof. They're gone, and then they're home again, and the passenger hasn't even yet made another mess. He's not about to abandon his own game. Rasavyth jumps when Solith chooses. It's there in the familiar skies of home that Rasavyth takes his leave, winging back toward his own ledge. Once they've landed, thankfully without any further messy incidents, Tayte is swift to depart, thanks given and assurances that she can find her way home, though there's an occasional stumble and more than a little weaving along the way. Solith watches her go, but only partway through the weaving; then she wiggles vertically, a ripple from head to tail-tip down her spine that surprises Tela into something like a giggle. And then, why not? Soon enough, the green's off to land on Rasavyth's ledge. « We're ba-ack, » carries a gleam of fire floating on air-- never mind that they hadn't been there to begin with. Rasavyth, who's already curled into his wallow, lifts his head when they alight on the ledge, eyes whirling a touch faster with his curiosity. « Welcome back. » He offers amused, leaving Solith the sense of invitation toward the empty wallow nearby. « He is at work within. » He offers further, not failing to miss that it's not just Solith who's come visiting. The sound of K'zin at work sounds like the tapping of a teeny tiny hammer. Because that's what he's doing. On his knees next to the table which has a spread of tools on its top, he's got some sort of metal box with gears inside and he's tapping one of them into place, teeth interlocking tightly. K'zin himself has evidence of his work, grease smears here and there, his hands are dirty, and there's even signs and scents that he was at the forge earlier in the day and hasn't yet been for his bath. Why, then Solith makes herself right at home, making her way inside with a cheerful tilt of her wings and Telavi, clinging low to the green neck quite as though she were in real danger of being scraped off against the walls or ceiling or something, still aboard; she settles in that wallow and deigns to let Tela off, the girl easing herself past that second curtain and into the weyr as though suddenly she were a spy. Tools? Gears? Perhaps a spy, then, sent by some rival smith to make off with this one's secrets. She must be an overt rather than covert sort of spy, though, given how she wanders more or less right toward the man at work, even if her footfalls are so quiet. Meanwhile, the wallow is more than big enough for one bright-eyed Solith, but that doesn't seem to stop her from casually, so casually stretching out her forepaws to take up more of the more figurative stretch of ledge between them. Rasavyth watches Solith. His ooze reaches out, and after a thoughtful moment a mental impression of a thick chalk line is drawn just in front of where her forepaws have stretched to. Then he waits, giving no indication of what the line is for or what she should or shouldn't do about it. He just waits, patiently observing. K'zin was apparently not warned of Telavi's coming, because he looks startled when her footfalls are finally close enough for them to impinge upon his intense focus. Given the quietness of those footfalls, it means the greenrider is practically upon him before he notices. The hammer swings just as he notices and, "Ah!" Smack, right into his finger, which comes away shaking at the end of his flapping hand as he pushes up onto his feet swiftly. Then, of course, the grimy digit needs to be sucked on, because this will somehow help with the pain of being hit with a small hammer. "Tela, hi," he manages after pulling the finger out of his mouth. "What're you--" But he thinks better of that question and goes back to, "Hi." He shifts awkwardly, still wiggling that one hand at his side now, and looking a little uncertain. Did he forget another date? If he did (which he didn't), the greenrider doesn't seem to be miffed... though her all-of-a-sudden "Careful!" is in reaction to his exclamation and thus too late, and neither is she jumping for joy about that. Add all that shaking, and her brows are so confused: are they headed toward laughter? Reproach? What is she doing here? But Tela's too busy for her brows, especially since it's not like the shaking is shaking his finger off; she follows that up with, "Let me see?" It's barely a question, particularly linked as it is with how she's reaching with the intent to scoop his hand right up, even if maybe it's still damp. And since she evidently hadn't missed the gears and things as she approached, "What're you--" teeny, tiny pause, "working on?" As for Solith, it's not so dissimilar what with the bright eyes and the curiosity, even if hers aren't tinged in the least with concern. The line is a thick one, and therefore, still watching Rasavyth, she edges her talons forward and into it without, quite, crossing. K'zin doesn't resist Tela's scooping of his hand, "It's nothing. Has happened a million times," He assures quickly. "I just didn't expect to see you here. Now. I mean. Ras said everything was okay, so..." So... "Have a good time?" He asks, before glancing down to the machinations at his feet. "Tired of dragging the curtains across. I'm making cranks for a wired pulley system so it'll do the work for me." Laziness: the parent of invention, not that this is a new idea, but new for this weyr anyway. Something else new to this weyr is the way that suddenly Solith's paws have pale green chalk outlines around them, as though tracking her motion. Rasavyth watches the ooze-orchestrated marks appear and then flicks his gaze back to the dragon herself. Her move. Fascinating. She lifts up her paw, delicately: does the outline follow her paw? Does it stay where it was? And then, of course, Solith sets it down again-- past the line!-- to see what happens then: another print? There's a moment in between where her glance lifts to the gamemaster, turquoise made brighter for being wholly unlidded. Her rider, having satisfied herself of the relative physical integrity of K'zin's own paw, pats it and returns it to him, without even inspecting her own hands for the signs of grime that must have transferred. But then, she's dropping into a crouch, her hair swaying forward from the coronet braid that's all that contains it, the better to get a look at the sizeable box. And its gears. "It was fun, she says, and glances up at him before reaching with a finger to see if any of those gears already move, because Solith isn't the only one for whom 'look' so often means 'touch.' "Catching up with someone I hadn't talked to in a while, and the weather was good and the drinks were amazing but I couldn't do them justice because of the stories and oh, K'zin." Tela shakes her head, can't help but laugh, the sound rippling with appreciation and a little incredulity... and the merest trace of discomfort. The chalky paw-print stays on the ground, and when she places her paw over the line, a new mark appears, but pale purple this time, luminescent in the moonlight. K'zin crouches when Tela does, reaching to intercept her hand as she goes to move a gear, "They need to be greased, yet." He notes apologetically. "Haven't gotten that far yet." His hand lingers around hers and in fact, is used to try to pull her back to her feet along with his graceful rise from the crouch. "If I'd known you were coming, I'd've bathed." These are his distractions, things he's thinking while she's talking, but he's not lost most of what she says, "You couldn't drink because of the stories?" He questions, canting his head to one side, curious. After a moment to admire it, of course the paw has to go back behind the line: will it still leave a print? What color will it be?! Her rider defers to the smith with a regretful nod, with rising with him, with what might have been a question except he keeps talking and then she's turning into his grease-smeared self instead of away. "Oh," she says with interest, and this is where Tela really should be paying more attention to her nice clothes if she wants to preserve them, but no, she inhales deeply of all those workman-fumes and she doesn't shy away. It's a puzzle: why is K'zin not stinky? Or since technically he is, why isn't it a problem? Is someone going to come take away her 'fastidious' card? She leans in for another hit, her other palm to his chest for balance, but just winds up with a low, murmurous hmm. But wait, he has a question... "Oh, I did! I drank-- I think I drank quite a bit," she confides with an upward glance through her lashes, seeking out those warm brown eyes. "It's just that they were good drinks and really deserved to have more attention paid to them. Don't you think that's important? For a drink. When you're not just trying to get tipsy?" Once Solith's paw is back across the line, it's back to a green print she leaves behind. The others linger, of course, so she can see the full picture of her handiwork. K'zin's hands don't leave behind marks (well, much) on her clothes as he wraps Telavi in his arms. If she's coming to him, well... He'll take advantage, bathed or not. "Did you." It's not really a question, but the bronzerider's lips start to curl in an amused smile. "I don't think I've ever been around you when you've had quite a bit to drink." He reaches to brush a lock her her hair away from her face and tuck it behind her ear. "I can't say as I usually pay attention to what I put in my mouth. Food or drink." Which is to say, too, that he doesn't likely notice when it's good quality versus poor. He's leaning his head down though, interested in something with his mouth, a soft kiss just at the bottom of her ear. Naturally, that means that Solith must leave off the wallow to prowl onto and then along the stretch of of ledge, the better to see whether her hindpaws leave prints too, again with a glance back to Rasavyth along the way. Prowling or no, her paws stay delicately placed, and not just in case they're the beginnings of some pattern; her tail meanwhile floats above the ground, its tip a tiny banner. Over by the table, that hmm returns more like a mmm, Telavi altogether too happy to lean into K'zin's support; she scuffs off one of her strappy Ista-worthy sandals, and when her toes discover his undone boot laces, of course she has to play with them. "Quite a bit, but luckily for us, not too much...." Though her smile at his touch is undeniably soft, it starts to hold rather more mischief, right through his clarifying before she can-- and right until his kiss, tickly enough to catch her breath up into a laugh, soft enough that she angles her head to give him better access instead of less. Maybe he'll still let her ask, "...Do you have plans? Or do you make it up as you go?" Maybe she should clarify, this time. "...The pulleys?" Well, now the line arcs out and around Rasavyth's wallow. And the colors of her prints depend on which side of the line she's on. The side closest to Rasavyth is purple and the side closer to her borrowed wallow, green. The dragon's eyes follow her. K'zin's haven't left Tela's now more vulnerable neck which receives further attention from his lips. It's almost distracting when she asks. Though, it turns out to be necessary that she clarifies because he was already starting to answer, against her neck: "I like to make things up as I go-- oh. Oh. For that I've got blueprints. Have to do all the measures and everything ahead of time. Not really the sort of thing you'd want to wing." His head's pulling back now to look down at her. "I'm glad you haven't had too much. He glances back toward the ledge and then toward his project. "Staying a while?" He queries. What if her paws step right down the middle of the line, so very uncharacteristically balanced and prim? Are they two-tone, or does one color win? Not that Solith waits to see its effects before starting in; if she were in a field, these would the beginnings of crop circles. Or, perhaps, crop squiggles. As for Telavi, K'zin's more than almost distracting her; one hand tightens in his less-than-immaculate shirt as though it could help her focus on actual words, or possibly as though she has issues with its still being on. "Mmm. Blueprints." Blueprints. "Did you come up with--" He stops, he talks, she stops, she... well, she smiles with an odd touch of shyness, as though it's somehow daring to simply say, "Yes." Though Tela does think to add after a moment, with a similar touch of politeness, "Will it take a long time?" The box, likely, but this time she doesn't say. Those prints down the middle of the line remain green, unless a stray talon truly crosses it, in which case that part of the outline turns purple. Rasavyth watches. It's difficult to say from the manner in which he watches if he is simply amusing himself or perhaps trying to plumb the depths of who Solith really is through simple exercises and observation. K'zin's studying something of another nature: specifically the way Tela's lips curl and the edge of shyness that's usually so lacking between them. "Mmhm," is his answer for blueprints. But it's distracted. He doesn't even glance to the box as he abruptly leans in, one arm slipping behind Telavi's knees and the other behind her back, whisking her off her feet and into his arm to carry her toward the bedroom. Apparently, he's done now. Either way, it doesn't seem to affect the enjoyment Solith gets out of this game, his game; she's entertained, to the point of sometimes shuffling to lay down a more solid line, but eventually even she must stop-- on the borderline, of course, except across rather than along it-- lest it become an amorphous mass of greenness next to one of purpleness and no real design at all. Settling down, she yawns, offers Rasavyth a light bump of her nose by way of thanks, and rests her head on her paws with a little wiggle as though she were settling into her very own self-made pillow. And as for Tela, she can ask K'zin all about the intricacies of the gears... later. |
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