Logs:Well Met
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| RL Date: 23 September, 2012 |
| Who: Azaylia, Hattie |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Azaylia wants to see Fort's eggs. Hraedhyth says no. Elaruth says yes. And the 'Reachian junior finally gets to meet Fort's Senior Weyrwoman. |
| Where: Hraedhyth's Ledge, High Reaches Weyr/Galleries, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 14, Month 11, Turn 29 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Brieli/Mentions, Iolene/Mentions, Tiriana/Mentions |
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| Hraedhyth's Ledge, High Reaches Weyr Turns of inclement weather and use have smoothed out niches here and there for a current occupant and perhaps a companion, on this slightly downward impressed ledge. It's otherwise unremarkable: large, of course, and low to the ground, though not so low as to provide ground access from here. Being so low, the view is not especially spectacular, though it does make an excellent point from which to keep a steady eye on goings on in the bowl, from the living caverns entrance to the north, and as far as glimpses of glimmering blue on the horizon from the weyr lake. Azaylia sighs at the sight of the dejected harper apprentice walking out of her weyr. She doesn't like telling people no, particularly if it's within her ability to do something for them. Normally she would be fine with flying him over to the Fort Region but since Elaruth's clutch she has had to turn more and more people away. Hraedhyth refuses to 'invade' Fortian territories so long as there are eggs on the sand. The added annoyance is that the young woman would like actually like to see them before they hatch. Which of course, is an unacceptable want and the closest her dragon has ever come to scolding her. "Fine," Azaylia utters with a hint of annoyance, walking out onto the ledge. "Can we at least visit to wish Elaruth and the Weyrwoman well? It would be the polite thing to do." Hraedhyth's solution comes swiftly. They don't need to actually go anywhere in order to do that. Which of course, is not the answer her rider is looking for... Heat. A curious flicker of flame at the very edge of marshy boarders, Hraedhyth sends scouts out along the trail that is foggy from draconic memory. The drums roll with Hraedhyth's contralto, much more rich than when she had last spoken with the Fortian Matriarch, « You have eggs on the sands. » An answer to a question that no one has asked, she continues. « Congratulations. » The sentiment is late, as well as genuine. Her raucous happiness is muted but certainly felt, cautious, and she offers no excuse for her forgetful nature. (Hraedhyth to Elaruth) It's instinctive, the gathering and rising of mist that seeks to protect all from heat and flames, until Elaruth is certain as she can be that there is no attack soon to be launched. « Yes. » With that, nothing but contentment; everything is as it should be, the warmth of pale sunshine touching her voice. « Thank you, Hraedhyth. » Certainly there is no excuse or apology expected, so perhaps it's just as well that none is offered, her pride in her clutch extended not to expectations of congratulations and compliments from others (but if offered, of course they are deserved). (Elaruth to Hraedhyth) The instinct is expected, even from a queen so young. Hraedhyth does her best to lower her hackles, drums slow and careful as she waits. What may not be as anticipated is Elaruth's contentment, or the foreign warmth of her sunshine. The temperature rises ever so slightly, black smoke swirling in with the mist, an offer to aid in concealment. It is an odd mood that she is in, « My Sister does not cause you much discomfort with her visits? » Hopeful for both Iesaryth's continued travels and the Fortian gold's well being. In distant flames there is an anxious envy that is not her own, but an entity so much softer and yet tied to the gold. (Hraedhyth to Elaruth) « Your sister is very considerate, » Elaruth seeks to assure, quiet, still air touched with a tang of sea salt that might draw the Monaco-bred queen to mind. « She behaves very well. » If Hraedhyth is in an odd mood, her offer to aid in concealment wordlessly accepted, Elaruth too might be that bit differently; must be having a good day, more settled this morning than she has been over others. Perhaps it explains her: « Do you wish to follow in her steps? » Invitation? Inquiry? (Elaruth to Hraedhyth) To Elaruth, Hraedhyths relief is obvious, a gusty sigh that has smoke swirling with mist. Kept separate by stark contrast, yet content to share the same space for now. « I am glad. » Not that she was too worried, given Iesaryth's temperament. Surprise is obvious, striking a drum too hard and too fast only to return to the even, slow rhythm. « I do not. » Which is the truth, « I understand. » How important eggs are? How it feels to have outsiders invade? And yet, reluctant, « Mine wants to see them. To wish you all well. » Which may be telling of the gold's attempt to satisfy her rider without actually invading. Is that relief from Elaruth too, that gentle breath of a cool breeze that gently rustles the tops of tall reeds? For all her contentment, for all her... belief? That Hraedhyth would behave, another queen near her precious eggs is still another queen. « You may leave her here, if you wish, » is her whispered attempt to aid in some kind of compromise. « Or at the Hold, where all those people are. » Outsiders that upset her little blue guardian so. « She would not come to any harm. » /That/ is a promise, as much as she can make it. (Elaruth to Hraedhyth) To Elaruth, Hraedhyth's restraint is somewhat practiced, but there is still a lurch at the suggestion of leaving her rider anywhere. Alone. It fans her flames, venting at the very idea until she settles once more. She understands.. « The weyr is safer. » Than the Hold. Than with non-riders, especially. The Fortian Matriarch's promise is taken to heart, a sliver of trust offered because it's what Hers wants and it's what can be done. « Thank you. » She remembers to add. « It is. » Safer, though of course Elaruth would believe this. As for her promise, how could she not seek to protect another's rider when she would want the same for hers? The water-heavy mist flung up in defense against flames sinks down once more, settling in a thin blanket over shallow water. « You are welcome, Hraedhyth. » (Elaruth to Hraedhyth) Imagine Azaylia's surprise in finding out that she will be able to visit Fort Weyr today. Galleries, Fort Weyr The entrance to the sands and galleries alike is little more than an archway and a section of flat stone before it dissolves into the sands proper. Although it's warm here, it's not nearly as hot as the sands themselves are. To the right is a broad pathway leading to the stands, with a set of stairs leading up one side all the way to the upper tiers. Also visible from here is an odd engraving on the wall -- an etching that details the rotation of the Red Star. Lined along the right-hand side of the hatching cavern are the galleries, the seats carved from the stone wall and stacked backward to allow observers the best view possible of the golden sands. Those at the bottom are protected from wayward dragonets by a railing, while dignitaries from outside the Weyr -- Lord Holders, other Weyrleaders, Craftmasters and their ilk -- have a specially designated spectator's box at the topmost row. There are three separate flights of stairs leading into the galleries, with one near the entrance, another set in the middle, and a flight at the northernmost end. The Galleries are usually quiet in the hours before lunch and today is no exception, very few people dotted about in the stands and all but silence hanging over the spacious cavern. Down on the Sands, Elaruth lies in a neat little oval amidst her eggs arranged just so, gently nosing at the closest with so light a touch that it does not disturb them in their cradles of sand. Eyes steadily whirling in a calm, pale shade of blue, it might seem that her guard is completely down, yet the subtle tension in her shoulders and the curve of her neck speaks otherwise: do not upset mama. Her rider is presently studying the smallest of the clutch, careful hand laid against its shell, head tilted as though listening for a response. There is no mistaking the Reachian gold when she appears from between over Fort Weyr. Hraedhyth's bellow announces her arrival to all the natives rather than just the few that are necessary. As she lands, her flames are even hotter, « We are here, Elaruth. » But not for long. As soon as Azaylia dismounts, the tawny dragon launches herself back into the air and flies even beyond the rim. She'll wait well outside of the weyr, giving Dam and clutch all the space they need. Azaylia may need to ask for directions on her way to the Galleries, stopping her light jog just at the edge of the entrance. Slow, careful strides bring her in the rest of the way, eyes for the queen and then Hattie. "Weyrwoman. Elaruth." Breathless from more than just her pace. Despite her invitation, that bellow is definitely not appreciated by Fort's Senior queen, earning Hraedhyth a less gentle rebuke than their earlier communication. « You will be quieter next time, » she insists, as an elder queen to a younger; senior to junior. And yet: « Welcome. » Elaruth tracks Azaylia's progress the moment that the 'Reachian goldrider steps inside the Galleries, attention lifting from her eggs to follow the steps she takes, eyes still that same blue. As for Hattie, she starts towards the Galleries as soon as her lifemate notes Azaylia's presence, skirting around one egg, then another, until she reaches the rows of seating. "Azaylia," she greets, gaze straying from her to find the roof of the cavern and skies beyond. "...And Hraedhyth." Hraedhyth mentally winces, flame shrinking only to flicker back to it's usual glory. « As you wish. » A ring of fire surrounds a single blossom, projected freely to those who care to listen. Hers will be protected, as their Matriarch said. "Yes. Sorry. She's normally loud and- yes." Azaylia stammers from around a small, delighted smile, doing her best not to seem too energetic. "High Reaches duties to Fort. And to you both. Thank you." Still surprised, it would seem, at being able to actually see their eggs. She doesn't push her luck, standing up on her tiptoes and trying to get a look from where she stands at the very edge of the cavern. She doesn't dare get closer. "She's heard worse." Not exactly reassuring, but Hattie seems to mean well by it, slipping into the Galleries with quick stamp of her feet and absent brushes at her clothes to be free of any stray grains of sand. "And Fort's duties to you and your queen." Having to look up at the younger Azaylia, she turns her focus to Elaruth and her eggs instead whilst the little queen doesn't feel so possessive as to shield her clutch with her wings. "She's not aggressive," she attempts to assure. "Being that I'm sure you aren't going to rush the Sands. She just... like things a certain way and for nobody to upset that." Embarrassment does wonders to calm Azaylia, giving a nod of thanks at the appropriate, formal greeting. "Still, she should have known better." Leaving it at that, a step or two is taken towards the first row of the Galleries. "I promised that I wouldn't upset her." A moment, "N-Not that I ever would, Ma'am." It's simply best to be extra cautious, hands folded in front of her skirt, where they can be seen. "I can imagine." Her pace is unhurried, eventually reaching the rail and giving a soft exhale, "Oh. And a gold egg..! You must be proud." Offered to Weyrwoman or dragon, most likely both. And this is her trying not to gush. "No, I don't imagine that you would," Hattie says dryly, sneaking another quick look up at Azaylia. Not what she was expecting? Maybe. "Yes, she is." Proud. "I am. We are, I mean. Of course, it only makes her all the more particular about everything. I admit that I'm not looking forward to letting any of the girls get near it. I expect that it's going to upset her a great deal." Shrugging, she offers a wry smile. What's to be done? "You're welcome to attend the Hatching." In-case there was any doubt. "Even if Hraedhyth doesn't wish to linger." Azaylia turns to cast a glance down at Hattie, smile stubbornly claiming her face. She's absolutely giddy. "This is the first time I've seen eggs on the sand since I impressed." The shift in perspective, in how she perceives them now is inevitable. The Weyrwoman can only hold her gaze for so long, competing with the various oval shapes out on the sands as well as their Dam. "Will it?" A hint of worry now, leaning forward some with hands on the railing. She has no solution to offer, falling quiet until Hattie's invitation. Squeak. "Really? Oh. Thank you. I didn't want to impose but..." Baby dragons. "I think she'll will be alright by then. It's the eggs she's worried about." And Elaruth by association. "Thank you." "Well," Hattie muses in a murmur. "I'd be lying if I didn't think the girls' reaction to her at her most protective won't be telling. Which ones back off and which ones still want to get close to her gold egg. Any of the eggs, really. I think you can tell a lot about them in those moments." And, from the low cast to her voice, she /needs/ to know about those girls who would be a goldrider. "Elaruth appreciates that she doesn't want to get any nearer than she is. She doesn't mean to be impolite, but other queens are still a threat. On Hatching day, everything will be different." She nods, as if to confirm that to herself more than for Azaylia. "I ran from Hraedhyth." Or, tried to. The truth isn't so much blurted out as it is gently confessed to the Weyrwoman. In the quiet warmth, with their voices gentle, how could she be anything but candid? Azaylia lowers her head, somewhat sheepish, "But I do understand wanting someone who's a bit more... brave." At the mention of the pale queen, brown eyes find her curled form once again. "I'm glad. It's not impolite, really." Fingers find each other, nervously wringing at the possible cause for her dragon's behavior. "I don't think she remembers what happened to Ysavaeth. Not exactly," Freely speaking of Reachian events, old as they may be. "But she still feels how sad it is to have expected things taken away. That this is a fragile time." A mumble, mentally chiding herself for what she sees as rambling, "Orsomething." "It took all my willpower to stay still on the Sands." One confession for another, Hattie's dark gaze flitting from egg to egg, arms lifting to knot beneath her chest. "Whether they pay attention to all the other eggs will say enough. If they only have eyes for the gold /because/ she's going to be a gold, then..." She shrugs one shoulder, dismissive of those girls, whether they truly exist or not. Mention of High Reaches' Senior brings a certain shadow to her expression, lips pressed together in a thin line. Not one word does she speak of her. "She's had eggs not hatch," the Weyrwoman says softly, in the hopes of Elaruth not hearing mentally or vocally. "I know." Azaylia blinks, surprised by the exchange of truths. "It's important to trust Elaruth's daughter to know better." Than to impress to someone with so much ambition as to disregard the actual creature they're meant to bond with. Her gaze has steadily shifted between the Weyrwoman and the sands, doing her best to keep attention even and polite. She catches a glimpse of Hattie's expression at the mention of Ysavaeth, chin dropping to peek at her own boots. "I'm sorry." When she straightens it's with an attempt to brighten things, "Shouldn't talk abut things like that. Bad luck." Or something. "They're all beautiful. I appreciate getting to see them." Another smile, "I don't mean to overstay my welcome." If she actually is. An antsy Hraedhyth is more than eager to fly the few miles over to retrieve her rider when the time comes. Hattie smiles slightly, fighting it, twisting it into a little lopsided sort of thing. "I did last time." Trust Elaruth's daughter. She takes a deep breath in and shakes her head a little, tipping her gaze back up to Azaylia as she tells her, "Don't be." Whether for mention of the 'Reachian Senior or the unfortunate fate of eggs. "Things happen. Most of us aren't very good at talking about them." Herself included, wryness touching her tone. "But they are--" focus captured by the neatly-arranged clutch on the Sands, her smile blossoms into something more like the genuine article, "beautiful." Perhaps she'd fall to silence, yet something urges her to speak, arms knotting more tightly. "I know everything is... difficult," being the polite word to describe it all, "but you are welcome. We all need to tread carefully." Azaylia only knows how tread carefully, even with her words. "Is that... do you think it was a mistake?" To trust the hatchling the last time. In an instant, "I'm sorry. That was a rude question. I shouldn't pry." Her chin dips once more, and it looks as if the young woman is attempting to shrink shorter. It lasts until the pangs of embarrassment finally release her, allowing the junior to straighten. "I'm jealous of the Candidates." A tip of her head, "And at the same time, not." Because she has Hraedhyth, despite all of the brawny gold's quirks. Brown eyes catch the tightening of Hattie's arms, hand reaching to instinctively touch one of her elbows. The moment it makes contact, she pulls back awkwardly, startled by her own bold actions. Tone is apologetic though she continues, "We're from different Weyrs, but we're still Weyrwomen. We should look out for each other." Optimistic, foolishly so, it's Azaylia at her most pure. "No," Hattie says immediately. "No, not at all. What can any of us do but trust their choices, besides?" Like her voice, her smile turns wry as she says, "And if I did know which girl I wanted her to choose, who's to say that I would truly know that girl well enough to tell? That she wasn't putting on a front?" On the Sands, Elaruth stirs, settling down with her head on her paws, head tucked down against the gold egg in question. "I'm jealous that they've it all ahead of them. Sometimes, I wish she was tiny again. How I would do things differently..." Surprised, she doesn't start at the younger goldrider's touch, and in-fact, after a moment to consider, reaches to lay a gentle hand upon Azaylia's arm. "Yes, we should," she says sincerely. "I was... /angry/... at what happened." To Tiriana. "That that should be made to do that to each other. All we can do is try to make sure we don't turn on each other." Azaylia is relieved on behalf of past gold impressions. "The dragons know. Though I sometimes still wonder if I was the right choice, I have to put my trust in them." Their intuition, their ability to see past it all. She turns her head, watching Elaruth settle with a smile, "I think we all might want that, at least a little. We know so much more now." Versus the bumbling mistakes made by a soul burded with another, the confusion of weyrlinghood. The queen is left to her peaceful rest, the touch to her own arm drawing Azaylia back to Hattie. "Hraedhyth was furious." Said with a laugh that doesn't quite make it past a breath. "I was... scared." It's a good bet she still is, if only a bit. "I think... hope, that as long as we do what's right, that it won't happen again. It can't." She won't let it. Or rather, Hraedhyth won't. "It can't happen again." On that front, Hattie agrees wholeheartedly. "To any of us. If ever anyone tries to make us do that again... We say no. We refuse. We--" Something. Anything that she could think of to stop it. Instead, she clamps her mouth shut against any babbling or any greater clue to how shaken the whole thing has the potential to make her. "If only we all agreed about what was right," the Weyrwoman murmurs. "Anyway." Not so reluctant to look up at Azaylia anymore, she tells her, "I there's anything /you/ need..." stress entirely meant: not the 'Reaches, only Azaylia or Hraedhyth; both, "let me know." A flex of shoulders, a glance at Elaruth, then: "If I understand it right, you're under Elaruth's protection here. So I think I'll trust you to egg-watch alone," with a teasing twinkle in her eyes. "Well met, Azaylia." It's not doubt in Azaylia's gaze, but a consideration for what could happen. What if the circumstances are different, what if it's truly unavoidable in their eyes? What if, what if. Despite it all, "It won't happen again. To any of us." She echoes, perhaps to soothe the older woman if only without realizing it. "O-oh." Once again startled at the kindness, not for who it's from but because she's never expecting it, "I will. We will. Thank you again, Weyrwoman." She dips her head, knees buckling in something like a curtsy without the learned flair, "Well met, Weyrwoman Hattie. I'll only stay a bit longer." And she does, what with manners in mind as well as Hraedhyth's anxieties about being separated for too long. |
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