Logs:What Ifs
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| RL Date: 26 December, 2014 |
| Who: V'ros, R'hin |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: At the graduation party for Reisoth and Iesaryth's last clutch, V'ros and R'hin talk about various subjects, but mostly what ifs. |
| Where: Mountain Meadow, High Reaches |
| When: Day 14, Month 8, Turn 36 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Warm. |
| Mentions: A'rist/Mentions, Jadzia/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Backdated. |
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>---< Mountain Meadow (TP Room - HRW) >--------------------------------------<
A long, broad valley sandwiched between taller mountain peaks, its lush
grasses stand at waist height in the summertime and sway gently in the
constant breeze, dying back only in early winter. In spring, the meadow
comes alive, turning the ocean of green into a sea of reds, blues, yellows
and oranges as tiny flowers burst into bloom. At dawn and dusk, small
herds of wild herbivores might be seen at the end of the valley as shadowy
shapes who keep well away from visitors. Winding along the edge of the
mountain base as it follows a downward slope, a small stream provides
clear, fresh water from the snow-capped peaks.
Available Commands: +tp/help
-----------------------------< Active Players >-----------------------------
R'hin M 52 6'1 lean, sandy hair, pale blue eyes 16s
V'ros M 21 5'8 Slim, Brown hair, Brown eyes 0s
----------------------------------< Exits >--------------------------------- It's a hot summer's afternoon for the graduation of High Reaches' latest weyrlings. Much like the previous class' graduation, it's a picnic, but in deference to the summer heat it starts in the afternoon, the familiar trestle tables and blankets paired with shade cloth, cool drinks, and light foods. While many wings have already claimed some of their weyrling pairs, Savannah is as low key as last time, and it's difficult to tell whether they're even intending to tap a weyrling. Certainly, most of the riders seem scattered here and there, drinking steadily. R'hin, for his part, is chatting with a female weyrling-turned-bluerider, except she already has the wing patch of Snowdrift, so he can be intending to recruit her. They're laughing, sharing a beer under the shade. Given the time of day, and the state of the weather, it's only a small minority of Snowdrift that's shown up to the graduation party. Their mighty wingleader is not, but her trusty wingsecond is at hand, chatting amiably with one of the newly-graduated greenriders and a couple of his wingriders. Just at R'vel's elbow, V'ros is happily standing, legs braced apart, drinking a frothy beverage out of a tall glass. "Where's the fresh meat?" says one of his wingmates, popping up onto his toes to scan over the heads of the small cluster around them. V'ros shrugs, and gives a quick "don't know" as a reply, to which the brownrider, at least ten turns his senior, bumps his shoulder and jerks his head towards where - now that he's spotted them - R'hin and the newly-appointed bluerider are chatting. "Bring her in." Brown eyes flick from the seasoned Wingleader to the ruddy-faced Z'rin. "Uh.." It's a second shrug that accompanies his guttural reply, a confused glance to R'vel, but in the end, V'ros strikes out towards the bluerider - and R'hin. He stops short of a foot away and gives both a forced smile. "Hey." They're laughing. It's just coincidence that they're doing so as V'ros walks up. The bluerider, probably unused to being plied with so much alcohol, practically beams at V'ros. "Wingmate!" she calls, enthusiastically. "R'hin was just giving me all the dirt on my new wingriders," she's winking, yet it's hard to tell whether she's joking or not: R'hin's looking amused enough that it could be true, after all. "Beer?" R'hin invites, much more casually, gesturing for V'ros to join them in the shade, reaching for one of the spare glasses he has next to the pitcher. "Wingmate," V'ros repeats in a less-sure kind of way, with a glance at R'hin from the corners of his eyes and his brows knitted. He clears his throat awkwardly and looks back at Cailena. "All.. true.. probably," he concedes. "They're.. looking for you." Throwing a thumb up, he's gesturing to the knot of Snowdrift riders, but then he moves to take the spare glass R'hin offers; mixed signals? "Not sure what they want." A beat. "Thanks," to R'hin, "how's.. things?" Cailena glances at R'hin, as if he might know why her new wing wants her; he shrugs gracefully, unbothered. Pushing to her feet, the bluerider exhales. "I only hope it's to reward me with beer. Otherwise I'll be coming back later," she says, almost in the air of a threat, yet there's an easy humor to her as she winks at V'ros in passing, heading for the group of Snowdrift riders. R'hin seems to assume V'ros is staying despite his wingmate's summon, given he lifts his own glass of the beer towards the brownrider in silent salute and takes a sip. He's totally not watching Cailena walk away, no. "Hm?" Things. "Yes, fine," and pale eyes now focus intently on the brownrider. "And you?" That makes two - at least V'ros is staring with concern, and not a hint of sexual attraction as she makes her way to the Snowdrift riders. He exhales and lowers himself to the ground, where he sits with his knees bent and his forearms balanced on top, where his hands dangle between. "Better. Better than.. Ista." His fingers close around the top of the glass and rotate it in circles, idly. "Adjusting to.. wing life.. just.." Shrug. "Snowdrift's been flying extra sweeps when we can over Nabol. It's," he frowns, "nasty business." There's a brief ripple of tightened expression at the Snowdrift rider's mention of Ista, R'hin glossing over it with a casual (likely deliberate), "Haven't got yourself jumped in Nabol or anything of late?" Other than that one time, presumably. "No, not.." V'ros' words fall flat and his eyes drop to the ground; that sure is an interesting patch of dirt right there at his feet. "I haven't been on the ground there, since.. K'del suggested we stay away unless.. sweeps. They can't exclude me, or.." He keeps tipping the glass, almost in a rhythm, but his eyes slowly lift back to R'hin. "I've been practicing.. with A'rist and R'sig," like that says it all. Pale eyes have been watching the brownrider all throughout his study of the ground, R'hin's expression at ease. "Ought to practice with a guard, too," he says, after a gulp of beer. "A guard, and a... less respectable sort. Zia might be willing," he adds, with a sudden grin and low-throated laugh. "Bet she'd enjoy it." A beat. "Think that would've helped?" he tips his head, curious. A series of short bobs of his head suffice as his answer, but: "Who's Zia?" V'ros asks, his brows still furrowed. "One of Savannah? I don't think I've.." His lips come together, to compress. "Yes. Maybe? It would have helped. We wouldn't have been.." He winces. "Beaten. So badly. We might have.. taken one of them down.. between the two of us." "But, you had your dragons with you," R'hin says, as if to suggest that gloomy outcome would be highly unlikely. "And you learnt an interesting lesson. Dragonriders are not invulnerable. A wise lesson to learn at a young age." He lifts his glass to his lips, then pauses for a moment. "Jadzia," he says, as if he thought that should've been obvious. "They didn't come until we had already.." V'ros looks up, as if a certain reptilian-patterned brown might appear there. "What if we had been inside? They might have.. they could have.." His expression is strained, his face dropping and turning so he can look at R'hin. "No. We.. aren't." That he sounds confident of. It's that later comment that has his neutrality turning into disbelief. "Jad.. zia.. you call her.. Zia? She never asked anyone to call her that when we were.. weyrlings." He's still staring at R'hin, like all the answers to that conundrum might be visible on the bronzerider's face. "What if an avian fell from the sky on your head? What if you tripped over a rock on your way back to the Weyr and broke your neck? What ifs get you nowhere but stuck in your head." R'hin is vehement on that score, at least, snapping his fingers as if to focus attention here. "You can't let it cripple you, up here," he taps the side of his head, "But next time, try not to look so... ridery. That attracts attention, both good and bad." A low-throated chuckle precedes a twitch of his shoulders. "She didn't ask," he clarifies, about Jadzia. Back to the what ifs. There's speechless gesture from V'ros, his shoulders lifting and falling without enthusiasm. "Hard not to look ridery when we're.. riding dragons," the brownrider grouses, but given who this is, he sighs. "Carry extra clothes? Use other transport?" He has no comment about Jadzia, just a leery stare; whatever they do in Savannah is different, indeed. "You can ride your dragon. Just don't... land where everyone can see," R'hin shrugs. "People make assumptions about a person based on appearance. Might not be able to do it if you're visiting bars with A'rist, though. I think he has... difficulty... adjusting to the concept." He leans over to refill V'ros' glass, then gestures towards the group of Snowdrift riders draw the brownrider's attention. "I think your wing wants you," with a little grin. "I don't get what you mean. You don't think A'rist is.." If only that is with humor or deadpan, but V'ros is genuine. "That he can't be ridery?" It might be best not to answer that, and still, there's fresh beer and there's Snowdrift. His eyes find the group, where Caileda is now, and then shoot back to R'hin in a short span. "You don't mind?" Doubtless, if he leaves with the beer Savannah's wingleader has just poured. "He can't not be," is R'hin's brief, bland response. He makes a go on gesture with the flip of fingers, before reaching for his beer as if to indicate he'll be just fine on his own. V'ros looks like he wants to say more, but he'll settle on a curt nod. He gathers himself up and stands, holding onto his refilled glass. "Thanks for the beer, and.." His eyes drift off as he mutters, "All the advice. Like usual." And like that, he's ambling off, no doubt to get far away before R'hin can give a response. |
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