Logs:Wherefore art thou, Azaylia?
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| RL Date: 1 May, 2013 |
| Who: Azaylia, Hraedhyth, K'zin, Rasavyth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Mave's play inspires a production of K'zin's own making, for an audience of two (Wakizian style). K'zin and Azaylia take a time out from reality to share a laugh. |
| Where: Hraedhyth's Ledge and the Bowl Beyond |
| When: Day 2, Month 9, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Mave/Mentions, E'sren/Mentions, Seamus/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Follows Logs: Quashing Quests. |
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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. As the sun is sinking below the tall ridge of the bowl and the sky fills with filmy (thanks to the autumnal fog), but beautiful muted shades of rose and orange, Rasavyth reaches for Hraedhyth. His touch is an oozy tongue of flame skittering across the distance between them to caress the gold's mind in a playful fashion. He's effervescent with amusement, his whole touch a little tickling. « My dear Hraedhyth, my K'zin wishes to know if your Azaylia might be troubled to come out onto your ledge for a moment and look down into the bowl. » What short distance it is. (To Hraedhyth from Rasavyth) From the sky to her flames, sunset hues dancing to Hraedhyth's constant, content drums. Rasavyth is welcome to cut in, that playful touch matched by the gold's fire, lively tendrils curling into claws that offer no true threat. She'll get him if he's not careful! « She will not be. » Troubled. Sparks of good humor steady to a lengthy rumble, growling laughter meant to encourage. She would like to see, and it's good fortune that finds her actually on her own ledge at the moment. (To Rasavyth from Hraedhyth) Hraedhyth got to see the swift positioning then. Perhaps the finger to the lips and the silent sensation of secrecy with a happy surprise intended for Azaylia would be enough to keep the gold from sharing her sight with her rider. It only takes them a matter of moments to be in place. K'zin likes to think that it was his theatrics (Lady Smith) and comedic value (jokes about bronzers in the bathes) that won him his agreed-to date so long ago with Azaylia. And so it is that to this he returns. When Azaylia appears on the ledge, the bronze would be the first to be seen, now 12 and a half feet at the shoulder and many more feet long, settled in a purposefully elegant pose, cloak-like wings unfurled to provide a glittering backdrop for: K'zin. Down on one knee, a single long-stemmed flower extended up toward the ledge. When Ras spots the Weyrwoman moving onto the ledge, K'zin's baritone rings out, "Azaylia, oh, Azaylia! Wherefore art thou, Azaylia?" So, he must have missed the day in Harper grammatical lessons when they taught that wherefore really means why and not where. But it serves its purpose well enough as he quotes a well-known Harper's play. Most likely, he was inspired by the recent success of Mave & Company. His cheeks hold a blush already; after all, this is chancy. Maybe she'll laugh. Maybe she'll cancel the date then and there. Hraedhyth stirs at the sight, bone clubs flexing and coming to rest at her back once more, an excited reflex. Her blue gaze may have sped up, some. Despite the gold's amusement, nothing is spoiled as Azaylia walks out onto her ledge. Even at a distance it's easy to see the twist of confusion she wears, that is until a familiar voice brings her that much closer to the edge. Startled, her eyes widen for only a split second before she's overcome with laughter-- and doing her best not to ruin things with it. The goldrider presses palms to lips, unable to keep soft cheeks from rising, revealing the wide grin she's trying to hide. With little wind to steal her words on the way down she manages a choked, questioning, "K'zin?" Laughter! Laughter is good. It means he's not the most ridiculous man on the face of Pern. Or if he is, it means she likes it. Or at least it makes her laugh. There's no time to chase those white rabbit questions though, as K'zin clears his throat to continue. He improvises a little from the scripted plan thought to add, dramatically, "Yes! Azaylia, it is I! Your valiant and dashing -- um--" A glance shifts to Ras, whose eyes would surely roll if they could, "Suitor! Yes," That's the word, thanks Ras! "Suitor!" His cheeks re-double in their efforts to match the hues in the sky above. Pushing himself to his feet, he moves toward the edge of the ledge and Ras' follows, wings still furled and his steps made just so to provide almost a gracefully swishing to the backdrop as it draws nearer. Not so near that she can't see him, but nearer, flower still extended in the air between them, though clearly not yet offered: he's not done with his prop yet. Flourishing the flower in some silly gesture that eventually brings the flower to lie against his bosom, (yes, bosom. The manly muscley kind.) he goes on, "The time has nearly come and I renew now my-" A glance to Ras, "-affections and wishes to take you on the best first first date I'll ever have," Because you can only have a first first date once in your life. "I've received permission, and so I formally request your and Hraedhyth's company," And then as a brief technical aside he comments in a much less dramatic tone, "Because we won't be allowed to go without her escorting," Then back to the play voice, "For a surprise date to take place one sevenday from now, immediately following the end of weyrling duties." Now there's more blocking to coordinate for K'zin puts the flower in his mouth and turns to "climb", with the assistance of his lifemate boosting from underneath with a carefully placed limb and tail for support, up to where he can scramble (not particularly gallantly)onto the edge of the ledge and rights himself, withdrawing the flower and offering it to the golderider, cheeks bright red, and a big stupid grin on his face. "Say you will?" In the tales that have surely inspired K'zin, the sheltered and demure Lady isn't supposed to be biting back her laughter. Azaylia ruins everything, too genuine to be able to properly play along as the weyrling goes on. His gestures are what keeps the back of her hand pressed against her smiling lips, his words rather sweet. Overly dramatic, but it's obvious she appreciates the sentiment. Hraedhyth's jaw angles when she's mentioned, watching both bronze and weyrling as the latter makes his way onto her ledge. Azaylia manages to find enough composure to take a step and offer a hand to help K'zin up, if he'll accept. It doesn't seem as though she's quite done with the day, simple, warm dress the one she's worn all day. His grin and flushed cheeks prompt her own to settle into something managable and sweet, accepting the flower before giving her answer. "I already..." Hraedhyth rumbles, and the goldrider's words ease out in an amused breath, "Of course I will, K'zin." The grand gesture, the short moment, it's enough to momentarily distract her from reality's morbid fog. She eases forward, flower tucked under her chin in the moment her lips find his for a short, sweet peck. The soft laugh that interrupts midway to something more heated is accidental, "I can't believe you." And yet, she can. The hand is gladly accepted as even pretending to climb a ledge is not an easy feat, and it wouldn't do to have him fall and break something just when the end of the performance is so near! The peck is partially anticipated. K'zin didn't expect it, but recognized it as a possibility and his lips are at the ready to respond with appropriate enthusiasm for the brief brush. "Zay, Zay, Zay," He clicks his tongue as though chiding her, though there's an exaggeratedness to his expression that is unmistakable to clue her in that even this is part of the act. "You got your line right, but your blocking was a little bit off. It's supposed to go..." He steps in, tossing a 'don't eat me!' smile to Hraedhyth before one hand gently curls around the back of Azaylia's left hip, and his right arm slips around her back, as though he's moving to hug her, then with a twinkle of mischief, he's off-balancing the goldrider to dip her; sturdy though the woman is, he's plenty strong enough for the move not to feel the least bit shaky or insecure. He pauses briefly, to gaze dramatically deep into Zay's brown eyes. Then he's pressing a comedically exaggerated kiss to her lips with a ridiculous "MWAH!" smacking noise, before pulling her back upright, though he keeps his arm and hand where they were for the dip, standing close, grinning and laughing. Clearly, this is the end of the script. To ensure that's know, the bronze 'curtains' close, cloaking the slender bronze in his usuall dull-colored wrap. It's on the third tsk that Azaylia's head turns, keeping close enough that her nose brushes along his cheek in order to pin that suspicious side-eye on him. "Did I?" She shouldn't sound so delighted at having made a mistake. Hraedhyth seems inclined to keep K'zin un-eaten, though her steady gaze remains on the two riders. Muscles jump instinctively at being dipped, forced to relax as the weyrwoman trusts the weyrling not to drop her. Soft laughter is muffled by his crushing lips, a squeak heard and felt against the over-exaggerated embrace. Only when she's righted, "You have no idea how much I needed this." A faint reminder of the gloom that awaits them once the curtain truly drops on their temporary stage. "Thank you." Another kiss, one to savor as an encore for as long as she lingers, keeping reality at bay for only a few seconds more. Pulling away, "E'sren had better watch out. Rasavyth might outdo him as a director..." Words pull at her smile, a faint flinch as one subject leads to another and she's resigned in letting him go. The last kiss is returned with gentle feeling. It whispers secrets to Azaylia through the motions of the kiss: that K'zin needed this too; that he is as much touched and wearied by not only the unfortunate passings of recent days, but also the numerous troubles he's had of late in doing the terribly wrong thing while trying to do the very right one. He savors it, but there's something in his kiss that is reassuring that he's not looking for more than what they're sharing right in this moment; in point of fact, he might be relieved that nothing more is to come of this moment and they both know it, which makes it simple instead of complicated and full of questions and doubts. When they part, there's a small smile on his face, and he's looking warmly at the weyrwoman. "Thank you for playing along," And he means it. "And thank you, Hraedhyth." For not eating him; for not giving the game away; for consenting to come on the date to make it all possible. His arm slips from behind Azaylia's back and the other from her hip, but both find her hands and tangle his fingers briefly with hers as they stand face to face. "Pfft." K'zin's dismissal comes then, not willing to let the darker topics cloud these few moments of light enjoyment. "Director? He was just reminding me of my lines. I'll never be a leading man like Seamus, unfortunately. Can't remember the right words." He grins, "Thankfully, Ras remembers damned near everything. Well, sort of remembers. I'm part of his system." But then they're getting into things too personal to be shared, and certainly not romantic. "Anyway. I'm going to go, because this was a perfect moment," He declares, this time not with drama but with clear conviction. "And I'm not letting anything ruin its magical-ness." That's right, he said 'magical-ness'. "So, for our date, you'll need comfortable, but sort of thick pants, good boots, and you should wear something you don't mind getting a little dirty, just in case." He squeezes her fingers lightly before stepping away grinning. "Other than that, Ras'll be in touch in case the weather takes an unfortunate turn." So there are some clues for her, but that's apparently all he's going to say, because he's turning to move back toward the edge of the ledge and the waiting Rasavyth. Hraedhyth answers with a sudden and low rumble, touching Rasavyth's mind with a playful nip as she spreads her wings. It's an invitation to join her in flight once he's rescued his lifemate, the warrior queen's bulk thrown into the air with little care. About as much given should the bronze choose to decline. Azaylia's attention is stolen only to watch the gold take off, dark eyes finding K'zin's face once more. "Director." She echoes, perhaps too carefully. The weyrling's willful cheer manages to inspire her own for a little longer, "Rasavyth sounds smart." Light, a polite brush of the surface with no intent to delve deeper. 'Magical-ness' has her biting her lower lip and only able to give a faint nod until she recovers, "Now you have me curious. But, I really should get back." Hands that are happy to warm his give one last squeeze in return before K'zin is pulling away, the weyrwoman taking a step back. Half turned, she sends them both off with a warm "Goodnight." Miss a chance to fly now that he has it down? Not likely. Especially not when there's a gold to be flow with. So much can be learned from even casual flying. "If he's anything, he's that." K'zin agrees affably, grinning at the goldrider. "Goodnight, beautiful Azaylia!" The encore is on. "Goodnight, goodnight! Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I should wish I were saying goodnight, until it be the morrow!" He edits the line to fit the situation, saying it in perfect timing with Rasavyth lowering him down so that the words time with the man sinking out of sight. Once out of sight, a clearly bawdy call of, "Maybe after I get a weyr though!" is shouted up for one last hopeful attempt for a laugh. Soon enough foot falls and then K'zin in sight as he jogs toward the barracks. Rasavyth follows only a enough distance to leap into the area and soar after Hraedhyth, his mind reaching companionably for hers as the last light of the setting sun catches his lustrous sails. |
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Comments on "Logs:Wherefore art thou, Azaylia?"Alida (Alida (talk)) left a comment on Thu, 02 May 2013 20:21:38 GMT.
- giggles* Goofball. Glad to see something turning out decently for Waki, for once. ^^
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