NorCon MUSH - User contributions [en]

D'kan

2014-03-13T19:41:19Z

D'kan:

{{HrwProfile
|picture=D'kan.jpg
|position=Wingrider
|dragon=[Dragon:Empires_And_Excess_Brown_Kazavoth]
|craft=
|birthplace=High Reaches Hold
|mother=Dydael
|father=Korlen
|siblings=None
|children=
|friends=
|playedby=[http://justinrain.com/ Justin Rain]
|livejournal=}}

== Description ==

Raven black hair and eyes nearly as dark stand out against D'kan's medium skin tones. He normally keeps his thick hair cut close, but when it gets a little long, it starts to take on a full and messy look. His high cheekbones lend to the almond shape of his eyes and can occasionally give his cheeks a slightly gaunt look. His slightly pointed chin and wide mouth give his face a mildly inverted triangle shape. A narrow and slightly upturned nose combine with small ears to give the young man a slightly impish cast, especially when he smiles.

D'kan's height seems to have settled just shy of six feet. He might have started out lanky, but he's started to fill out in recent turns, aided in development and toning by good old-fashioned manual labor, also evidenced in the thick callouses on his hands. His shoulders have started to take on a broad, rounded look, but the rest of his frame has remained long and lean.

== WYSK ==
* D'kan started as Kaeden, a dock worker from High Reaches Hold.

* He came to the Weyr sometime shortly before Turnover, Turn 30, ostensibly to ensure some precious cargo made it safely from the Hold to the Weyr.

* He was asked by Azaylia to Stand for the combined clutches of Hraedhyth and Iesaryth. (D7 M1 T31 I10)

* D'kan impressed to Empires And Excess Brown Kazavoth of High Reaches Weyr. (D1 M4 T31 I10)

* He was tapped into Glacier by Jo following graduation. (D15 M4 T32 I10)

== History ==
Kaeden spent all his life around High Reaches Hold, right up until he left for the Weyr. He is an only child of a fairly nondescript set of parents. His mother works in the laundry, his father is just a general handyman/worker. Not quite drudge levels, but not all that far above, either. As Kaeden got older, he started to develop into a fairly outgoing kid. He had no issues talking to perfect strangers, but more than that, he had a knack for getting perfect strangers to talk to ''him''. He also found that his parents' work was beyond dull, so he started reaching out for something more interesting.

When Kaeden was a young teen, he started working on the Hold's docks. At first, he simply helped load and unload the ships and wagons as needed, but as he became more familiar with the work, he started helping out in some of the administrative tasks, too, like coordinating schedules, working with trader caravans, and organizing work crews. By the time he'd reached his later teens, he wasn't exactly second-in-command of the docks, but he was definitely becoming someone the dockmaster started to look to when something needed to be not just done, but done correctly and quickly.

When the divided leadership issues began to develop up at the Weyr, Kaeden's boss asked him to go... check it out, to put it nicely -- spy, less so. Itching for a change of pace (not to mention something to do that felt ''important''), Kaeden went, arriving just in time for the Turnover party at the end of Turn 30. His cover story was that he'd come along with a shipment to see to its safety personally, then he just happened to stay for the party. Afterward, he was dragging his feet about finding a way back to the Hold when Azaylia asked him to stand. Well, he couldn't say no to ''that'', now could he?

Just under three months later, Kazavoth found him near the end of the hatching. After weyrlinghood, the two of them joined Glacier Wing, and building on skills discovered during Kazavoth's development, they began taking on extra transport duties. This eventually evolved into a mildly lucrative side business, as Kazavoth seemed particularly adept at moving the heavier, bulkier loads. With growing ties to the Miner and Smith crafts, the two of them transferred to Telgar Weyr, to work more directly with the Smiths on day 26, month 3, turn 34 of Interval 10.

== Relationships ==

* '''[[Aishani]]''': Everything changes, given enough time. What's changed there?

* '''[[Alida]]''': First weyrlings together, now wingmates. We've had some rare and deep discussions. Doesn't show her vulnerabilities often, which makes it that much more startling when she does.

* '''[[Azaylia]]''': She was given the captain's knot in the middle of a stormy night. One the one hand, I can't blame her for wanting to get her bearings before filling the sails. On the other hand, I kind of just want to get to shore already. At least we're moving again.

* '''[[C'wlin]]''': Things got weird after he and N'hax were bumped back to the barracks. Keep wondering how he's doing. Gotta do something about that.

* '''[[E'sren]]''': Now that weyrlinghood is over, I think I better understand why he went for all that extra hidework and studying. I hope he's good for Sabella.

* '''[[Hana]]''': I grew up with Hana back at High Reaches Hold. We learned to dance together as kids, then went our separate ways when it came time to start working for our keep. If there's a toss dance, and she's there, I'm in. It's been really nice to have a familiar face around sometimes drastically unfamiliar environments. We drifted once I got caught up in weyrlinghood, but it's time to mend that.

* '''[[Jo]]''': She was just kidding about shanking... right? Not entirely sure I want to find out, but it seems like a good thing being on the same team.

* '''J'tor''' (NPC): Fellow brownriding weyrling, whom I tapped to be Sabella's backup wingsecond that one month. Why? Dunno. Kaz and I both like Adrovanth, and J'tor's just a kid, so he was a safe choice. It was a weird decision to have to make so early into things.

* '''[[K'zin]]''': I know more about him from other people than from K'zin himself, as we've tended toward different circles since candidacy.

* '''[[N'hax]]''': If I ever ran into some serious trouble, I think I could go to him and have a real discussion about it, which is a nice feeling. Not sure how he's doing since the trouble during weyrlinghood, though.

* '''[[N'ky]]''': He started out so well, then crashed, big time. Been trying to help, but it feels like he doesn't want it. Doesn't want ''anything'', except to hide away with Cailluneth. Hoping things will improve again, now we're out of weyrlinghood.

* '''[[Sabella]]''': She's been a steady influence throughout weyrlinghood, and it was excellent that we got to work together not once but twice in wing leadership. I'm pretty pleased we'll be able to continue working together as full riders.

* '''[[Telavi]]''': An excellent drinking partner, and not in the "numb in the face" sort of way. She seems really genuine, which is always refreshing.

== RP Logs ==

Most recent logs shown only. The full list is available [[D'kan/Logs|here]], and the full list of mentions is [[D'kan/Mentions|here]].

{{ RP Logs Short | name = D'kan | columns = 3 }}

== Soundtrack ==
{|style="width: 100%;"
|-valign="top"
|style="width: 50%;"|
'''D'kan'''

* [http://youtu.be/CKcZsBLS17U Blue Rodeo - Til I Am Myself Again]
:''I don't need a doctor to figure it out
:''I know what's passing me by
:''When I look in the mirror
:''Sometimes I see traces of some other guy

|
'''D'kan and Kazavoth'''

* [http://youtu.be/w3AmY5HXzgA Barenaked Ladies - Call and Answer]
:''If you call, I will answer
:''and if you fall, I'll pick you up
:''and if you court this disaster
:''I'll point you home
|}

== Miscellaneous ==

Something to explain D'kan and Kazavoth: [https://scontent-a-lax.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/q83/s720x720/1394003_10151764856088581_186274285_n.jpg link]

*

From [http://www.easydamus.com/character.html What Kind of D&D Character Would You Be?]

'''D'kan is a:''' Neutral Good Human Sorcerer (3rd Level)

<ins>Alignment:</ins> '''Neutral Good''' A neutral good character does the best that a good person can do. He is devoted to helping others. He works with kings and magistrates but does not feel beholden to them. Neutral good is the best alignment you can be because it means doing what is good without bias for or against order. However, neutral good can be a dangerous alignment when it advances mediocrity by limiting the actions of the truly capable.

<ins>Race:</ins> '''Humans''' are the most adaptable of the common races. Short generations and a penchant for migration and conquest have made them physically diverse as well. Humans are often unorthodox in their dress, sporting unusual hairstyles, fanciful clothes, tattoos, and the like.

<ins>Class:</ins> '''Sorcerers''' are arcane spellcasters who manipulate magic energy with imagination and talent rather than studious discipline. They have no books, no mentors, no theories just raw power that they direct at will. Sorcerers know fewer spells than wizards do and acquire them more slowly, but they can cast individual spells more often and have no need to prepare their incantations ahead of time. Also unlike wizards, sorcerers cannot specialize in a school of magic. Since sorcerers gain their powers without undergoing the years of rigorous study that wizards go through, they have more time to learn fighting skills and are proficient with simple weapons. Charisma is very important for sorcerers; the higher their value in this ability, the higher the spell level they can cast.

'''Kazavoth is a:''' Neutral Good Human Bard

<ins>Class:</ins> '''Bards''' often serve as negotiators, messengers, scouts, and spies. They love to accompany heroes (and villains) to witness heroic (or villainous) deeds firsthand, since a bard who can tell a story from personal experience earns renown among his fellows. A bard casts arcane spells without any advance preparation, much like a sorcerer. Bards also share some specialized skills with rogues, and their knowledge of item lore is nearly unmatched. A high Charisma score allows a bard to cast high-level spells.

* The play-by's [http://vimeo.com/67537535 demo reel].

{{Icons}}

{{HRW}}

[[category:High Reaches Weyr]]
[[category:High Reaches Area]]
[[category:High Reaches Hold]]
[[category:Greater Pern]]
[[category:Riders]]
[[category:Brownriders]]
[[category:Inactive_Characters]]

D'kan

2014-03-13T19:37:17Z

D'kan: /* History */

{{HrwProfile
|picture=D'kan.jpg
|position=Wingrider
|dragon=[Dragon:Empires_And_Excess_Brown_Kazavoth]
|craft=
|birthplace=High Reaches Hold
|mother=Dydael
|father=Korlen
|siblings=None
|children=
|friends=
|playedby=[http://justinrain.com/ Justin Rain]
|livejournal=}}

== Description ==

Raven black hair and eyes nearly as dark stand out against D'kan's medium skin tones. He normally keeps his thick hair cut close, but when it gets a little long, it starts to take on a full and messy look. His high cheekbones lend to the almond shape of his eyes and can occasionally give his cheeks a slightly gaunt look. His slightly pointed chin and wide mouth give his face a mildly inverted triangle shape. A narrow and slightly upturned nose combine with small ears to give the young man a slightly impish cast, especially when he smiles.

D'kan's height seems to have settled just shy of six feet. He might have started out lanky, but he's started to fill out in recent turns, aided in development and toning by good old-fashioned manual labor, also evidenced in the thick callouses on his hands. His shoulders have started to take on a broad, rounded look, but the rest of his frame has remained long and lean.

== WYSK ==
* D'kan started as Kaeden, a dock worker from High Reaches Hold.

* He came to the Weyr sometime shortly before Turnover, Turn 30, ostensibly to ensure some precious cargo made it safely from the Hold to the Weyr.

* He was asked by Azaylia to Stand for the combined clutches of Hraedhyth and Iesaryth. (D7 M1 T31 I10)

* D'kan impressed to Empires And Excess Brown Kazavoth of High Reaches Weyr. (D1 M4 T31 I10)

* He was tapped into Glacier by Jo following graduation. (D15 M4 T32 I10)

== History ==
Kaeden spent all his life around High Reaches Hold, right up until he left for the Weyr. He is an only child of a fairly nondescript set of parents. His mother works in the laundry, his father is just a general handyman/worker. Not quite drudge levels, but not all that far above, either. As Kaeden got older, he started to develop into a fairly outgoing kid. He had no issues talking to perfect strangers, but more than that, he had a knack for getting perfect strangers to talk to ''him''. He also found that his parents' work was beyond dull, so he started reaching out for something more interesting.

When Kaeden was a young teen, he started working on the Hold's docks. At first, he simply helped load and unload the ships and wagons as needed, but as he became more familiar with the work, he started helping out in some of the administrative tasks, too, like coordinating schedules, working with trader caravans, and organizing work crews. By the time he'd reached his later teens, he wasn't exactly second-in-command of the docks, but he was definitely becoming someone the dockmaster started to look to when something needed to be not just done, but done correctly and quickly.

When the divided leadership issues began to develop up at the Weyr, Kaeden's boss asked him to go... check it out, to put it nicely -- spy, less so. Itching for a change of pace (not to mention something to do that felt ''important''), Kaeden went, arriving just in time for the Turnover party at the end of Turn 30. His cover story was that he'd come along with a shipment to see to its safety personally, then he just happened to stay for the party. Afterward, he was dragging his feet about finding a way back to the Hold when Azaylia asked him to stand. Well, he couldn't say no to ''that'', now could he?

Just under three months later, Kazavoth found him near the end of the hatching. After weyrlinghood, the two of them joined Glacier Wing, and building on skills discovered during Kazavoth's development, they began taking on extra transport duties. This eventually evolved into a mildly lucrative side business, as Kazavoth seemed particularly adept at moving the heavier, bulkier loads. With growing ties to the Miner and Smith crafts, the two of them transferred to Telgar Weyr, to work more directly with the Smiths on day 26, month 3, turn 34 of Interval 10.

== Relationships ==

* '''[[Aishani]]''': Everything changes, given enough time. What's changed there?

* '''[[Alida]]''': First weyrlings together, now wingmates. We've had some rare and deep discussions. Doesn't show her vulnerabilities often, which makes it that much more startling when she does.

* '''[[Azaylia]]''': She was given the captain's knot in the middle of a stormy night. One the one hand, I can't blame her for wanting to get her bearings before filling the sails. On the other hand, I kind of just want to get to shore already. At least we're moving again.

* '''[[C'wlin]]''': Things got weird after he and N'hax were bumped back to the barracks. Keep wondering how he's doing. Gotta do something about that.

* '''[[E'sren]]''': Now that weyrlinghood is over, I think I better understand why he went for all that extra hidework and studying. I hope he's good for Sabella.

* '''[[Hana]]''': I grew up with Hana back at High Reaches Hold. We learned to dance together as kids, then went our separate ways when it came time to start working for our keep. If there's a toss dance, and she's there, I'm in. It's been really nice to have a familiar face around sometimes drastically unfamiliar environments. We drifted once I got caught up in weyrlinghood, but it's time to mend that.

* '''[[Jo]]''': She was just kidding about shanking... right? Not entirely sure I want to find out, but it seems like a good thing being on the same team.

* '''J'tor''' (NPC): Fellow brownriding weyrling, whom I tapped to be Sabella's backup wingsecond that one month. Why? Dunno. Kaz and I both like Adrovanth, and J'tor's just a kid, so he was a safe choice. It was a weird decision to have to make so early into things.

* '''[[K'zin]]''': I know more about him from other people than from K'zin himself, as we've tended toward different circles since candidacy.

* '''[[N'hax]]''': If I ever ran into some serious trouble, I think I could go to him and have a real discussion about it, which is a nice feeling. Not sure how he's doing since the trouble during weyrlinghood, though.

* '''[[N'ky]]''': He started out so well, then crashed, big time. Been trying to help, but it feels like he doesn't want it. Doesn't want ''anything'', except to hide away with Cailluneth. Hoping things will improve again, now we're out of weyrlinghood.

* '''[[Sabella]]''': She's been a steady influence throughout weyrlinghood, and it was excellent that we got to work together not once but twice in wing leadership. I'm pretty pleased we'll be able to continue working together as full riders.

* '''[[Telavi]]''': An excellent drinking partner, and not in the "numb in the face" sort of way. She seems really genuine, which is always refreshing.

== RP Logs ==

Most recent logs shown only. The full list is available [[D'kan/Logs|here]], and the full list of mentions is [[D'kan/Mentions|here]].

{{ RP Logs Short | name = D'kan | columns = 3 }}

== Soundtrack ==
{|style="width: 100%;"
|-valign="top"
|style="width: 50%;"|
'''D'kan'''

* [http://youtu.be/CKcZsBLS17U Blue Rodeo - Til I Am Myself Again]
:''I don't need a doctor to figure it out
:''I know what's passing me by
:''When I look in the mirror
:''Sometimes I see traces of some other guy

|
'''D'kan and Kazavoth'''

* [http://youtu.be/w3AmY5HXzgA Barenaked Ladies - Call and Answer]
:''If you call, I will answer
:''and if you fall, I'll pick you up
:''and if you court this disaster
:''I'll point you home
|}

== Miscellaneous ==

Something to explain D'kan and Kazavoth: [https://scontent-a-lax.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/q83/s720x720/1394003_10151764856088581_186274285_n.jpg link]

*

From [http://www.easydamus.com/character.html What Kind of D&D Character Would You Be?]

'''D'kan is a:''' Neutral Good Human Sorcerer (3rd Level)

<ins>Alignment:</ins> '''Neutral Good''' A neutral good character does the best that a good person can do. He is devoted to helping others. He works with kings and magistrates but does not feel beholden to them. Neutral good is the best alignment you can be because it means doing what is good without bias for or against order. However, neutral good can be a dangerous alignment when it advances mediocrity by limiting the actions of the truly capable.

<ins>Race:</ins> '''Humans''' are the most adaptable of the common races. Short generations and a penchant for migration and conquest have made them physically diverse as well. Humans are often unorthodox in their dress, sporting unusual hairstyles, fanciful clothes, tattoos, and the like.

<ins>Class:</ins> '''Sorcerers''' are arcane spellcasters who manipulate magic energy with imagination and talent rather than studious discipline. They have no books, no mentors, no theories just raw power that they direct at will. Sorcerers know fewer spells than wizards do and acquire them more slowly, but they can cast individual spells more often and have no need to prepare their incantations ahead of time. Also unlike wizards, sorcerers cannot specialize in a school of magic. Since sorcerers gain their powers without undergoing the years of rigorous study that wizards go through, they have more time to learn fighting skills and are proficient with simple weapons. Charisma is very important for sorcerers; the higher their value in this ability, the higher the spell level they can cast.

'''Kazavoth is a:''' Neutral Good Human Bard

<ins>Class:</ins> '''Bards''' often serve as negotiators, messengers, scouts, and spies. They love to accompany heroes (and villains) to witness heroic (or villainous) deeds firsthand, since a bard who can tell a story from personal experience earns renown among his fellows. A bard casts arcane spells without any advance preparation, much like a sorcerer. Bards also share some specialized skills with rogues, and their knowledge of item lore is nearly unmatched. A high Charisma score allows a bard to cast high-level spells.

* The play-by's [http://vimeo.com/67537535 demo reel].

{{Icons}}

{{HRW}}

[[category:Characters]]
[[category:High Reaches Weyr]]
[[category:High Reaches Area]]
[[category:High Reaches Hold]]
[[category:Greater Pern]]
[[category:Riders]]
[[category:Brownriders]]
[[category:Glacier Wing]]

Logs:Beer, Babes and Bones

2014-01-13T06:21:17Z

D'kan:

{{ Log
| who = Barnabas, D'kan
| where = Garden Patio Ledge, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Just two guys, chatting on the patio with their respective drinks in hand. Or on the floor. Maybe.
| when = Day 14, Month 10, Turn 33
| gamedate = 2014.01.12
| quote = "No idea is exactly how much idea I like having."
| weather = A lovely, cloudless day turns distinctly chilly after dark.
| categories = General
| mentions =
| ooc =
| icons = barnabas areyouserious.jpg, d'kan sure.jpg
| log = :''Garden Patio Ledge, High Reaches Weyr

:''Partly sheltered by the curving stone overhang, partly exposed to the weather, the wide stone patio serves as a balcony for socializing or just plain drinking on a sizable scale. The repurposed ledge might once have let two large dragons land, but now there's too much furniture for that: two rustic tables with attendant chairs, plus a couple more in particularly good weather, and a wrought iron bench situated to make the most of the view of the western bowl and the lake beyond.

:''Other changes include rough little niches carved out of the stone walls to hold glows in colored bottles at night, the climbing plant that's being trained to grow up along the overhang, and the blue ceramic pots of flowers that dot the edge of the ledge as a colorful reminder not to fall off.

:''An archway leads to the Snowasis itself, housed in the ledge's former weyr, while a few wide steps descend along the wall to the bowl.

-----------

The pile of furs near the patio's edge has traits that most piles of fur don't. For the first, it grumbles to itself about the cold with steamy breath. "Fuckin' cold. Alright, here we go. Warm, sandy beaches. Warm, sandy beaches." A mantra clearly repeated for some sort of psychological benefit, though it doesn't seem to be doing as much as good as the thick furs he wears, or the steaming mug of klah that Bones' brings to his lips every so often. "Mmph, pair of tits in my face on warm, sandy beaches." If he's going to fantasize about being somewhere else, might as well go all out.

D'kan has been up in that clear autumn wind too much today to be overly bothered by the evening's chill, though he does wear his riding jacket. He also flags down one of the Snowasis servers as soon as he comes up the steps to the patio. Because liquor helps. He starts to take a seat at the table next to that pile of fur, but Bones' words stop him short, and he laughs. "That does sound nice, but I don't think saying it will make it true." Spoil sport.

"You don't think eh? Well damn. Here I thought I was bein' productive. Good thing there's fuckin' brainiacs like you to set me straight, or I'd be lost." Grumpy, though judging from the sound he makes after his next sip of klah, quickly improving. "Just tryin' to get myself used to the damn cold. It occurs to me I been here way too long to still be such a 'lil girl about it. If you don't got the tits and you ain't a beach, yer welcome to shut yer mouth."

"I work very hard at keeping both tits and beaches at bay," D'kan drawls in return. He's then distracted as the server comes over. "Oy. Bones. Split a pitcher?" he asks, making the server wait. In this delightfully chilly autumn weather, with its lack of beaches, babes and so far, booze.

Finally turning from his almost pensive stance looking out over the edge, Bones sizes up D'kan with an arched eyebrow almost hidden underneath his messy bangs. "It ain't never come up before?" He sits at the table with a heavy thumping sound, partially created by the weight of his coat at the floor, and partially just because of how heavily he sets himself in the seat. "I don't drink. Unless maybe you already knew that shit and you're just tryin' to get me to go halvsies on your personal blackout, eh?" He shoots out a smirk and a playful punch to D'kan's arm.

"Fair enough," D'kan replies before requesting a pint of ale for himself. He turns back to Bones after the server heads back into the tavern. "It's still good manners to ask, right?" he adds with a crooked grin as he leans back in the chair and glances out at the bowl. He stretches out his legs and leans back, content for a while to let silence reign. Eventually, though, he glances at Bones again and says, "So. How does your garden grow? Or are you tired of that line?"

Bones is nothing but stillness and klah slurping, content with the quiet. Judging by the small contented smile on his face, there still might be sandy beach cleavage on his mind. "... What?" The question shakes him from his daydreams, but he doesn't quite get the expression. "Y'mean... oh, yeah. The plants ain't dead. Heh, I ain't actually heard that one before. What about you eh? What's up with uhh... dragons." Clearly not so versed on what dragonriders do all day.

D'kan gives Bones a slightly slanted, amused smile. "Not dead is good," he replies, turning away for a moment as the server brings his requested ale. A moment later, he glances at the other guy again. "Oh, just keeping busy, mostly. Kazavoth and I have our little side business, which ... pretty much just consists of hauling heavy things. Almost like what I did on 'Reaches docks, in a way, just... with a dragon instead of ships." He sips his ale, mulls over the taste for a moment, then leans back in his chair with the pint balanced on his knee. "Keeping out of trouble. Which I can't say for everyone around here."

"I'll take a ship. Ship can't hear your thoughts. Or eat you. Or eat somebody else. Or get into your thoughts and make YOU eat someone else." Bones brings the klah to his lips to take another sip, only to find that there's none left. Quickly realizing this, he tries to flag down the server before they disappear back inside, but fails. "Yo miss! Miss?!" He slumps at seeing them slip back inside without having caught them. "I missed. Hehe, get it?" Even with his shoulders lowered, he smiles at at his own joke. "Because I said it a few times so it's like, past tense of miss, but then also... nah, nevermind, you got it. S'just more clever than my usual jokes, ha!" He sets his mug to the table and idly spins it in place with a flick of his finger on the handle, it briefly spinning like a top before settling back. "And whaddya mean can't say that for everyone. You got some juicy dragon gossip you holdin' on to?"

D'kan snorts out a quiet laugh. Yeah, he got it, and he lifts his glass toward Bones in appreciation before taking a long pull of the ale. "Not all that juicy, no," he answers while watching the spinning mug. "Just--." He cuts himself off, though, and glances toward the bowl again. "Disappointing." After another drink of ale, he sets his glass on the table and turns back to Bones. "I know I should know better by now. Been at the Weyr a few Turns now and all that. But growing up at the Hold, there were always those people who were so into the rider stories. Big damn heroes, and all that bull. And the bronze riders. Yeah, they're just the ''shit'', right?" He snorts again, though this time it's not a laugh. "Some mornings I wake up, and I'm pleased as punch that Kaz's hide is brown, because that means I won't get lumped into the sorriest bronzeriding group on the sharding planet."

Bones puts on big face of mock shock at D'kan's words of criticism, even going so far as to put one big calloused hand on his chest as if he were about to have a fainting spell. "Well I'll have you know that I kinda sorta knew a bronzerider this one time, so I'm ''deeply'' offended." He chuckles to himself, dropping the charade as soon as the words are out of him. Both hands go to his mug again, setting its rim at an angle and then flicking it once again to see how long he can make it spin without slipping off the edge. His tongue briefly snakes its way out of his mouth as he concentrates, but the conversation is kept moving. "No offense to your dragon there, but I don't see what the big deal is. Met plenty of pricks with dragons, and just as many good people without. Far as I can tell, them hatchlings just go googley eyed over the first fucker that smells right." The cup spins steadily for a time before finding a path straight off the edge of the table, and Bones catches it before it plummets too far. He's almost immediately right back to setting up the next spin. "And then on top of that, the ''color'' matters? Pfft, whatever."

"No offense taken," D'kan replies with a shrug, "'cause that's exactly what I'm saying. It's all just this weird romanticized crap." He turns his pint glass on the table a couple times, watching the liquid's slow slosh. "It just bugs me. Still." He scowls at the table, then lifts the ale for another long drink before he turns back to Bones. "Anyway... nothing came of it. This time." Another drink, then the pint glass is returned to the table. "Anything new around here? Kaz and I spend more time out of the Weyr than in lately. No idea what's going on anymore."

"No idea is exactly how much idea I like having." The next spin of the cup sends it teetering off the edge, only this time Bones' attempt to catch it goes wrong. It slips from his fingers and hits the stone below with a quiet but familiar sounding crash. Bones is left staring down at the pieces of his mug for a few seconds before putting both of his hands flat to the table and looking directly at D'kan. "See. How did that mug just break? I have no-" He pauses to shuffle his boot under the table, kicking the pieces up underneath it and mostly out of sight. "No idea! And ''because'' I have no idea how it broke, nobody can blame me for breakin' it, right?"

"Right," D'kan is happy to agree. And when one of the servers comes out of the tavern, possibly drawn by that crash, D'kan simply smiles up at her, then goes back to sipping his ale. Well... "sipping" isn't quite accurate, since it's quickly disappearing. "I think my friend here was wanting klah," the brownrider drawls quietly, his focus all too innocently on the far wall of the bowl.

A big smile is put on for the server, fingers idly tapping across the surface of the table. "I uhh... I broke a mug. It's under the table." There's the usual bit of banter from the server, along with the usual face of annoyance that is only about seventy percent hidden. It's quite alright, happens all the time, blah blah blah, I'll be back with your new mug of klah. When she slips away, Bones turns back to D'kan, fingers still tapping. "What? I woulda felt bad. I ain't got ''everything'' figured out, okay? Get off my back, dock dick." Another grin forms. "C'mon, I'll get you pitcher number two if you cover the klah. Deal?"

D'kan tosses back the last of his beer and gets to his feet while clapping Bones on the shoulder. "Another time. I'd be happy to cover the klah, though." He glances back toward the tavern, waiting for the server to reappear with the new mug before he announces, "I'm covering this furry bum's tab. You know I'm good for it." He gives her a wink, then grins at Bones. "If Kazavoth and I didn't need to be in Crom first thing tomorrow, I'd take you up on that pitcher. Maybe next time." He leaves it at that, heading down to the bowl to meet his lifemate.

{{#ifexist: Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}} | <hr><hr><br><h2>Comments</h2>{{Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}}}} |<hr><hr>}}

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<comments />

Logs:Beer, Babes and Bones

2014-01-13T06:20:22Z

D'kan: Created page with "{{ Log | who = Bones, D'kan | where = Garden Patio Ledge, High Reaches Weyr | what = Just two guys, chatting on the patio with their respective drinks in hand. Or on the floo..."

{{ Log
| who = Bones, D'kan
| where = Garden Patio Ledge, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Just two guys, chatting on the patio with their respective drinks in hand. Or on the floor. Maybe.
| when = Day 14, Month 10, Turn 33
| gamedate = 2014.01.12
| quote = "No idea is exactly how much idea I like having."
| weather = A lovely, cloudless day turns distinctly chilly after dark.
| categories = General
| mentions =
| ooc =
| icons = d'kan sure.jpg, barnabas areyouserious.jpg
| log = :''Garden Patio Ledge, High Reaches Weyr

:''Partly sheltered by the curving stone overhang, partly exposed to the weather, the wide stone patio serves as a balcony for socializing or just plain drinking on a sizable scale. The repurposed ledge might once have let two large dragons land, but now there's too much furniture for that: two rustic tables with attendant chairs, plus a couple more in particularly good weather, and a wrought iron bench situated to make the most of the view of the western bowl and the lake beyond.

:''Other changes include rough little niches carved out of the stone walls to hold glows in colored bottles at night, the climbing plant that's being trained to grow up along the overhang, and the blue ceramic pots of flowers that dot the edge of the ledge as a colorful reminder not to fall off.

:''An archway leads to the Snowasis itself, housed in the ledge's former weyr, while a few wide steps descend along the wall to the bowl.

-----------

The pile of furs near the patio's edge has traits that most piles of fur don't. For the first, it grumbles to itself about the cold with steamy breath. "Fuckin' cold. Alright, here we go. Warm, sandy beaches. Warm, sandy beaches." A mantra clearly repeated for some sort of psychological benefit, though it doesn't seem to be doing as much as good as the thick furs he wears, or the steaming mug of klah that Bones' brings to his lips every so often. "Mmph, pair of tits in my face on warm, sandy beaches." If he's going to fantasize about being somewhere else, might as well go all out.

D'kan has been up in that clear autumn wind too much today to be overly bothered by the evening's chill, though he does wear his riding jacket. He also flags down one of the Snowasis servers as soon as he comes up the steps to the patio. Because liquor helps. He starts to take a seat at the table next to that pile of fur, but Bones' words stop him short, and he laughs. "That does sound nice, but I don't think saying it will make it true." Spoil sport.

"You don't think eh? Well damn. Here I thought I was bein' productive. Good thing there's fuckin' brainiacs like you to set me straight, or I'd be lost." Grumpy, though judging from the sound he makes after his next sip of klah, quickly improving. "Just tryin' to get myself used to the damn cold. It occurs to me I been here way too long to still be such a 'lil girl about it. If you don't got the tits and you ain't a beach, yer welcome to shut yer mouth."

"I work very hard at keeping both tits and beaches at bay," D'kan drawls in return. He's then distracted as the server comes over. "Oy. Bones. Split a pitcher?" he asks, making the server wait. In this delightfully chilly autumn weather, with its lack of beaches, babes and so far, booze.

Finally turning from his almost pensive stance looking out over the edge, Bones sizes up D'kan with an arched eyebrow almost hidden underneath his messy bangs. "It ain't never come up before?" He sits at the table with a heavy thumping sound, partially created by the weight of his coat at the floor, and partially just because of how heavily he sets himself in the seat. "I don't drink. Unless maybe you already knew that shit and you're just tryin' to get me to go halvsies on your personal blackout, eh?" He shoots out a smirk and a playful punch to D'kan's arm.

"Fair enough," D'kan replies before requesting a pint of ale for himself. He turns back to Bones after the server heads back into the tavern. "It's still good manners to ask, right?" he adds with a crooked grin as he leans back in the chair and glances out at the bowl. He stretches out his legs and leans back, content for a while to let silence reign. Eventually, though, he glances at Bones again and says, "So. How does your garden grow? Or are you tired of that line?"

Bones is nothing but stillness and klah slurping, content with the quiet. Judging by the small contented smile on his face, there still might be sandy beach cleavage on his mind. "... What?" The question shakes him from his daydreams, but he doesn't quite get the expression. "Y'mean... oh, yeah. The plants ain't dead. Heh, I ain't actually heard that one before. What about you eh? What's up with uhh... dragons." Clearly not so versed on what dragonriders do all day.

D'kan gives Bones a slightly slanted, amused smile. "Not dead is good," he replies, turning away for a moment as the server brings his requested ale. A moment later, he glances at the other guy again. "Oh, just keeping busy, mostly. Kazavoth and I have our little side business, which ... pretty much just consists of hauling heavy things. Almost like what I did on 'Reaches docks, in a way, just... with a dragon instead of ships." He sips his ale, mulls over the taste for a moment, then leans back in his chair with the pint balanced on his knee. "Keeping out of trouble. Which I can't say for everyone around here."

"I'll take a ship. Ship can't hear your thoughts. Or eat you. Or eat somebody else. Or get into your thoughts and make YOU eat someone else." Bones brings the klah to his lips to take another sip, only to find that there's none left. Quickly realizing this, he tries to flag down the server before they disappear back inside, but fails. "Yo miss! Miss?!" He slumps at seeing them slip back inside without having caught them. "I missed. Hehe, get it?" Even with his shoulders lowered, he smiles at at his own joke. "Because I said it a few times so it's like, past tense of miss, but then also... nah, nevermind, you got it. S'just more clever than my usual jokes, ha!" He sets his mug to the table and idly spins it in place with a flick of his finger on the handle, it briefly spinning like a top before settling back. "And whaddya mean can't say that for everyone. You got some juicy dragon gossip you holdin' on to?"

D'kan snorts out a quiet laugh. Yeah, he got it, and he lifts his glass toward Bones in appreciation before taking a long pull of the ale. "Not all that juicy, no," he answers while watching the spinning mug. "Just--." He cuts himself off, though, and glances toward the bowl again. "Disappointing." After another drink of ale, he sets his glass on the table and turns back to Bones. "I know I should know better by now. Been at the Weyr a few Turns now and all that. But growing up at the Hold, there were always those people who were so into the rider stories. Big damn heroes, and all that bull. And the bronze riders. Yeah, they're just the ''shit'', right?" He snorts again, though this time it's not a laugh. "Some mornings I wake up, and I'm pleased as punch that Kaz's hide is brown, because that means I won't get lumped into the sorriest bronzeriding group on the sharding planet."

Bones puts on big face of mock shock at D'kan's words of criticism, even going so far as to put one big calloused hand on his chest as if he were about to have a fainting spell. "Well I'll have you know that I kinda sorta knew a bronzerider this one time, so I'm ''deeply'' offended." He chuckles to himself, dropping the charade as soon as the words are out of him. Both hands go to his mug again, setting its rim at an angle and then flicking it once again to see how long he can make it spin without slipping off the edge. His tongue briefly snakes its way out of his mouth as he concentrates, but the conversation is kept moving. "No offense to your dragon there, but I don't see what the big deal is. Met plenty of pricks with dragons, and just as many good people without. Far as I can tell, them hatchlings just go googley eyed over the first fucker that smells right." The cup spins steadily for a time before finding a path straight off the edge of the table, and Bones catches it before it plummets too far. He's almost immediately right back to setting up the next spin. "And then on top of that, the ''color'' matters? Pfft, whatever."

"No offense taken," D'kan replies with a shrug, "'cause that's exactly what I'm saying. It's all just this weird romanticized crap." He turns his pint glass on the table a couple times, watching the liquid's slow slosh. "It just bugs me. Still." He scowls at the table, then lifts the ale for another long drink before he turns back to Bones. "Anyway... nothing came of it. This time." Another drink, then the pint glass is returned to the table. "Anything new around here? Kaz and I spend more time out of the Weyr than in lately. No idea what's going on anymore."

"No idea is exactly how much idea I like having." The next spin of the cup sends it teetering off the edge, only this time Bones' attempt to catch it goes wrong. It slips from his fingers and hits the stone below with a quiet but familiar sounding crash. Bones is left staring down at the pieces of his mug for a few seconds before putting both of his hands flat to the table and looking directly at D'kan. "See. How did that mug just break? I have no-" He pauses to shuffle his boot under the table, kicking the pieces up underneath it and mostly out of sight. "No idea! And ''because'' I have no idea how it broke, nobody can blame me for breakin' it, right?"

"Right," D'kan is happy to agree. And when one of the servers comes out of the tavern, possibly drawn by that crash, D'kan simply smiles up at her, then goes back to sipping his ale. Well... "sipping" isn't quite accurate, since it's quickly disappearing. "I think my friend here was wanting klah," the brownrider drawls quietly, his focus all too innocently on the far wall of the bowl.

A big smile is put on for the server, fingers idly tapping across the surface of the table. "I uhh... I broke a mug. It's under the table." There's the usual bit of banter from the server, along with the usual face of annoyance that is only about seventy percent hidden. It's quite alright, happens all the time, blah blah blah, I'll be back with your new mug of klah. When she slips away, Bones turns back to D'kan, fingers still tapping. "What? I woulda felt bad. I ain't got ''everything'' figured out, okay? Get off my back, dock dick." Another grin forms. "C'mon, I'll get you pitcher number two if you cover the klah. Deal?"

D'kan tosses back the last of his beer and gets to his feet while clapping Bones on the shoulder. "Another time. I'd be happy to cover the klah, though." He glances back toward the tavern, waiting for the server to reappear with the new mug before he announces, "I'm covering this furry bum's tab. You know I'm good for it." He gives her a wink, then grins at Bones. "If Kazavoth and I didn't need to be in Crom first thing tomorrow, I'd take you up on that pitcher. Maybe next time." He leaves it at that, heading down to the bowl to meet his lifemate.

{{#ifexist: Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}} | <hr><hr><br><h2>Comments</h2>{{Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}}}} |<hr><hr>}}

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Logs talk:Composure

2013-12-01T04:40:45Z

D'kan: Comment provided by D'kan - via ArticleComments extension

<noinclude>Comments on "[[Logs:Composure]]"
----- __NOEDITSECTION__</noinclude>

[[Varied/Comments|Varied]] ([[User:Varied|Varied]] ([[User talk:Varied|talk]])) left a comment on Tue, 26 Nov 2013 17:44:45 GMT.

<comment date="2013-11-26T17:44:45Z" name="Varied" signature="[[User:Varied|Varied]] ([[User talk:Varied|talk]])">
It ''is'' Vignette Weekend. With Extra Bonus Material.

Hraedhyth savage, Azaylia mild (yet with the transition to 'the Weyrwoman'), all fun!
</comment>
[[D'kan/Comments|D'kan]] ([[User:D'kan|D'kan]] ([[User talk:D'kan|talk]])) left a comment on Sun, 01 Dec 2013 04:40:45 GMT.

<comment date="2013-12-01T04:40:45Z" name="D'kan" signature="[[User:D&#39;kan|D&#39;kan]] ([[User talk:D&#39;kan|talk]])">
(As I painfully slowly catch up...) I really enjoyed the contrast here. Hraedhyth's righteous zeal and fury. Azaylia's colder calculation. The top of the ladder means a chilling draft that she seems to be embracing. It certainly beats freezing to death.
</comment>

D'kan

2013-11-07T05:18:24Z

D'kan: /* Miscellaneous */

{{HrwProfile
|picture=D'kan.jpg
|position=Wingrider
|dragon=[Dragon:Empires_And_Excess_Brown_Kazavoth]
|craft=
|birthplace=High Reaches Hold
|mother=Dydael
|father=Korlen
|siblings=None
|children=
|friends=
|playedby=[http://justinrain.com/ Justin Rain]
|livejournal=}}

== Description ==

Raven black hair and eyes nearly as dark stand out against D'kan's medium skin tones. He normally keeps his thick hair cut close, but when it gets a little long, it starts to take on a full and messy look. His high cheekbones lend to the almond shape of his eyes and can occasionally give his cheeks a slightly gaunt look. His slightly pointed chin and wide mouth give his face a mildly inverted triangle shape. A narrow and slightly upturned nose combine with small ears to give the young man a slightly impish cast, especially when he smiles.

D'kan's height seems to have settled just shy of six feet. He might have started out lanky, but he's started to fill out in recent turns, aided in development and toning by good old-fashioned manual labor, also evidenced in the thick callouses on his hands. His shoulders have started to take on a broad, rounded look, but the rest of his frame has remained long and lean.

== WYSK ==
* D'kan started as Kaeden, a dock worker from High Reaches Hold.

* He came to the Weyr sometime shortly before Turnover, Turn 30, ostensibly to ensure some precious cargo made it safely from the Hold to the Weyr.

* He was asked by Azaylia to Stand for the combined clutches of Hraedhyth and Iesaryth. (D7 M1 T31 I10)

* D'kan impressed to Empires And Excess Brown Kazavoth of High Reaches Weyr. (D1 M4 T31 I10)

* He was tapped into Glacier by Jo following graduation. (D15 M4 T32 I10)

== History ==
Kaeden spent all his life around High Reaches Hold, right up until he left for the Weyr. He is an only child of a fairly nondescript set of parents. His mother works in the laundry, his father is just a general handyman/worker. Not quite drudge levels, but not all that far above, either. As Kaeden got older, he started to develop into a fairly outgoing kid. He had no issues talking to perfect strangers, but more than that, he had a knack for getting perfect strangers to talk to ''him''. He also found that his parents' work was beyond dull, so he started reaching out for something more interesting.

When Kaeden was a young teen, he started working on the Hold's docks. At first, he simply helped load and unload the ships and wagons as needed, but as he became more familiar with the work, he started helping out in some of the administrative tasks, too, like coordinating schedules, working with trader caravans, and organizing work crews. By the time he'd reached his later teens, he wasn't exactly second-in-command of the docks, but he was definitely becoming someone the dockmaster started to look to when something needed to be not just done, but done correctly and quickly.

When the divided leadership issues began to develop up at the Weyr, Kaeden's boss asked him to go... check it out, to put it nicely -- spy, less so. Itching for a change of pace (not to mention something to do that felt ''important''), Kaeden went, arriving just in time for the Turnover party at the end of Turn 30. His cover story was that he'd come along with a shipment to see to its safety personally, then he just happened to stay for the party. Afterward, he was dragging his feet about finding a way back to the Hold when Azaylia asked him to stand. Well, he couldn't say no to ''that'', now could he?

Just under three months later, Kazavoth found him near the end of the hatching. The rest of the story is still developing.

== Relationships ==

* '''[[Aishani]]''': Everything changes, given enough time. What's changed there?

* '''[[Alida]]''': First weyrlings together, now wingmates. We've had some rare and deep discussions. Doesn't show her vulnerabilities often, which makes it that much more startling when she does.

* '''[[Azaylia]]''': She was given the captain's knot in the middle of a stormy night. One the one hand, I can't blame her for wanting to get her bearings before filling the sails. On the other hand, I kind of just want to get to shore already. At least we're moving again.

* '''[[C'wlin]]''': Things got weird after he and N'hax were bumped back to the barracks. Keep wondering how he's doing. Gotta do something about that.

* '''[[E'sren]]''': Now that weyrlinghood is over, I think I better understand why he went for all that extra hidework and studying. I hope he's good for Sabella.

* '''[[Hana]]''': I grew up with Hana back at High Reaches Hold. We learned to dance together as kids, then went our separate ways when it came time to start working for our keep. If there's a toss dance, and she's there, I'm in. It's been really nice to have a familiar face around sometimes drastically unfamiliar environments. We drifted once I got caught up in weyrlinghood, but it's time to mend that.

* '''[[Jo]]''': She was just kidding about shanking... right? Not entirely sure I want to find out, but it seems like a good thing being on the same team.

* '''J'tor''' (NPC): Fellow brownriding weyrling, whom I tapped to be Sabella's backup wingsecond that one month. Why? Dunno. Kaz and I both like Adrovanth, and J'tor's just a kid, so he was a safe choice. It was a weird decision to have to make so early into things.

* '''[[K'zin]]''': I know more about him from other people than from K'zin himself, as we've tended toward different circles since candidacy.

* '''[[N'hax]]''': If I ever ran into some serious trouble, I think I could go to him and have a real discussion about it, which is a nice feeling. Not sure how he's doing since the trouble during weyrlinghood, though.

* '''[[N'ky]]''': He started out so well, then crashed, big time. Been trying to help, but it feels like he doesn't want it. Doesn't want ''anything'', except to hide away with Cailluneth. Hoping things will improve again, now we're out of weyrlinghood.

* '''[[Sabella]]''': She's been a steady influence throughout weyrlinghood, and it was excellent that we got to work together not once but twice in wing leadership. I'm pretty pleased we'll be able to continue working together as full riders.

* '''[[Telavi]]''': An excellent drinking partner, and not in the "numb in the face" sort of way. She seems really genuine, which is always refreshing.

== RP Logs ==

Most recent logs shown only. The full list is available [[D'kan/Logs|here]], and the full list of mentions is [[D'kan/Mentions|here]].

{{ RP Logs Short | name = D'kan | columns = 3 }}

== Soundtrack ==
{|style="width: 100%;"
|-valign="top"
|style="width: 50%;"|
'''D'kan'''

* [http://youtu.be/CKcZsBLS17U Blue Rodeo - Til I Am Myself Again]
:''I don't need a doctor to figure it out
:''I know what's passing me by
:''When I look in the mirror
:''Sometimes I see traces of some other guy

|
'''D'kan and Kazavoth'''

* [http://youtu.be/w3AmY5HXzgA Barenaked Ladies - Call and Answer]
:''If you call, I will answer
:''and if you fall, I'll pick you up
:''and if you court this disaster
:''I'll point you home
|}

== Miscellaneous ==

Something to explain D'kan and Kazavoth: [https://scontent-a-lax.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/q83/s720x720/1394003_10151764856088581_186274285_n.jpg link]

*

From [http://www.easydamus.com/character.html What Kind of D&D Character Would You Be?]

'''D'kan is a:''' Neutral Good Human Sorcerer (3rd Level)

<ins>Alignment:</ins> '''Neutral Good''' A neutral good character does the best that a good person can do. He is devoted to helping others. He works with kings and magistrates but does not feel beholden to them. Neutral good is the best alignment you can be because it means doing what is good without bias for or against order. However, neutral good can be a dangerous alignment when it advances mediocrity by limiting the actions of the truly capable.

<ins>Race:</ins> '''Humans''' are the most adaptable of the common races. Short generations and a penchant for migration and conquest have made them physically diverse as well. Humans are often unorthodox in their dress, sporting unusual hairstyles, fanciful clothes, tattoos, and the like.

<ins>Class:</ins> '''Sorcerers''' are arcane spellcasters who manipulate magic energy with imagination and talent rather than studious discipline. They have no books, no mentors, no theories just raw power that they direct at will. Sorcerers know fewer spells than wizards do and acquire them more slowly, but they can cast individual spells more often and have no need to prepare their incantations ahead of time. Also unlike wizards, sorcerers cannot specialize in a school of magic. Since sorcerers gain their powers without undergoing the years of rigorous study that wizards go through, they have more time to learn fighting skills and are proficient with simple weapons. Charisma is very important for sorcerers; the higher their value in this ability, the higher the spell level they can cast.

'''Kazavoth is a:''' Neutral Good Human Bard

<ins>Class:</ins> '''Bards''' often serve as negotiators, messengers, scouts, and spies. They love to accompany heroes (and villains) to witness heroic (or villainous) deeds firsthand, since a bard who can tell a story from personal experience earns renown among his fellows. A bard casts arcane spells without any advance preparation, much like a sorcerer. Bards also share some specialized skills with rogues, and their knowledge of item lore is nearly unmatched. A high Charisma score allows a bard to cast high-level spells.

* The play-by's [http://vimeo.com/67537535 demo reel].

{{Icons}}

{{HRW}}

[[category:Characters]]
[[category:High Reaches Weyr]]
[[category:High Reaches Area]]
[[category:High Reaches Hold]]
[[category:Greater Pern]]
[[category:Riders]]
[[category:Brownriders]]
[[category:Glacier Wing]]

Logs:Comfort Bubbles

2013-09-16T21:20:23Z

D'kan: Created page with "{{ Log | who = D'kan, Hana | where = Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr | what = Hana shares the reasons for her procrastination. | when = Day 24, Month 10, Turn 32 | gamedate =..."

{{ Log
| who = D'kan, Hana
| where = Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Hana shares the reasons for her procrastination.
| when = Day 24, Month 10, Turn 32
| gamedate = 2013.09.16
| quote = "I'll be out of my comfortable area, and learning new things."
| weather = A layer of patch clouds covers the sky. The air feels cool and damp, but there is no rainfall today.
| categories = General
| mentions = Azaylia
| ooc =
| icons = d'kan.jpg, hana.jpg
| log = :''Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr

:''Stalactites hang high above this enormous cavern like a jagged chandelier or an inversion of the Spires themselves, but shadows cling to them instead of light. Below lie great tables arranged in rows, each large enough to serve a fighting wing, while in the nooks and alcoves around the cavern's edge sit more sensibly-sized tables, from six- and eight-seaters down to intimate spots for just a couple of diners. The only really open space is around the kitchen entrance, smelling of food and rarely quiet, and by the nearby serving tables with their long buffet of the day's offerings.

:''Tapestries on the smooth walls -- some faded and others newly woven -- only slightly mute the sea of sound when a meal is in full swing, but they add cheerfulness augmented by the glowlight from wall sconces and the centerpieces of each table. Still, shadows always creep along the ceiling and into the mouths of the exits -- the myriad small hallways at one end of the cavern and, at the other, the twisting tunnel to the bowl near an array of coathooks and and hatracks -- and late at night, when the glows are allowed to dim, the chamber can seem very dark indeed.

-----------

Outside, the air is cool and damp, but promises to develop into a glorious autumn day in the mountains. Within the Weyr's walls, however, that cool damp translates into an almost clammy feeling that hugs the walls of the outermost rooms. Even the living cavern feels a little muggy, when adding the various bodies that frequent it during the breakfast hours. By late morning, however, that is just starting to burn off, due to both the hearth's ever present fire, and the draft being encouraged through the opening to the bowl. Through that opening, enters one Glacier rider, half dressed for riding, while the other riding gear is slung over a shoulder. All of this is dumped near an empty chair before he heads in the direction of the sideboards, in search of klah and leftover breakfast foods.

Hana is already seated at an empty table, her shawl to ward away the damp over the back of a chair and a distinct lack of any needlework (or baskets to carry it) in sight. Instead, it's a half-empty cup of cooled tea, and a slate that has her attention, beyond the occasional glance up. In fact, it's towards the sideboards that usually gain her attention, but that might just be due to the fact folks usually hit that first. A quick blink is given, before a smile appears, and the young woman calls out a simple, "D'kan!" and waves a greeting to the rider.

Luckily it's a slow enough hour between breakfast and lunch that D'kan is well able to catch Hana's call. He lifts a mug of fresh klah toward her, then grabs something quickly to fill his plate before heading in her direction. "Good morning," the rider greets cheerfully as he takes a seat at the table. "Hard at work?" he adds a moment later, nodding toward the slate before he sets to work finishing his klah before it loses its steam.

"Or hardly working - I am debating about procrastinating, or not," Hana replies with a bit of a grin - and totally procrastinating about making that decision before lifting a shoulder, "Just making a list," she disclaims as she moves her scarf from the one chair, leaving them all free for the choosing.

D'kan's soft, answering laugh is his only reply regarding the procrastinating, as his mouth is full of toast at that particular moment. Still, the joke is not lost on him, and once he's cleared the bite with another sip of klah, he shakes his head slightly. "Could have fooled me. What kind of list?" A moment later, he follows up the question with another, "Did you hear about the ban being lifted from the Hold? I mean, I'd assume so... hanging out with Azaylia and all, but..." There is his trademark grin that follows. "Not that ''we'' couldn't visit, but... dunno. Feels good."

Hana blinks a moment, then ruefully chuckles, "Actually, I ''had'' missed that announcement - I was too pleased with the arrival of the tithes, full and early," she admits. A sip of tea is taken, then a shoulder lifted once more, "Oh, just the pros and cons of an offer. Having a bit of a trouble making up my mind." Wait. Hana, having problems making up her mi... oh, right. Never mind. Carry on, situation normal. She follows that with a grin, "It ''does'' sound.. feel good, to know that is lifted though. Even if I haven't gone back, the idea that it is easy to do so, lifts a weight."

"''Really'', now," D'kan replies with another grin, though this one is a little crooked. "Tell me, did some wayward Holder's son propose marriage? Going to whisk you away? Or are we in dire need of a new headperson? Lots of pros and cons to either." He's most likely teasing, as his dark brown eyes are twinkling a little more than usual.

Hana swoons back, hand to the head, "But he is so ''handsome'' and light on his feet," she mocks, eyes closed. Well, briefly. One opens to watch D'kan's expression, before she then straightens up, "And it would be an assistant, as I really only have a limited amount of experience arranging things."

The peeked view of D'kan's expression would be rewarded with a full on smile, chipmunk cheeks and all. The rider washes down another bite of toast, then gives Hana something that might almost be a shrewd look. "I think you're selling yourself short on the arranging bit. But... I don't know, seems right up your alley, if you ask me. Not that you did ask me. Just seems to fit. Probably why it came to mind in the first place." The last of his klah is drained, leaning just a few more bites of toast. "Let's hear 'em, then. Pros and cons."

Hana makes a face, then points at her friend, "You are not helping with the procrastination. Just for that, I'm going to let you take me to the Hold once I get up my nerve... and when I get horribly, horribly sick, I'm aiming deliberately." More detail then she'd normally go into, especially when accompanied by an aimed piece of chalk, but given almost gleefully. That done, she straightens up, "... and that's part of the problem. I know there is more. Alright, though. Hm... pros. I get to tell more people what to do. Cons. People are going to be coming to me all the time to tell them what to do. Pro: I get more responsibility and trust." And pay! "Con: I'll be out of my comfortable area, and learning new things," that she might have no interest in. Or might!

D'kan ducks to the side to avoid flying chalk. Perhaps some lucky child will find it later in the day and add some new art to the walls. "I'm failing to see how that last bit is a con, really," he tells Hana. While his eyes are still twinkling slightly, he sounds serious enough. "I mean... that's how we grow, right?" He pauses just long enough for that last bite of toast. "If you hate it, it's not like you're chained to it forever. It's just like... an apprentice headman or something."

"An apprentice ''headwoman'', thank you very much. And one who will still be making sure Lady Azaylia gets all the help she needs." A very firm tone on that bit, in fact, before lifting her shoulder, "I... just..." she searches around for the source of her issue, before looking off. "Do you think I could, then?" Not that she should, but that she could. "I... we didn't grow up here," she adds, unspoken that they, she isn't really going up in the ranks.

D'kan waves his empty mug slightly for the "headwoman" amendment. Nothing meant by it on his end, anyway. "Of course I think you could," he's quick to answer, "and where we came from has nothing to do with it. I mean, just look at all the people across the Weyr who are in charge of stuff but weren't born and raised here. Or any Weyr. The proof is in your ability, not your parentage."

Hana should really get that at this point, but... well. Same old story - she hasn't. There is a bit of a frown, as she tugs on a loose bit of hair, then nods slightly. Not with certainty, but... maybe. "I... suppose I should speak to the headwoman. See if she even ''wants'' another assistant. It is all well and good for it to be offered, but if she really doesn't need another one, well, I can always tell Lady Azaylia thanks."

"I hope you're going to tell her thanks, regardless," D'kan teases, definitely crooked with the grin this time. "And seriously, the headwoman would be crazy not to take on another competent assistant, right? Limited commodity and all that." He tips his mug toward himself as if to verify that, yes, it's empty. He points a thumb toward the sideboard and starts to get to his feet. "I'm going to go top up, then finish my hidework before Kaz and I head out for the day. Let me know when you want to head down to the Hold. Most days I have either the morning or afternoon free."

"I suppose I should probably stop trying to avoid that," Hana muses, before taking a deep breath, and nods. "Thanks for the ear, D'kan - and the offer. Definately don't let me infect you with procrastination - and give my hellos to your Kaz." With a bit of determination, the young woman then gets to her feet with her slate. Some serious thinking to finish off... then off to find a headwoman.

{{#ifexist: Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}} | <hr><hr><br><h2>Comments</h2>{{Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}}}} |<hr><hr>}}

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Logs:Iesaryth's Second Flight

2013-09-16T19:15:44Z

D'kan: Icon addition

{{ Log
| who = Quinlys, Alida, K'del, R'hin, K'zin, H'kon, H'vier, I'zech, D'kan{{!}}G'mli, V'teri, N'rov, E'dre, Alida{{!}}J'rus
| where = Snowasis/Guest Weyr, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Iesaryth rises in her second flight. There is drunkeness, stabbings, fights, provision of intel, surprises and what's likely a non-surprise in Fort's Vhaeryth catching the gold.
| when = Day 15, Month 10, Turn 32
| gamedate = 2013.09.13
| quote = And if Shani weren't so busy stabbing people, she'd be whispering names like a litany.
| weather =
| categories = Flight, Clutch 35, Re-Return of the Vijays
| mentions =
| ooc = Feel free to add icons, pros, poses as need be!
| icons = aishani comeon.png, aishani_iesaryth_wave.png, g'mli squint.jpg, k'zin flirty.jpg, k'zin rasavyth conspiring.jpg
| log = Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr

The Snowasis is rarely quiet, and even then, the high-ceilinged former weyr is kept from echoing by the fantastical booths tucked into its convoluted perimeter. The secluded seating spaces have been shaped from the truncated stalagmites that escaped the smoothing of the main floor, and are both softened and separated by colorful hangings that are thick and opaque enough to make each corner its own private nook.

Some of the smaller stalactites still roam the ceiling, their jagged teeth tracing a bumpy, inverted spine to the hearth. There, a thick rug with a low klah table and comfortable armchairs and couches sit, their upholstery and cushions changed sporadically to match the season: bright, light colors in the summer, fresh greens and yellows in the spring, warm autumnals in fall, and clear, rich hues for winter. Small tables litter the rest of the cavern, enough to fit up to four people each, while stools stand along the smooth wooden bar behind which is the passthrough window to the kitchen. Glass-paneled cabinetry behind the bar provides a clear view of the available liquors, the many colors reflecting the soft light of glows tucked into strategic niches around the cavern.
----

Whether it's the 'lightest sprinkle' of snow or not, it's unlikely than most of High Reaches is entirely prepared for it, regardless of their hardy mountain background -- no one really wants it to be winter yet, mostly because it just seems to drag ''on'' up this high. But now there's the question of food on people's minds and scrawny scared-looking kids skulking about besides. It's not much of a surprise that there's more than a few people drinking away their worries as dusk falls over the Weyr. Aishani, by the fire, rather than at the bar as per usual, looks less worried than just sort of sleepy, lingering over a mug in a chair, her feet propped up on a stool to keep the soles of her boots to the fire. She's slouchy and not entirely alert. Weird.

It ''is'' weird, and though Quinlys surely has enough on her plate with twelve first-month weyrlings in her care, it's weird enough that having collected what she presumably intends as her dinner, the bluerider breezily bypasses her usual companions in favour of joining the goldrider. There's a spare armchair just nearby, and it's there that she drops herself, her audible sigh likely intended as warning and, if needed, wake-up call.

It does seem that Aishani's noticed Quinlys. It just takes her a moment to get around to actually turning her head to look over the weyrlingmaster's way, and when she does, it's sort of a roll of her head, so she can rest it on the back of the chair. It's an awful lot of effort. Though she does have a brief smile, and there's none of the signs of sleep deprivation about her eyes, her mouth. "Quinlys. I hope you're well." There's a little tilt of her mug the bluerider's way.

"As well as can be given, you know, weyrli-- what's wrong with ''you''?" If there have been signs she ''ought'' to have picked up, Quinlys has clearly missed them. Thank the weyrlings. Now, balancing her dinner plate on one knee as she regards the sleepy-looking Aishani, the Weyrlingmaster makes a face. "You look like you should be holed up in your weyr to hibernate for the winter or something. Is it the snow? The snow. I hate snow this early in the turn."

Covering a yawn with the back of her free hand, Aishani waves Quinlys' concern off before taking a hefty drink from her mug. She and the bluerider are seated near the fire, the goldrider slouched into her chair and jacket, looking both tired and... weirdly relaxed. "Just... tired. Iesaryth's sleepy right now, so she's making me sleepy. It's one of those things." Indeed, the queen has been sleeping an awful lot lately, but she probably hates snow just as much. "I'd like to just go to bed, but I got up ridiculously late already and it just starts to feel, well. Like you only live in the dark or something of the like."

Speaking of snow, Alida enters the bar with her hair and shoulders dusted in the stuff, the blonde wrapped in the embrace of her flying jacket and a scarf to keep warm. Done with Wing duties and looking to keep the leftovers of heat inside her, the bluerider makes for the bar, dipping and dodging the usual throng of bodies along the way. She too looks as if she could use a nice dose of lounging before a nice fire, given the pink tint of her cheeks. Damned weather. If she notices Aishani and Quin over there, the woman gives no hint of any reaction.

Dragon> Despite spending so much of her time just ''resting'', Iesaryth still dozes on her ledge, ignoring both the traffic of the bowl and the snow that drifts down lightly from above. Perhaps the grey skies are reflected in the ones over deep, dark eerily calm waters that have a sense of strong undertow beneath. Far off, on the horizon, there's a line of unnaturally dull green. Storm's coming. (To High Reaches dragons from Iesaryth)

Quinlys' fork hovers in the air above her plate after Aishani mentions Iesaryth, as if she's adding two numbers together into a not-wholly-surprising equation. "Ah," she says, but only after that fork dips towards her stew again. "The healers always say that's unhealthy, even when you're sick," she agrees. "I mean, less so, when you're sick, I guess. But--" As she casts her gaze around, after that, she lets it rest just briefly on a few figures, brown- and bronzeriders, largely bypassing Alida in the process. "Well. It's that time, isn't it?"

Dragon> To High Reaches dragons, Cadejoth flies, out in the autumnal dusk, his thoughts rich with the wind and snow that ricochet off his streamlined torso, those green-bronzed wings. Storm's coming, sure, but in the meantime? The skies are fine. There's ''flying'' to be done.

While the bluerider looks around, Aishani definitely ''doesn't'', letting Quinlys scope out the situation. She'll just look into her mug, thanks. Given the situation, it's likely some sort of spiked klah. "I don't like it very much. It's a nice change from... not being able to sleep. But I like to be... productive. Awake. Upright." That last is offered up quietly, in case of any stupid male riders making stupid jokes. Dark curls mostly obscuring her expression, "Maybe. Probably. At least you won't have them at the same time."

Dragon> To High Reaches dragons, Arekoth has been perched on the rim for some time, staring down his hooked snout with so great an intensity he almost looks as serious as his rider. But all the impression of character that the shape of his nose might give him is just out the proverbial window as soon as he catches sight - catches thought - of Cadejoth. ''Flying.'' Broad wings open, and he drops into a low swoop, purely for the sake of pulling back up.

Dragon> ''Fascinating''! Look at that green far off. Facing facts, Rasavyth's been sort of a stalker the last few days, ''interested'' more than usual in the workings of Iesaryth's mind, even when (or possibly especially, if he needed more creep-factor than he naturally has) she was asleep. Does he know what the green means? Does he guess at what's coming? Well, he is a clever bronze, but Iesaryth just being Iesaryth can make him slow, or at least feel that way. In any case, just now he's no less the stalker, hanging at the fringes, often using the mental presences of others to help veil his watchful mind. Not that it's not obvious which gold he has a crush on. (Then again, the other one's his mom, so... maybe he's not the ''creepiest'' creeper of them all, right?) (To High Reaches dragons from Rasavyth)

She too can't help but noticing the nearby preponderance of brownies and bronzers, Alida still not putting two and two together, as she's distracted by the need of drink and warmth. Bellying up to the bar, the blonde orders an irish klah, paying for the drink, then turning about on her stool to observe the interactions all about here. Ah, now she notices the other two womenfolk, and Shani and Quin receive a nod, whether they see it or not.

Dragon> Meanwhile, Reisoth maintains a certain disinterest in anything that's going on, certainly of the other males, despite a very stark awareness of Iesaryth herself. But there's no attempt to draw attention to himself. He can simply observe from afar. For now. (To High Reaches dragons from Reisoth)

Counting on her fingers, Quinlys confirms: "Seems like Hraedhyth's lot will be just about ready for their own weyrs by the time ''your'' lot are into my care. I suppose there's some benefit to that. Really, though, I was hoping she'd take longer." The Weyrlingmaster is mostly teasing, though, and ''that'' is obvious in the way she wrinkles her nose and then grins, evidently intending to be encouraging. "It's all right. Most of them aren't staring at you, yet. At least it'll be over, soon enough." She does catch sight of the other bluerider out of the corner of her eye, but blueriders - for the moment - count as harmless; she does nothing but vaguely return that nod.

Dragon> To High Reaches dragons, Ilicaeth projects << Who cares if he's still pretty clueless in this particular facet of draconic ABC's? Not Ilicaeth. He's much more interested in how the others behave, the blue watching from some abandoned weyr's ledge like a rocky gargoyle, his inner-lidded eyes unblinking. >>

"You and me both," Aishani murmurs. Even though Quinlys' nod seems to be toward someone relatively harmless -- Alida, as it happens -- the goldrider doesn't want to take the chance; she just finishes her mug and looks back to the fire, crossing her ankles. "At least you won't be bored for long. I don't now if it'll be soon, but... from the way things were looking earlier, it seems everyone else does." That makes her set down her mug a bit harder than necessary, Iesaryth's influence not quite calming her irritation over ''that''. "Last time was better."

Dragon> To High Reaches dragons, Cadejoth is ''not'' paying Iesaryth any attention. Nope. He's even soaring over the bowl walls and out into open sky; no chance ''he'll'' get caught up in the storm to come! Really. Honestly. For sure.

Dragon> To High Reaches dragons, Arekoth might not be posted on the lookout anymore, but he's still watching. The brown doesn't follow Cadejoth, not out into the open, not now. He reaches the rim again, and banks, circling carefully. << I think you should fly out a little farther. >> Tire out the could-be competition. Couple days' roadtrip, why not?

Alida looks about as interested in Aishani as Ilicaeth is in Iesaryth. Even with portents of storm a-coming, the dozing queen is still pretty boring, so Ilicaeth's mostly focused on the posturing of the other males taking place around the gold. His rider is simply drinking, watching, listening, and finally noting how those various men and women continue to orbit to the goldrider like errant comets, brought to fiery life by the warmth and gravitational pull of her queen's incipient heat.

Dragon> To High Reaches dragons, Cadejoth is having ''too much fun'' just '''flying''' to be easily needled, even by would-be competition. << I'll fly where I want to, >> he tells Arekoth - tells the whole Weyr, really. Is he supposed to keep it down? He doesn't much mind. Or care. << The sky is perfect for flying, tonight. >>

Dragon> Ilicaeth has an even ''better'' idea: << Why doncha' two race each other from 'Reaches ta' Southern? >> See, he can be helpful! (To High Reaches dragons from Ilicaeth)

Dragon> To High Reaches dragons, Riuscyth rouses himself from his tail-thumping 'sleep' by the lakeshore with one thought to former Weyrleader dragon: << Shut up, already. >> There's far too much pleasure in that spared thought for the bronze to actually be asleep.

Dragon> To High Reaches dragons, Rasavyth's stalking isn't limited to Iesaryth. (Lucky Weyr dragons!) One of his ever-numerous lines of thought follows Cadejoth, and hears Arekoth's suggestion. He's encouraging. To his mentor, he casts oozy chains that might also reflect sunlight on ocean waters. << Flying farther sounds ''glorious''. >> Doesn't it just? Rasavyth ''might'' even be tempted by the thought himself. (Or seem to be.) It's not like he's headed down to the bowl, suspiciously near the feeding pens or anything.

"Because you weren't here." It's not exactly a conclusion that's difficult to come to, but Quinlys feels it out on her tongue; testing it. "I can imagine that. I know people go on about how the riders of female dragons always win, but... it still must be weird." She sounds genuinely sympathetic. "Don't worry, they're not, like, staring at you much or anything. Not too much. And I can kick people in the balls if you want me to - if you don't want to get up." She's helpful!

Dragon> As somnolent and lazy and bound and determined she is to sleep, dammit, everything is getting so loud that Iesaryth can't help but rouse herself from her heavy doze. The greenish skies darken the swelling waves, glassy and silent. Really? << Do you not have better things to discuss? >> She usually does. She can think about things all on her own, without telling everyone, ''Cadejoth''. (To High Reaches dragons from Iesaryth)

Dragon> What would the fun be in ''that'', Iesaryth? Boring! (To High Reaches dragons from Cadejoth)

Dragon> Again, oh-so-helpful, << The more ya pay attention to 'em, the more they won't shut up. >> Just like him. (To Iesaryth from Ilicaeth)

Dragon> Though Iesaryth has been whisper-quiet in sleep all day, mostly calm, with the eerie green edge that might be familiar to his rider, if not Vhaeryth himself, she's suddenly roused in mild irritation, glassy waves swelling higher. Where is ''he''? Cadejoth is here and ''annoying''. (To Vhaeryth from Iesaryth)

Dragon> << It's not discussion, >> Arekoth points out, as his circle brings his silhouette just above Rasavyth and the pens. << It's suggestion. A good one, >> as he swoops on, and peers through the air after Cadejoth, << too. The air's better, out by the ocean, you know. >> (To High Reaches dragons from Arekoth)

Dragon> << Open your eyes. >> There's a pointed nudge to her shoulder, surely not Cadejoth, especially not with that slow ripple of wave-like molten glass. Right here. Vhaeryth's been watching over her, here where Cadejoth dare not land. (To Iesaryth from Vhaeryth)

Dragon> Mmm, yes! The ocean! Not ''Iesaryth's'' ocean, but a corporeal one. Rasavyth ''helpfully'' projects the joyful sensation of flight on warm thermals, the way it feels to glide low over water, with the smell of salt and leaping fish. Doesn't that look like fun, Cadejoth? (To High Reaches dragons from Rasavyth)

There's a slow nod for the bluerider's supposition, though Aishani will add, quietly, "They weren't all there, more to the point. I don't... I don't want to hurt anyone." But she will, that's there in her undertone. Quinlys' joke is enough to make her laugh a little, give her the courage to peek out from behind her dark curls, gaze faintly hostile. As hostile as one can look when all slouched in her chair. It's then that she notes Alida at the bar and nods her way, though her attention's back to the fire soon enough.

Dragon> To Iesaryth, Rasavyth feels the need to make a private aside to the rousing gold. << Cadejoth's is a ''simple'' mind. We can leave him to his ''simple'' distractions and talk of ''other'' things. What occupies your mind, my queen? >> The 'my' might edge with possessiveness now, or at least covetousness. She's not his yet. But maybe someday... Perhaps even soon.

Dragon> Slow to open her eyes, Iesaryth is still warmly pleased that Vhaeryth's right there, with her. ''Possessive'' now, the undertow of those waves starting to pull. << Clever. >> It's a good thing. (To Vhaeryth from Iesaryth)

Dragon> When Cadejoth shuts up, sort of, Riuscyth slowly sheds the semblance of sleep. << What would ''you'' like to discuss? >> There's a hint of ink colored snark haloing that would-be polite thought sent Iesaryth's way. (To local dragons from Riuscyth)

Wandering down from her high bar stool, Alida finally picks her way over to the fire and the pair of women there, murmuring to Shani, "Must be reassurin' ta' know at least blue's ain't gonna crawl all over ya like fleas on a canine..." A droll bit of a wink for Quinlys transitions into her glib, "So... fists 'n knives soon?"

Dragon> Is Leiventh even here? Surely they haven't noticed: he's quiet and astute enough to keep to himself, guarded as always, refusing to be drawn into the maelstrom of his place of birth. His cold wind tucks tight, waiting with a seemingly infinite level of patience. (To local dragons from Leiventh)

Dragon> To Rasavyth, Iesaryth needs little encouragement to dismiss Cadejoth. He is so irritating! The skies above the swelling waves now creepy green, there's a sense of yet another bronze near, the flash of metal. << I mostly wanted to ''sleep''. >> But now that she's up and everyone's paying so much attention, there's the beginnings of a pull, as strong as an undertow. Hopefully no one will drown.

Dragon> It ''is''. The Fortian bronze rises from his languid sprawl, not far, not fighting the pull so much as strengthening it; if he went completely along with it, after all, he wouldn't feel her tug nearly as well. If his stretch happens to show off glossy, glassy-dark wings and their contrast to the gleam of her hide, it's not as though Iesaryth's looking, but that just means he shares the sensation ''anyway''. (To Iesaryth from Vhaeryth)

Dragon> To local dragons, Cadejoth? Still flying. Still ignoring the jibes of others. Still... not all that far away, but he's ''bound'' to be tiring himself out in the process. Is that intentional?

Something in Quinlys' expression hardens, but it's not entirely clear ''what'' has caused that. She's careful in setting her plate aside and in remarking: "I think you're allowed to. If they try anything. ''I'd'' forgive you. It's like pregnant women having their bellies touched; it doesn't make you public property, but it doesn't seem to matter how many times we try and remind people of that when they're weyrlings..." She rolls her eyes. "Alida."

Dragon> The Fortian bronze has the right to lounge on Iesaryth's own ledge, and lounge he does, dark wings that much more of a contrast to the bright queen as, languidly, he stretches them. (To local dragons from Vhaeryth)

Dragon> To local dragons, Riuscyth is supercilious in his regard of the interloper, Vhaeryth's image shared with everyone near by. An image that slowly gets extinguished like a flame being put out by two very large talons pinching together. Snuff. Go. Away. Right, he doesn't exist. Conspicuously.

Dragon> To local dragons, Iesaryth ''wanted'' to sleep. Was sleeping soundly enough that certain foreign bronzes could even sneak up onto her ledge, not that the bright, sunlit queen seems to mind in the least. He's there half the time anyway. But now that she's awake and stormy skies are dull muddy green, now that massive waves begin to rise and crash on the beach, ''now'' maybe she'll stay up for a bit. Since everyone's paying attention.

Dragon> To Iesaryth, Rasavyth's mind colors with apology, but he ''feels'' the tug of the undertow, the swell of the storm that's becoming obvious. << That does not seem likely, ''now'', but ''after'' soon has come and gone... >> His suggestion is one that's a gossamer ooze that glimmers and trembles in the winds that stir the waves to action. He's speaking of what he doesn't fully know or understand. It's a notion knit together from the minds of those who have actually flown successfully in flights.

Dragon> To local dragons, Rojeth is... somewhere. Hard to pinpoint exactly, but then he does prefer to be just a disembodied voice most of the time. Or, in this case, just a disembodied clammy fog, stirred by the slow exhale of a derisive breath and the pressure of a watchful presence waiting on one finally-roused Iesaryth.

Dragon> A racing of cold, icy wind brushes the surface of her oceanic depths. A greeting; an acknowledgement; a tease? Too soon to tell, surely. (To Iesaryth from Leiventh)

Dragon> To local dragons, Arekoth banks hard, fans his wings, and winds up dropping down near Rasavyth. An atmospheric crackle greets stormy skies, offering no colour to vie with that green, not yet. << He's lost, >> answers Riuscyth's image, a harder edge to the words. Maybe Cadejoth should escort him home.

Dragon> Those pincers, how ineffective. Do they have better luck anywhere else, anywhere at all? Only the shadow knows. Vhaeryth stays low, for the moment Iesaryth's high-cast cloak, anticipating rather than daunted by the rising tide. There will be a whole pack of them, soon, who have lost. (To local dragons from Vhaeryth)

What little ease she has left is gone at the bluerider's wording. Aishani gives Alida a grimace, telling her in a low tone, "No one's crawling all over me." Not right ''now'', at least. Later... well. Sadly, she might not have a lot of choice in the matter there. She's about to say something to Quinlys, drawing in a breath; then something has her pausing and looking to the door to the bowl, going faintly pale. As she pushes out of her chair, slowly and regally, she unstraps the belt knife from her hip, and offers it up to the weyrlingmaster, regretfully. She probably won't kill anyone now? Probably.

Dragon> To local dragons, Rasavyth isn't thrilled to be being joined near the hatching grounds, but it was rather inevitable with the way that storm is growing. He's circumspect with his silence. He's one of the youngest whose mind has contributed to the noise that's kept Iesaryth from sleeping, and now his wisdom has him sitting back to watch as the older dragons waste their energies on one another. His eyes are on the beasts, already nervous with the proximity of the dragons. Something (maybe some''one'' if no one takes the stabbies from Aishani) is dying tonight.

Dragon> Steam rises where icy wind meets too-warm waters, unsettled and rough. The gold's undercurrents begin to grow stronger, drawing even the distant in. (To Leiventh from Iesaryth)

Quinlys' mouth opens - and then she stops, stops herself from saying whatever it was she intended to. Instead, she takes the knife, giving Aishani an encouraging enough nod. "Good luck," she says. "I'll keep this safe for you." She nods towards the exit, expression rueful, in a way.

Nobody ever said Alida was politically correct, and that eyeroll her commentary evinces from Quinlys earns the Weyrlingmaster a quick flash of a small grin. Aishani's rise, her handing over of her knife to the other bluie earn the goldrider a quick, "Good thing ya' ain't learned any advanced defense tactics." Beat. "Yet." Unlike Quin, ''she's'' settling down before the fire. Soon enough, they'll all be gone for the flight cave.

That door's where N'rov has emerged, clad ambiguously in grays that are lighter than, just now, his eyes. "More guests," he says drily, the thumb hooked behind him denoting his Weyrsecond, but those eyes are for his girl within the group. "I won't pretend even this one's for me. Come on."

Dragon> To local dragons, Wroth is older, yes, but not nearly as wasteful in energy as Rasavyth may think. He's there, somehow, admist the Reachian males. A small, burly, brown presence. He ''will'' play the broadcast game and throws out his storms to amplify all the tension. Crackling thunder hints at his laughter.. he has flown these skies before. It'll feel ''good'' to fly them again.

"Guest, I guess," E'dre drawls, making his way in after N'rov. His expression is pinched, brows furrowed, lips drawn in a thin line. Still clothed in his riding gear, he begins to undo the front of his jacket to let in cooler air. Where to go? He makes his way to stand just a bit from the rest of the group. His eyes are locked on N'rov. He could be keeping an eye on the bronzerider, for many reasons, or he could be sizing up competition.

Rolling her eyes, Aishani's about to say something to Alida, but then there's N'rov-- and that's enough of a relief, visible in the drop of her shoulders and the way she ''goes'' to him, despite looking like she was going to her death a minute before. "Thank you for your help," she calls over her shoulder, only semi-sardonically, and then she's wrapped around the Fortian and out the door, because that's going to make things so much better! E'dre gets a long look before, "Touch me and you lose your hand. Welcome." She's a charmer.
----

Guest Weyr, High Reaches Weyr

This broad ledge is dappled with bright light in the morning and commands a lovely view of the eastern end of the bowl, including the lake and the trees that dot the shoreline. Reached by a flight of stone steps that climb up from the bowl floor, the ledge is relatively low, an easy jump down to the ground; possibly its selection was a safety precaution, so anyone stumbling out the wrong way after a flight would be unlikely to break his or her neck. Within the weyr itself is a comfortably-sized dragon wallow, rarely used but swept clean nonetheless.

The cavern broadens as it stretches back away from the entrance to reveal a neatly made double-sized bed pushed up against the back wall, a press at its foot with an extra blanket folded on top of it and two chairs standing guard to either side of the hearth. A rectangular table lurks against the side wall, kept stocked with a pitcher of water and a basket of seasonal fruits. The weyr is well-lit and kept immaculately clean, the refreshing scents of citron-infused sweetsand mingling with the tang of herbs.
----

Dragon> To local dragons, Arekoth projects << Since when is a a good sparring match a waste? Arekoth makes a few awkward sideways hops toward that young bronze, with ''so'' much to learn about this whole dance, and spreads his wings as wide as they will go, flicking them at full extension. << There's no fun in you, >> to Rasavyth, has only the slightest sound of distraction. Blame the skies. >>

Dragon> It's rather hard to be ''distant'' from her: there's that bond of familiarity and ''family'' that they share, but more than that: he's drawn to the warmth of her waters, swinging back and forward, teasing, waiting, watching for the moment. (To Iesaryth from Leiventh)

While others have vultured around Iesaryth's rider, or ignored it, or found a drink elsewhere, V'teri's taken advantage of his knowledge of how flights work to just sit on the cot in the guest weyr, shirt off, with a deck of cards being air shuffled in between his two hands. How's them apples? He might have even lit some candles to ''set the mood'' or something ridiculous. His boots, at least, are still on. How long he's been here, who knows, those candles don't look all that fresh though.

R'hin's, well -- let's face it, he's had a few drinks. Perhaps more than a few -- he's clinging to the flask as he strolls in with K'del, chuckling at something the other bronzerider's said. There's an air of... distraction about him, like he's trying ''hard'' to ignore what's going on, and his own dragons' attentiveness to the High Reaches queen, but really, even ''he'' can't pretend forever.

K'del is not ''precisely'' wobbly on his feet, but his cheeks are flushed with more than cold, and though he grins in answer to R'hin, he's equally not quite all there. Or here. Or wherever it is he's supposed to be. Far above, Cadejoth is finally on his way back to the Weyr, but he's already slower than he was-- ''he'' is clearly not a contender in this, no matter how lustful his thoughts are now. SMRT. "Yeah, well," he says, finding himself a place up against one wall. "That's women for you."

H'kon has the lightest smell of whisky on his breath, but seems lucid. Seems solemn. Seems rather unhappy to be present. He has taken, as he always does, a place at the outskirts, and is contenting himself to scowl, with something more than a Face, at a space in the air just in front and up from his feet, careful to at least keep his breathing measured. There are ''some'' things wholly his own and under his control.

It takes a little while for Aishani to get to the guest weyr -- and yes, everyone ''is'' directed to the guest weyr, not the goldrider's weyr, and if anyone asks, the caverns workers in question mostly look awkward and embarrassed. The goldrider is absolutely neither; she ''is'' wrapped around N'rov, however, like he's a life preserver. Because Vhaeryth lounging on Iesaryth's ledge isn't enough. And speaking of the queen, she finally rouses herself from that ledge, but likewise takes her time about it, spreading rippled wings wide just so everyone can ''admire'' before she takes off and lands in the feeding grounds, scattering the herds.

"Which is why you're now in to men?" asks a non-addled brownrider by the rose-cheeked K'del. His voice is gruff, his head is a little bald and he looks old enough to be Aishani's grandfather possibly. A look of amusement shoots past the once Reachian Weyrleader to the other once Reachian Weyrleader. "Thank the fuck I never was really Weyrleader. Turns men is what it does."

J'rus is hurrying in a minute after the last of the tardiest of the main group has entered the flight cave, the handsome brownrider having only just returned to the Weyr-proper after a long, lazy soak at the hot springs with his brown Kadarith...who's now making ga-ga eyes at wakening Iesaryth. The affable man is puffing slightly after jogging all the way across the Bowl, and actually greeting everyone in the cave with a mellow baritone, "Evening, folks," and his trademark, winning smile as he too takes up a place holder at the outskirts of the throng. Nevermind that his blue eyes keep straying towards Aishani. That's just a given.

There's little difference between the I'zech that strolls into the weyr now and one that might be headed toward the bathroom. Maybe he's considering unbuckling his belt, just in case, or maybe he's just getting it buckled now after rolling out of bed. He does have a pretty just-woke-up look about him. Anyway, he doesn't actually unbuckle anything, it's just that his hand is on it as he ambles in, makes a bit of a face and looks around for a seat. And Rojeth, he's appears from ''somewhere'', sweeping quietly onto the feeding grounds to begin some gory decimation.

Dragon> It's true that Rasavyth could not be called ''frivolous'' just now as red mingles with purple in his bejeweled eyes. The sideways hops and flare of wings fail to impress the young bronze, who, while slender and proportioned in such a way that suggests he's management, not your average knuckle-dragging bronze, he's still larger than ''most'' browns. He could probably explain something about sparring matches being a waste, but, there's no fun in him, as Arekoth has pointed out. Not just now, not with his focus drawn otherwise. He simply emanates mild amusement at the brown's attempt to engage or otherwise unsettle him. (To local dragons from Rasavyth)

E'dre's entrance is not nearly as grand as N'rov and his goldrider drapery. He doesn't bother greeting anyone. He ''does'' give a pointed ''look'' at K'del before making his way to lean against a wall. The rest of those present will be ignored. Just another stuck-up Fortian, right? Weyrsecond knot on his shoulder or not. Arms crossed in front of him, he glares forward and does his best not to be obvious that he's ''watching'' N'rov. At the feeding grounds, Wroth makes his presence known with a snarl as he lands. It's a trick! Or a play at one. The mahogany brown is no stranger to his birthplace and knows his way around. There's no bumbling or fussing. He lurks, hunkered down and ready to spring. His mind-voice is a roll of thunder, his laughter is a crackle of lightening. This will be ''fun''.

"Did I ever tell you about the time--" R'hin's just launching into another tall tale, but he falters about halfway through as he gaze shifts and tracks Aishani's arrival, completely derailing his thoughts. "So... yeah." And then ''that'' happens, that comment that swivels his head around towards the brownrider, and his eyes narrow. From near the lake shore, it's a straight, arrow-pointed glide of the angular bronze Leiventh that takes him to the feeding grounds. He is an efficient, effective killer, though all the while as he tears through sinew to get at the blood, the Monacoan's gaze is fixed on Iesaryth.

''If'' K'del were going to pay attention to anyone in particular, it would be Aishani and not that non-addled brownrider, or the Fortian one either... and even then, it would be so that he can give her a look of something akin to apology, even if it really is apology tinged with the onset of draconic-induced lust. Really, though, he doesn't quite manage to look at her face, so it may not count. "Yeah," he says, with an exhale. "Yeah." Cadejoth's lazy about the way he throws himself into the herds, as if he, too, is aware of his own limitations in this particular fight, not that he seems to intend to let that stop him. Blood splatters; spurts.
Lurking near those feeding grounds, brown Durinth must have decided to start early, because he's already muzzle-deep in... well, it ''was'' going to be his meal, but now it's something else, as Iesaryth scatters the other meals-to-go. Rumbling something that would be more welcoming without such a raspy edge to it, he instead focuses on taking care of that warm blood, while his attention hones in on the glowing gold. There are other dragons? Oh well. He pays them little heed. For now.

N'rov escorts his girl in, staying with her, ignoring the walls. If he spots H'kon, he looks right over his head, because that worked so well ''last'' time; he only has time to throw back to E'dre, "Aren't you glad you followed me?" With that, his attention's back to Aishani, like he'd be the pole to her dance if that's what it takes, though his grimace might have to do with how the brownrider stares and isn't even the only one staring. Vhaeryth's hunting already, and not for some lame cull, but the pick of the herd and then another. He bloods, they blood, they all blood for ocean's flood.

It's too bad cards aren't quite as sharp as darts as V'teri just lounges on that bed, like he owns it, and starts flicking cards one at a leisurely time at people near by. Like target practice. Bam, you're done. Bam, you're done. One leg bends and crosses over the other and he watches the arriving circus of male dragon riders and the one focal point to all this. Riuscyth rises from the lake shore in a low glide and makes short work of two herdbeasts, in a neat, orderly fashion, then waits, and while waiting, runs the tip of his talon through the fur of one of the beasts.

Arekoth maybe shouldn't be the one to decide it's getting crowded, but man. Look at all these guys. He heads for a beast promptly, another crackle at the back of his mind for Iesaryth's ripple, even a flash of pink glow when the gold shows. Grabbing the beast isn't quite as graceful as he might have liked, with the sudden stampede, but it works, on the second snatch. H'kon knows more from reactions around him than from looking that N'rov is here. That man, at least, is worth looking up for, worth glowering (up) at.

Of all that people to expect showing up drunk, H'vier might be high on a list. But he's not drunk when he arrives. He doesn't need to be drunk when there's a flight to be won. And even if this one is a lesser priority to the last goldflight he chased in, H'vier is here for business. We'll call it business. Reisoth might have feigned disinterest earlier but even ''he'' is drawn to the feeding grounds in Iesaryth's wake.

Dragon> He's amused, and not just amused: ''yes'', he's watching her. How could he not? (To Iesaryth from Vhaeryth)

K'zin doesn't arrive alone to the weyr. In fact, he's courteously and congenially leading the way for a Telgari bronzerider. As ever, with flights, the young bronzerider has a too easy, and sort of creepy grin''leer'' thing going on. K'zin's attention isn't solely for Aishani, in fact, his sweeping leer is more for the chasers right now. After all, nothing ''very'' interesting has happened yet, and he's scoping out the possibilities. Who'll get punched? Who'll go home crying?

Kadarith's younger, but he knows this dance well. Up his tan wings conduct him, to then drop him down upon a herdbeast's back, weight breaking it with a loud crack that gets lost in the braying and bleating of the paniced herd. Blood and need are the pulse of his thoughts, and while the other males waste their time (in his opinion) bashing their egos against each other, ''he'' simply fuels up, watches beguiling Iesaryth, and bides his time...soon blooding another, then another beast.

"Seriously, man, keep that grin to yourself," E'dre shoots towards K'zin. Disgust is clear on the brownrider's face. "Women go for that? Since ''when''." Wroth might be firmly in play with the brownrider's behavior.. but then again, maybe not. With other males blooding, Wroth waits for those that are discarded and laps lazily at the blood that still flows. Oceans? He'll take some. Save his energy for other more important pursuits.

Dragon> Is it fascination that pins his gaze to her, or just plain old-fashioned lust? Surely such a refined being as Leiventh would never be that crass, though: the walls start to crumble as he's drawn into the circle of her attentions. (To Iesaryth from Leiventh)

"In here," K'zin practically purrs in the direction of E'dre, "It's not much about what ''women'' go for, is it. It's about what their dragons want." He's not over-confident so much as simply ''relaxed''. "Besides, there can be only ''one''," Beat. "Catcher." But can't everybody win under the right circumstances? Regrettably, K'zin is the far more graceful of the pair just now. Rasavyth's blooding is lacking in finesse, but ''hey'', at least he's blooding this flight and not just coming up empty again and ''again''.

Aishani doesn't want to look at anyone really; her usual ability to seem completely unaware of other's regard is now gone, her dark gaze is fixed to the stony floor. Maybe it's her need to corral Iesaryth, whose storm is raging in earnest now, the winds and waves drawing them all in like a typhoon, pulling them under. It's not the ''blood'' that's an issue, it's slowing her to bother with it as wings rustle, as the bright gold already looks skyward. Her rider isn't quite clinging to N'rov in the same way, but if he's keeping everyone else ''away'', it's working. She doesn't look up, not even when she catches her breath suddenly and wavers, when the gold looks up to the snow and stars and ''flies''.

Don't worry, H'kon. You're not alone in the (lack of) height category, 'cause here comes G'mli! Huffing and buffing, the burly little brownrider rushes in, eyes almost as wild as his hair. "Did I miss it??!" He asks the nearest rider, grabbing some poor bronze rider by the scruff and shaking him. Still trying to catch his breath, though, he finally takes in the rest of the scene (possibly on tiptoes) and starts to calm down. He'll just... move off to the side and rock on the balls of his feet. Totally casual. Durinth, meanwhile, grows even more intent, as his meal-turned-fuel is pushed aside. Must clear a spot so he can take off when ready, right?

Dragon> Her storm needs more darkness, and he offers the inky expanse of his night mind to the physically brilliant gold. It creeps into her thoughts, just at the edge, waiting for any by your leave to encroach further. There's solace in that darkness, for ''her'' particular stormy rage. (To Iesaryth from Riuscyth)

Dragon> When doesn't he? Any times where she might have felt slighted are gone now; if he watches her, he can follow, if he follows, he can ''fly''. This time. Maybe this time. That's an echo of Shani, though as she lifts higher, there's a little of her own thrill at the idea. So close. (To Vhaeryth from Iesaryth)

"Sorry about this, ol' chum," that mutter's for K'del, as R'hin steps past the other bronzerider towards that brownrider on K'del's other side. He balls his fist and reaches back in one of those epic-time-slows-down punches to solidly connect against the man's face, spinning him in an entire circle and smacking him against the wall. At least, that's how it goes in his head: the reality is he trips over K'del's foot as he's trying to move around, and his swing goes wildly into the wall behind the brownrider, with a stunted curse of, "Son of a porcine loving mother ''fuck'', to which the curse is accompanied by Leiventh's leap skyward after the High Reaches queen.

Dragon> To Leiventh, Iesaryth would usually be too polite to demand this tribute, too relaxed to ''pull'' like this, too lazy, frankly, to lead a chase. But now, her warm winds whip through and along with the colder ones, urging him to follow.

Rojeth's wings start off before his crooked teeth fully release their latest meal, but the second it hangs from his mouth doesn't slow the jolt that launches him into the air after Iesaryth, body aimed toward the gold even as he takes a calculating glance aside at the other males in pursuit. All it does for I'zech, though, is draw in a deep breath and harden the glare he's turned on Aishani, with little interest at all for the millions of other men in the room.

Dragon> He watches her; he can follow. He does follow; he flies, narrowing between the others, a splinter of glass that would ''pierce'' if any of them get in his way. That thrill, that's not just hers. That's ''theirs''. (To Iesaryth from Vhaeryth)

K'del, who ''had'' closed his eyes in order not to get worked up by Fortian interlopers or anyone ''else'' he doesn't like (the list keeps growing) can't help but be jolted back into the present, away from his bronze, both by R'hin's muttered words, and the punch-gone-awry afterwards. As his foot gets tripped over, ''he'' loses his balance too-- and he ends up launched forward, his leg just barely managing to avoid hitting the Monacoan bronzerider as he goes flailing forward. Does he hit someone? It's entirely possible. Does Cadejoth make it into the air without too much of a problem? Thankfully, yes.

Fly. ''Fly''. And Riuscyth is off like the light his mindvoice lacks, shooting towards her to try and lead this pack of rabble rousers. There's motivation in his massive frame as his neck extends and wings thrust backwards as he coasts for those initial, precious seconds before they snap out to beat against currents and snow towards Iesaryth. Is he first? He's certainly not last. During that initial cruise, however, the cards have fallen slack, but each wing beat brings with it the pointy edge of a sharp card thrown (a la ninja star) at random people's heads. It manages to graze a former Benden brownrider's cheek.

E'dre's expression says it all neatly: his upper lip is curled back and his brows are crooked: one up, one down. Disgust. "Right. Only one. And I ''doubt'' it'll be you, anyway." He lifts his shoulder up in a half-shrug, his hand splaying out in front of him as the look of disgust is replaced with a cocky smile. "We'll just have to see what wins out, right? With the way N'rov is wearing her, I'm sure the decision has been made already." And the punches fly! E'dre makes his way to stand closer to N'rov and subsequently Aishani. Wind and rain, thunder and flashes of brilliant blue-tinged lightening, Wroth tosses these happily towards the gold and her typhoon. He'll feed it, enhance it, toy with it. As she leaps skyward, he waits and lets a few others go ahead of him. Only after the majority of the males have launched themselves does he follow. Has he already given up? Or is he plotting?

There are things that are important to H'vier here and things that aren't. Aishani is the important thing, Iesaryth beyond from Reisoth's perspective, and everyone else can die in a fire as far as they're both concerned. He focuses and moves closer while his bronze bloods with efficient expertise. Reisoth doesn't launch himself skywards immediately after the gold does, draining his kill before following the rest.

Dragon> It's fascinating, and were Iesaryth herself, she'd take her time to explore the darkness, the edges of it, the color and depth. But now, she has to go go go, but it does complement the eeriness of the storm, the raging winds, the waves that threaten to pull them all under. Who will survive. (To Riuscyth from Iesaryth)

Air! This is what Arekoth's been waiting on, waiting for, waiting in- well, doesn't matter. When Iesaryth is up, he's up with her, a flash of green managing to glint off the snow, welcomed into his mental landscape as he strains through it, strains forward. He's already checking for competition, checking that recently-cleared spot, calling, << Sure you've got enough Endurinth for this? >> back jovially. Not a waste if you're having fun. H'kon presses his back to a convenient wall, and shifts his attention to warily watching the room.

Dragon> That's enough of a consent, the lack of a no, to Riuscyth for him to not only chase her in the air, but to send that sweeping, roiling empty blackness into her thoughts. Always threatening but never quite overcoming that storm, perhaps pushed back by those winds and waves, perhaps cautious and aware of the dangers therein, but tempted and tempting in kind. (To Iesaryth from Riuscyth)

From his 'observation post' towards the back of the weyr, J'rus takes idle notice of R'hin's drunken and mistimed punching of the wall and K'del's subsequent trip over him, the Monocoan bronzer's cursing earning him a low, liquid burble of baritone laughter from the easy-going brownrider...the sound taking on a more airy quality as Kadarith impels himself skyward after ascending Iesaryth. He's not a planner or conniver, but the brown's not daft, either, watching his fellow males in the pack, and jockeying for the best opening position. It's early in this lust-fueled Filght, after all.

F'rint watches R'hin and K'del stumble around drunkenly, having side stepped first R'hin's punch by happy accident of the Monacoan bronzerider's stumble, and then K'del's accidental punch thrown in a flail. ''Fuck me.'' It's written all over his wearied face and abruptly he turns to exit, even though Oranyuth doesn't depart the skies and his chase.

N'rov mutters, low and urgent, as Vhaeryth pierces the sky splinter-swift after Iesaryth; the rider's shoulders twitch, and the length of his arm would ward off I'zech's glare and dull H'vier's focus if he could. He certainly doesn't welcome his wingsecond's approach, as though if E'dre had his back, it might have a fist with it.

K'zin makes a point of looking at E'dre with an extra saucy grin and leer before pulling his attention away. He doesn't attempt to dissuade the Fortian of his doubts. Let E'dre-- and more importantly ''Wroth'' underestimate them. After all, who would worry about the young and inexperienced Rasavyth (who has yet to make it to the end of a flight, let alone win one). No one. Don't mind the way that the weight of his kill is left behind and his smooth launch occurs with a bunching of powerful muscles. Once he's aloft, dull wings unfurl to reveal their impressively bright underside and he surges higher, throwing himself into the storm and into the chase with fervor, but not without his wits.

Dragon> And follow he does, drawn tight as a bow to her radiance, arrow straight. The cold winds of his mental tones warm to match hers, spinning them every higher and upwards. ''Soon,'' they whisper, promising so many things. (To Iesaryth from Leiventh)

Durinth is up with the chasing cloud, focused on Iesaryth and on gaining altitude. So focused, in fact, that he doesn't notice a young, upstart bronze coming straight up his left flank. Literally. Talons rake and limbs tangle, dropping ichor down to the feeding grounds so recently vacated. Luckily there's just enough air that both dragons are able to find their wings again, and while the bronze battles forward, Durinth instead veers away from the hunting pack, off to find a place to nurse his wounds. In the weyr, G'mli, all excitement just moments before, is crestfallen (not to mention worried). At least he's caught his breath, so it's with some small shred of dignity that he quietly slips through the exit. Time to find something to numb both his dragon and him.

There's a beating, of a man who deserves it. Except it's not really happening: R'hin's slumping to the ground now, laughing hilariously like someone's just told Pern's best joke. If he's even noticed his intended target's departure, it seems unlikely: between far too much alcohol and a growing tension that has his gaze pulled inevitably in Aishani's direction, the Monacoan is far too distracted. His dragon is a shade (okay, miles) more decorous than his rider: flying arrow straight, using his broad wings and angular body to slice through the air quickly and cleanly. Of course, this also opens him up to jostling from others, given his attention is largely fixed on the queen.

Okay, the mess that R'hin and K'del have managed to get themselves in? That makes Aishani look up, still holding onto N'rov's arm, but staring at the pair of ''former Weyrleaders'' in vague disbelief. Especially R'hin, given she doesn't hate him so much. "Are you ''serious''?" The fact that they're too fucked up to get handsy (or maybe catch) doesn't quite penetrate her indignance. Above, Iesaryth is a sun in the night sky, wings taking her ever higher as she goes faster, faster still. She ''never'' moves this quickly, never flies so high or so long. The mountains below tiny spines, she banks and dives, waves breaking, pulling them all under.

The smile N'rov gets from I'zech is all snarl, all teeth and no warmth, as the Fortian's arm catches his eye like a predator drawn to movement. He lets out a low, dark laugh. "Odds aren't in your favor," he points out in an exhale, getting some twisted amusement from the fact that, whoever wins, there's a good chance N'rov's girl is bedding down with someone else tonight. And this time when turns his glare back at Aishani, it takes a nice slow path over her, aaaaall the way down her body and back up again. The drunken tussling doesn't seem to interest him at all. In the air, Rojeth rumbles out a rough note, ducking beneath a wall of wings to come at this pack from another angle, hissing a warning at whoever is nearest.

The sound of Aishani's voice throws K'del back into the present, now that he's attempting to disentangle himself from the poor brownrider he ended up tripping into. He actually ''grins'', turning his attention back towards the goldrider as he says, "''Anything'' to avoid ending up in bed with ''you'', darling." Which would work better if he weren't looking at her with quite so much lust. Luckily, Cadejoth is already beginning to tire, though he's still part of the pack for now. Maybe if he's really lucky--

Dragon> One down. That's just the ''beginning''. And then ''down'' in a different way, her way, and he does follow her, down and down even if there's no air to breathe, they're that fast. He could breathe, should breathe. But he won't, not if she's doing it too, not if he can ''drown'' in her. (To Iesaryth from Vhaeryth)

Bumping with the bronze that comes off Durinth, Arekoth loses some momentum, loses some direction. The effort of attempting to regain all these has ribbons of colour springing forth, refracted when they fall under Iesaryth's waves... and rushing all out when the brown makes a desperate dive, aiming for Iesaryth, cutting right toward Leiventh. H'kon takes a deeper breath, upsetting his former rhythm, and presses both hands back, palms flat to the wall. The laughter gets a look. But so does everything else.

The other bronzerider's arm around Aishani does less to dull H'vier's focus than to make him want N'rov to be somewhere else. He moves closer (personal space, what's that?) and a hand reaches out to grab at the man's shoulder. More to get his attention than anything else, surprisingly. "This ain't your party yet, pretty boy. How about you back the fuck off, huh?"

"Shells I'm reminded ever-so-much why I left this place turns ago," E'dre mutters to himself, disgust returning as he throws a glance back at the drunks. Then to I'zech, snarl matched by a smirk. "Always find those who bet in these flights lose big." Somewhere in all this time, E'dre has lost his jacket. And his shirt. He brushes his hair back from his face and glances towards Aishani. Iesaryth is the sun, well, arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon; who is already sick and pale with grief. Wroth has somehow made his way from the back to the middle of the pack. He continues to keep his distance, the mountains below of no concern to him, his energy is being stored up for a final surge forward. In an effort to speak to that fair, glowing, beauty before him he shares more waves of poetry in the form of graying storms being parted by that fair sun.

Pull me under! Pull me under! Pull me under, I'm not afraid! is the harmonious, answering cadence of Kadarith's thoughts to Iesaryth's undertow, the brown almost as genial as his rider. With nearby Rojeth hissing at him and another pursuer comes the over-sized brown's rolling rumble of scoffing humor. Those who protest the most have the least, after all! Hahahaha! This sentiment gets J'rus laughing all over again, the Flight stealing more of his wits from him as time goes on, the sound of the man's humor quite the contrast to all the foul spirits currently found within the weyr. Even H'vier's spouting of testiness earns the bronzer a snigger.

Well, the rumors said that K'zin who once had a penchant for punching his father-figure of a bronze mentor, K'del, had simpered down once they started working together in Taiga. But K'del's words draw a derisive ''snort'' from the younger bronzerder and he turns to smirk cruelly toward K'del, "Like she'd want a piece of your worn-out, limp-dicked attempt at love-making. You're all washed up, old man." And if that doesn't earn him some of K'del's attention, maybe the pair of step he takes toward his wingsecond will. It's not like ''K'zin'' has any special warm fuzzies for ''Aishani'', but his mind so entrenched in ''Rasavyth''... well, Rasavyth ''does'' for Iesaryth, and by extension her ambitious rider. Ambition is the name of the game now, his touch comes fleetingly to the stormy gold, << Brown on your left flank, bronze sweeping upward. >> True, they might be far from the fast-flying queen, but just little heads ups that will help her avoid entanglements with anyone who's name doesn't start with Rasa- and end in -vyth.

Down, down, fast enough to drown, Vhaeryth rumbles against any hiss and follows Iesaryth's riptide ''in''. N'rov, he spares a glance for the former Weyrleaders, no more. Even I'zech and his odds only gets a scowl; he knows it too well, way to rub it in. It's a scowl that turns to a smirk as E'dre chimes in, at least, and though he half-turns under H'vier's grip, there's no way he backs off. "Afraid you can't last, man? Deal with it on your ''own'' time."

Dragon> It's never so good any other way, this flight, and before, the pieces she has, that wasn't like this either, nor was the ''sharpness'' there in the flight or the chasing. Not the breathlessness. She'd tell him where she's going next, but that wouldn't be fair. Or fun. (To Vhaeryth from Iesaryth)

Dragon> It mightn't be fair... but it would be ''clever''. And then it would be ''more'' than fun. (To Iesaryth from Vhaeryth)

Aishani's exclamation earns a low-throated chuckle from R'hin -- completely unapologetic. In fact, his grin goes ''wider'' when she's looking at him, and there's definitely something keenly interested beneath his drunken demeanor. But still, he's on the floor, she's all the way over there: that makes it safe, right? Except he's pushing to his feet, now, K'del largely forgotten. Leiventh, too, twists and makes to dive after that glowing gleam of brilliance, though Arekoth's cut across his path makes him veer sharply to try and avoid the brown. Not quite fast enough, perhaps -- there's certainly contact, and a jolt of something sharp, angry and ''pained'' from the normally guarded and taciturn bronze.

"You tell him," says V'teri from his bed perch, overhearing and espying H'vier's manhandling of Fort's pretty boy. For N'rov's head, there's another card flicked. Sooner or later, he's going to be out of cards and never will find a full deck of fifty-two again in this sausage-ridden weyr. Riuscyth uses his big body and his lashing tail to try and keep a bubble of personal space about him and tries to maintain that lead, but he's big and part of endurance is the ability to not expend all your energy up front and shortly, the dark, sleek bronze's place in the sky falters.

Dragon> << Be clever. Figure it out. >> (To Vhaeryth from Iesaryth)

Dragon> << Working on it. >> (To Iesaryth from Vhaeryth)

To K'del, "That's the nicest thing you've ever done for me." Even though she's smirking, she seems weirdly touched. Though now that Aishani's looking, she can see the way people are watching her, I'zech's once-over -- and doesn't try to hide her disgust. That is, until there's ''shoving''. That totally distracts her from R'hin and the fact that he's on his feet. Harshly, glaring at H'vier, "What the fuck?" There's actually something of an accent there in her voice, the loss of the cultured tones she's developed. Iesaryth is oblivious to drama or her rider's likes or dislikes; if the dragons can follow, if they can ''guess'', if they can chase without getting rolled under by the tsunami growing, they're worthy. She's now skimming the snowy mountain tops, and though she's still fast due to size and massive wings, she's slowing, gliding longer, dipping lower. Shani: "Shit."

If it ''weren't'' for Aishani's remark, however smirky, K'del would probably be throwing a punch at K'zin right now-- and who could blame him? But somehow, he seems pleased, and it's enough that he struggles away from his wingmate, shoving past him instead of aiming that blow. "Go fuck yourself," he says. "If your dick even knows how to get itself up, yet." Cadejoth's not going to make it: he's dropping back, dropping ''down''. It's a relief... it's also ''not''.

Dragon> Though the dragons may be far, though the hints may be self-serving, Iesaryth ''appreciates'' those little notes, placing them in her peripheral vision, in a larger sense of the flight. He is so helpful, Rasavyth. (To Rasavyth from Iesaryth)

Reisoth has been conserving his energy, not playing into the fighting between the males with less intelligence, focused on his goal much like his rider is focused on his. Except smarter and more patient, waiting for his opportunity to put his reserves to good use and close distance. Since N'rov doesn't see fit to make space, H'vier reaches out for Aishani herself, a hand gripping around her bicep to try jerking her out of the Fortian's grip as he growls, "This ''is'' my time. And ''my'' fucking Weyr." In the sense that it's not N'rov's, anyway.

As Riuscyth seems to lose steam, though the bronze still tries, V'teri suddenly rises, as if by standing, he can somehow give some of his unused lackadaisical energy to get his dragon to go faster, further. Or ''not''. Maybe it's more to loom behind N'rov to try and sandwich the Fort rider between him and H'vier. There's no easy grin on V'teri's face, infected, likely, by Riuscyth's territorial dislike. "Should just g'home, Fort. Go home. She's not yours tonight."

"Back ''off''," E'dre snarls at H'vier. V'teri is met with equal force and glower. He's easily towered over, being 5'7", but he's not afraid of getting in the middle of a potential fight. Fists up, face set, he's ready to go!

There's a flicker of inner conflict that leaves K'zin scowling at K'del. It's not that there weren't quippy responses ready for the remark, but too many of Rasavyth's ''helpful'' suggestions crossed lines K'zin won't cross. He forces Rasavyth's focus back to the sky, the bronze narrowly avoiding getting raked by one of the others in the pack. He uses his size and build to his advantage. He's one of the more limber bronzes owing to his small stature, and agility ''helps'' when paired with strong wingstrokes this time fuelled by enough blood to continue the chase. What K'zin settles on as a response is, "If you've learned in your ''many'' turns how to fuck yourself, you might consider enlightening the rest of us. For now, I'll focus on giving that kind of show to someone who hasn't seen it before." His eyes drift toward the goldrider. She seem the most obvious one to think of in this moment, his expression briefly nothing but lust.

I'zech doesn't even seem to realize that the gambling comment is aimed in his direction, but then he might be a touch distracted when his dark glare is met by Aishani's disgust. She's disgusted, is she? Does that matter? He jaw flexes tensely, and then, oh hey, if H'vier is going to try to pry her away from N'rov, maybe he'll just put himself in a nice position to have her handed off, stepping in closer and ready to take advantage of whatever squabble develops. If they're busy with each other... And oh, if only the situation had such clear opportunities for Rojeth, but the air is still a mess of bodies and his frustration stretches out to his wingtips, cutting through the air with little regard for whether or not he bumps or bruises anyone along the way.

Such a testosterone-laden room...even with the women in it who ride some of the browns who are chasing! J'rus finds himself smirking and grinning at the cavalcade of chest-thumping idiots all about him, the easy and self-confident brownrider pushing off the rocky wall and starting to meander among the various folk, 'Reachian or foreign. It does give him an excuse to cast his blues over Aishani's fetching form, though he's not a lech about it, like leering K'zin. As he passes the youngest bronzer and K'del, in fact, "I vote for both of you giving us a floor show right now!" Laughter...and on he mosies. As for Kadarith, he's angling off a little from the confining pack of males, rising a little, the conservation of his strength ending now that he sees the first signs of Iesaryth's faltering. It's nearly time!

That look from R'hin after K'del might have some interesting emotion in it -- but the Monacoan's busy wincing, rocking back against the wall now he's found his feet, gaze flashing distantly for a moment in reaction to his lifemate's impact with another dragon. The fear in his expression is fleeting, but definitely ''there'', and enough to keep him in place and more importantly, keep his distance, with a clenching of fists as if straining ''not'' to surge forward. How much energy does Leiventh waste on that expression of displeasure? Certainly more than is normal for the Monacoan, though Arekoth is a thought in passing as a gleam of gold restores his sense of equilibrium. Now is the time for desperate measures, and his broad wings beat faster, striving. He may be older than the majority of dragons here, but older means ''experienced'', and he angles for where Iesaryth ''will'' be.

N'rov swears near-simultaneously with Aishani, only it's because he's reaching up to his ear where... he's just pulled out a card, thanks to some unknown benefactor, and a black look reveals that it isn't even aces. Vhaeryth's following, all right, those mountains like waves he could surf, anticipating the tsunami like he ''wants'' to crash if it means crashing into her. She dips lower, but he anticipates ''higher''. Down there, there's only rock. And the occasional brown, close enough. As for N'rov, he shoots H'vier a scowl of his very own, but then E'dre steps in, and he's just laughing. "Aren't you a flight late," and he might have completed the thought, but E'dre's going to take the beefcake out, right? There's something more important. Someone more important. It's Shani he's murmuring to. "Almost there. Higher, now."

Dragon> To Iesaryth, Rasavyth isn't a stupid dragon, not even when there's that lust creating a haze of heady good-feeling. Lust doesn't rule him. He's aware as he continues to feed little details to the gold that this can back-fire on him. Giving her the insights can help her choose a dragon that ''isn't'' him, and woeful that would make him. But still, this is ''Iesaryth'' not some green that isn't worthy enough to have a choice in the matter. He's young, strong, though true, untested, but he gives her freely his knowledge of the pursuit because the storm he weathers with effort is one that if he's to survive in safety, he'd rather it be by her choice that he does so. A ''respect'' he gives to his queen, and her alone.

What's this? Wroth's dropping out? He had lasted ''so'' long and now his wings are overdrawn. He howls his frustration even as he turns his tail and descends back towards the ground. ''Home''. But E'dre can't go.. not now. And yet he's going. "Fuck you all." He leaves with that.

Dragon> To Iesaryth, Leiventh strains, reaches for her, ''wants'' her in a way that far more full of emotion and naturalness than he is normally want to do. The walls are down, and the guarded bronze is exposed while he seeks for her within the whipping wind and oceanic depths.

Though the men are getting all territorial and macho about the situation, Aishani has just gone over a line, by the way she slowly looks from H'vier's ''hand on her arm'', then back to H'vier. That ''does'' give I'zech some nice cover to put himself in a more likely position to get his hands on the goldrider... but he might think twice about that as, quick and lithe, she reaches behind her back with a flash of ''something'' in her hand as it arcs around and ''stabs'' the bronzerider in the arm as hard as she can. "Don't. Fucking. ''Touch me''." She told E'dre he'd lose a hand, maybe he's lucky. And it is indeed time for desperation as Iesaryth only has so much energy left to keep up the storm, the massive wave about to break on the shore -- the sunny queen reaches for the skies again, the moons that seemingly glow with her reflected light -- and if Shani weren't so busy stabbing people, she'd be whispering names like a litany.

K'del? He's got to be ''so'' glad he's on his way out, now: out the door and into the snowy evening. Even Cadejoth must be relieved. Life is... better when one can be alive to enjoy it.

There's blood and suddenly not-the-tallest looming bronzerider ever wobbles and faints. Maybe Riuscyth can do better up in the sky as he tries to put one last surge in, in spite of his rider's momentary pansy moment.

H'kon's attention has been drawn by the gathering machismo all around the goldrider. It's hard to say if he sees the knife, but he sees the ruckus. Distraction is only momentary, fingertips digging into the wall as Arekoth - smaller than Leiventh, and way too focused on Iesaryth and making a joke at some other bronze's expense as he dives - is sent reeling. The smallest of the remaining brownriders is done. Fingertips give one final push, he's off the wall, and skirting around the crowds for the exit. Even when his brown's pinwheeling turns into desperate attempts at altitude, wings clashing with a nearby dragon's as he tries to make the most of his accidental trajectory, and gropes at that gold thing he only just saw out the corner of his eye, a piercing call issuing from his throat.

K'zin is probably suddenly glad that he was picking fights with ''local'' bronzeriders instead of the prettyboy from Fort. And his ''vicious'' lover. In point of fact, though. the knife and the blood have K'zin stepping ''back'' toward the wall. He looks ''completely uncertain'' about the prospect of approaching ''that'' goldrider with lust in his loins. He'd like all the important bits to ''still be there'' come morning. Too bad for K'zin that his ''dragon'' is certain. If K'zin has to sacrifice use of his manhood for Rasavyth to have his ''moment'' shining (literally, she's glowy!) with Iesaryth, that's a chance he's willing to take. He makes his move, maneuvering between a lagging brown and a burlier bronze to sweep toward his queen and reach for her, ''offering'' himself for ''her'' choice.

<OOC> V'teri says, "Lust in his loins."

<OOC> H'kon says, "Please, if you catch, do a 'throbbing meatroll' line or somesuch."

N'rov says, "Of luv."

<OOC> N'rov says, "OOC, that."

Dragon> To Rasavyth, Iesaryth doesn't indicate whether this will sway her decision or ''not'', but she will certainly ''take'' all that information, interested as always, but now, in this moment, she accepts it as her due. If such tribute is worthy, well. That will be decided in the moment.

<OOC> K'del says, "Hot meatroll injection."

<OOC> V'teri says, "And please keep that completely not OOC line in the log."

His poor, beautiful muscles! It doesn't process ''immediately'' that there is a knife in his arm - who the fuck expects that! - and that brief moment gives him just enough time for a reflexive back of his hand to swing toward the goldrider before the ''pain'' takes over any other thoughts he might have wanted to have. H'vier stumbles backwards, grasping for his arm to cover the gush of blood. Probably a ''good'' thing he didn't come here drunk. Somehow this doesn't cause Reisoth as much distress as it probably could. There's an angry scream from the usually silent bronze before he's surging toward the gold. It's hard to tell if he wants to catch her or hurt her right now, though. Maybe both?

That is... well, apparently, frankly hilarious. Especially since R'hin is safely over ''here'' and not within range of the goldrider and her now-bloodied knife. The alcohol-fueled glaze makes everything more funny, it would seem -- and doesn't he look mature and experienced by comparison? Well, maybe he would if it weren't for the white-knuckled fists, and, well, the grimace given his once-mentee V'teri. Though exhaustion is likely creeping up on the angular Monacoan bronze, ''she'' goes upwards, and he is drawn inexorably in her wake, despite his miscalculation. Leiventh strains towards the heights, determined enough to barrel through any who are slower in his path towards Iesaryth.

<OOC> K'zin shakes his lusty loins in the direction of the other chasers (maybe I can get them to flee in terror before the end!)

<OOC> R'hin says, "K'del would love to receive you! ''pushes him out in front''"

<OOC> K'del says, "Wait, what?"

Holy shit! Aishani's stabbity-stabbing someone?!? ''That'' fact - noticed on his stroll-by - cools J'rus's growing ardor some, the brownrider's eyes widening, his grin wiped off his face when H'vier reacts to his second blooding via a female rider during a gold flight. Kadarith's completely devoted to catching Iesaryth at this point, however, overrides his rider's desire to withdraw from this den of wild felines, the big brown trying to cut off tiring Leiventh in order that ''he'' might snatch the glowy gold in his charcoal claws. Youth over old age!

Dragon> That difference, that openness is tested, tasted, different... appreciated. Reaching higher, Iesaryth's indecision is palpable as the wave is about to break; this will not be a mistake. (To Leiventh from Iesaryth)

Here's the fun thing about knives: when they're in some other dude's arm, they are less likely to be in your own. And so yes, I'zech will take advantage of the moment, whether because he thinks he's capable of dealing with a knife-wielding goldrider or because he doesn't think at all. As Rojeth uses talons to push off some neighboring bronze, making a final lurch for a ride on the cresting wave that is Iesaryth, I'zech reaches for Aishani, her name murmured, low and seething, as his hands aim for her hips to try to pull her back against him, whether she's his to pull or not. Needless to say, he's not thinking much about how anyone else is fairing, or how easily she could probably swing that knife around and get him right in the gut.

N'rov didn't get stabbed. N'rov didn't get stabbed. N'rov didn't get stabbed, this time. His sudden, sharp laugh might as well be applause, at least until there's that backhand, and instinctively he shoves his way to try and intercept it before it can touch his girl... even if she still probably has more knives than he does. Even if there's still I'zech, on the other side. It's a distraction that Vhaeryth can ill afford, though the remaining Fortian's spurred on by the way she's risen after all, seeking to meet her after all. Crash ''here''.

Dragon> He predicted. She's coming. Crash here. He won't break. But is it that clever is as clever does? (To Iesaryth from Vhaeryth)

It's pretty easy for I'zech to get a hold of Aishani, given H'vier's backhand glances off the side of her head, partially thanks to that ''shove'' of N'rov's -- better than her ''face'', even if she's reeling. Even if she's dropped the bloodied knife, which is a plus for anyone who wants to survive the night. As she cries out in wordless fury, every muscle in her body is tensed to ''launch'' at the big bronzerider again, barehanded. She'd probably manage it if I'zech's hands weren't holding her hips, if she weren't still dizzy, if Iesaryth didn't need to take all her attention and breath away in one last gasp to dodge Leiventh and Riuscyth, abandoned by his rider; especially Arekoth and now, Reisoth; avoid Kadarith and Rojeth and Rasavyth. The queen doesn't slow for any of them, instead flying nearly full-speed, into Vhaeryth, waiting above.

Riuscyth shrieks when the gold evades him for his ''son''. Not that he remembers that. It's not like his rider's in any state to remember either, prone as he is on the floor of the guest weyr.

Dragon> He did, and she does. The wave breaks finally, but it won't ''drown'' him -- not with her. Not together. (To Vhaeryth from Iesaryth)

A throaty, unhappy growl issues from Kadarith's maw when he misses his chance at nabbing lovely Iesaryth - and to a foreign dragon, at that! - the big brown simply continuing on and down past the mating pair above, spiralling towards the lake, where he can cool his heels. As for his rider, all is not lost. J'rus is rarely even in want of a happily willing bedmate. But before his admittedly relieved departure, the muscular young man steps over to passed-out V'teri, sighs, and squats down to scoop him up and carry the daft bronzer off to the infirmary for treatment. Why must it always be duty before fun?

A moment of rage, denied, has I'zech digging his fingers fiercely into Aishani's hips, as if some force of will and the bite of his grasp could undo the reality that has taken place in the sky. But it can't. And so the grip becomes a rough shove, not caring at all where it leaves the goldrider. I'zech and Rojeth will have to get their kicks somewhere else tonight.

Kadarith's cut past Leiventh arrests the Monacoan's speed enough to deter him, if momentarily; when he resumes, if slower, Iesaryth is already wrapped up in the wings of another. There's no sound of disappointment, just a shift of weight and a downward, steady dive for the ground. R'hin's moving moments later, his fingers finally releasing from their curled ball, exiting quickly without a backward glance.

Rasavyth's disappointment is silent as he sinks from the sky, his normally open mind walling off from the world. K'zin? He heads out, following on the heels of the Telgari bronzerider he showed in. If he looks a little relieved in the end, who can blame him after the bloodshed?

Dragon> ''Together''. All the better to see fish instead of stars. (To Iesaryth from Vhaeryth)

''Finally''. If she's shoved, at least this time it's into him. At least this time ''they'', the four of them, can win.

{{#ifexist: Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}} | <hr><hr><br><h2>Comments</h2>{{Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}}}} |<hr><hr>}}

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<comments />

Logs talk:Rumour Has It

2013-07-29T04:00:17Z

D'kan: Comment provided by D'kan - via ArticleComments extension

<noinclude>Comments on "[[Logs:Rumour Has It]]"
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[[D'kan/Comments|D'kan]] ([[User:D'kan|D'kan]] ([[User talk:D'kan|talk]])) left a comment on Mon, 29 Jul 2013 04:00:17 GMT.

<comment date="2013-07-29T04:00:17Z" name="D'kan" signature="[[User:D&#39;kan|D&#39;kan]] ([[User talk:D&#39;kan|talk]])">
Catty is just so appropriate sometimes.
</comment>

Logs talk:A Round And A Talk

2013-07-29T03:10:24Z

D'kan: Comment provided by D'kan - via ArticleComments extension

<noinclude>Comments on "[[Logs:A Round And A Talk]]"
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[[D'kan/Comments|D'kan]] ([[User:D'kan|D'kan]] ([[User talk:D'kan|talk]])) left a comment on Mon, 29 Jul 2013 03:10:23 GMT.

<comment date="2013-07-29T03:10:23Z" name="D'kan" signature="[[User:D&#39;kan|D&#39;kan]] ([[User talk:D&#39;kan|talk]])">
Woo! Gotta love reconciliation, right? And communication? And dancing! There needs to be more dancing.
</comment>

Logs:First Looks

2013-07-25T20:56:31Z

D'kan: Icon switch

{{ Log
| who = Aukiri, D'kan
| where = Feeding Pens, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Kiri has a blanket. D'kan has a Kazavoth. Everyone gets hungry at some point.
| when = Day 2, Month 5, Turn 32
| gamedate = 2013.07.24
| quote = Got a thing for leather?
| weather = A layer of patchy clouds covers the sky. The air feels cool and damp, but there is no rainfall today.
| categories =
| mentions =
| ooc =
| icons = aukiri.jpg, d'kan wut.jpg, d'kan_kaz.jpg
| log = Feeding Grounds, High Reaches Weyr<br>
Wedged between the lake and the rest of the vast bowl are the dusty feeding grounds. Here, the well-trampled ground is contained by a sturdy wooden fence, cutting right through one end of the lake to section it off into a muddy watering hole for the animals. Several gates allow people in and out, while at the back, large overhangs of rock provide the herd -- a mixed bag of herdbeasts, wing-clipped wherries, and fat porcines -- shelter from storms or the hot sun. What grass survives is usually bloodstained, but feeding troughs are stationed around the edges of the pen.
----

The Weyr's stores are lean, and Kiri's the new guy, but not all items of worth have been claimed. Though then again, worth is somewhat a subjective thing, isn't it? And for how chuffed the young man is looking with the threadbare, stained-on-the-corner, definitely-faded, green-and-purple striped blanket about his shoulders to keep off the humid chill, this was possibly one of the biggest scores ever. Except maybe for getting the night off to get up close and personal with the Weyr's dragons. Or, up closer. And when that green swoops to strike, his head jerks back of its own accord, and he laughs, and even applauds.

Kazavoth lands a short distance from the pens and waits long enough for D'kan to dismount and begin removing the brown's riding straps. These straps are then looped over the rider's shoulders in a neat but heavy burden while the dragon steps toward the pens, delicately stepping over the fence. There he waits, until the green has settled down, eventually taking to the skies to spy out a meal of his own. In the meantime, the rider has made his way to the edge of the fence, where he loops the riding straps over a post and begins to watch and wait. Aukiri is glanced at briefly, then Kaz, then back to the teen. "Is she yours?" he asks, only mildly puzzled as he does the usual shoulder-check for knots.

Whatever knots might have been there, maybe even are, are or would certainly be obscured by that horrific blanket. Schrodinger's knots. "She?" His nose is barely wrinkled before he puts two and two together. The green gets a glance, and Kiri shakes his head with an, "Oh! Oh, no. Don't even know her name," is a bit sly. D'kan's shoulder gets attention too, but for an altogether different reason. "Dragon straps?"

D'kan nods quickly in answer to the question about straps, then goes about leaning on the fence, arms draped loosely over the top rail while a boot is hitched onto the bottom. "That's Kazavoth up there," he says by way of introduction. "Not sure about the green. I don't want to distract him to ask, or he'll never get around to eating." He leans back enough to hold out a hand, then. "I'm D'kan."

"Kiri," answers in time to the seizing and shaking of the brownrider's hand. Then, Aukiri is shaking his hand free, but leaving it extended, with green-purple drapery and all. "Can I see those?" A shoulder-check, but this one over his own, to the brown. "Kazavoth," back to D'kan, "like that," and still expectantly reaching. Hoping. Smiling.

"See the... straps?" D'kan asks, clarifying. He hefts the looped leather to the next post over and gestures for the young man to have at it. "These are still the last set from weyrlinghood. Getting a little worn in places, but still sound enough to get me from our weyr down the ground. Wouldn't want any weight on the carrying straps, though." He looks up again, where Kazavoth seems to have picked out some likely quarry. His circling takes on a definite curve, then he begins the dive. Sure enough, one of the mid-sized herdbeasts ends up in his dark talons, and with a twist and a crunch, the animal goes limp while the brown glides to an unoccupied section of the pens.

Aukiri almost does a bow, the way his nod of gratitude and lunge for the straps come at once. While he sets to examining them, fingers running long across the leather, and then fiddling with the buckle bits, he carries on conversing. "So you guys have to be from that last clutch - clutches? - do you count them together or separate?" He barely catches Kazavoth's movement in time to look up, but sees enough to warrant another wince, and then another laugh, mostly delighted, slightly uncomfortable.

At first, D'kan frowns, puzzled at the question about clutches. Then he laughs, shortly after Aukiri's uncomfortable delight. "You know, I haven't even thought about that since... well, maybe since they hatched. The dragons don't entirely seem to pay attention to lineage, so I guess I stopped, too. Felt like all the same clutch." He goes back to leaning, watching while Kazavoth admires his kill, slowly hunching over it to eat in relative private, wings spreading slightly, lifting. "You're new to the Weyr?"

Aukiri seems almost to have run out of words, simply offering D'kan a satisfied nod, and testing at buckling and unbuckling the straps on the fence, a time or two. Eventually, he even stops watching the brown, and goes back to those straps. "Yeah. Making it that obvious, huh?" A smile is sped along with a sidelong look. When his green-and-purple blanket slips, he takes his hand from Kazavoth's straps, in order to catch it and re-adjust it. "They're just impressive." The shrug might have dislodged the blanket anew, if not for the fact that Kiri's still holding onto it.

D'kan grins, if a little crookedly, following Aukiri's last comment. "The dragons or the strap?" he asks, possibly teasing, possibly just clarifying again. He gives the brown a long look, though all that's visible from here is his back, wings, and tail. After a pause, he adds, "Naivanth. That's the green." He turns back to Aukiri, grinning more. "Now you know her name. So! Kiri. What brings you here? Got a thing for leather? Certainly enough of it around a Weyr," D'kan states, gaze falling to the riding straps a moment, then back to the teen.

"Oh, the dragons," Kiri responds quite promptly, dismissing the straps with a wave of his hand. And if he thinks better of it, he makes no apology but to shrug, adjust his blanket, and find a lean on the fence, the bundle of leather between him and the rider. "Trader caravan," he corrects. "I was the leather guy, sort of. Did some tanning before. Guess any of those could've brought me here, depending how you look at it." That shared, he muses, "Naivanth," idly and under his breath.

D'kan nods a few times to acknowledge the new information. "Pretty good reasons, all around." He crosses his arm over the top rail and watches Kazavoth for a long moment. The brown has moved on enough that he's walking slowly around the carcass, nipping here, tearing there. From this distance at least, it's all rather silent. For Aukiri's sake, D'kan doesn't share what it's like in his head. "Looking to stay, or moving on with the traders?" The rider turns back, his level of curiosity mild in both tone and expression. "All sorts of work around here, that's for sure. Especially now."

"Looking to ''look''," Kiri decides after almost no consideration. The blanket is shrugged up so that a fold turns into a collar, sitting high enough to brush right at the back of his head where it's roundest. "I saw the tanner, the other day. Well, found him, more like. Skilled hands, right?" His left palm is shown to D'kan, helpfully, as evidence. Clearly much can be told from such an inspection. "I've gone with the Razzies for a full loop. Weird how things can be so the same when you're moving all the time, sometimes."

D'kan makes a "hmmmm" sort of sound after Aukiri's last, contemplating the statement as he watches Kazavoth start the "clean-up" phase of his meal. Eventually, only the bones, what's left of the hide, and some of the least savory parts of the carcass will be left behind for someone else to clear away. "I've... never really moved around much, so I'll have to take your word for it. Lived at High Reaches Hold. Came here for a time. Found him," with a chin jut toward Kazavoth. "Been here ever since." He picks at a loose bit of something on the railing, then flings it into the pen wit ha flick of a finger. "You want to study with the tanner? Or just like the work?"

"Razzies go through the Hold," Kiri offers. "Buy things, sell things, trade things, same as anywhere I guess." There's a bit of a grin playing at his face when he looks over to Kazavoth again. "How hard to do you have to look for something that big, huh? Even when they're little, sure they can't be ''that'' little." He rubs his head against his blanket-collar, to scratch, to test it's still there, either way. "I did some study with tanners a few turns back. How I got to be the leather guy. And here."

"Stick around long enough, you'll see how little they are in the beginning," D'kan offers with another grin. In the pen, Kazavoth is almost delicately licking any trace remains of the herdbeast from his muzzle, then inspecting the talons of each paw, one by one. When he's satisfied, he begins to approach his rider and Aukiri, the recently living herdbeast nothing but a pile of skin and bones now. Kaz doesn't give it another glance, his interest piqued instead by the new face. D'kan just watches him approach, then gives the trader/tanner guy a side glance. "Uh... if he... ''speaks'' to you?" the rider says, dropping his voice while nodding his head toward the brown, "just let me know if it's... too... weird, loud... whatever. He likes to talk to everyone. Not everyone likes to hear it, that's all."

Aukiri lifts up a hand to rough up some of his hair, giving an easy smile for that prospect, too. "Now that's something worth it too. Never seen that." Kazavoth gets eyed up, first appreciatively, then with wider eyes. "I thought they didn't speak to strangers." Squaring up his shoulders this time doesn't manage to overly disrupt his blanket-cloak. He waits. "All the other ones seem quiet enough."

D'kan can only laugh after the bit about strangers. He gives the brown a wry smile, then shakes his head. "Kazavoth is anything but quiet." This is followed by the dragon stopping just far enough away so when he lowers his head to peer at the boy, he's close enough to breathe warm air toward him. Warm air tinted by recently consumed raw herdbeast. For several seconds, the dragon studies Aukiri, first from one eye, then the other, then both as he draws his head back slightly. At least, he looks to D'kan briefly, then begins moving to a space where he can step over the fence. "Then again, maybe today is a quiet day." It seems the brown is headed toward the lake, which means D'kan can turn around to lean back against the fence. He reaches for the riding straps but doesn't pick them up just yet.

Dragon> Nearly whisper quiet, and hollow as if by distance, a stray though filters toward your consciousness, not invading so much as passing by. There might be a tickling sensation somewhere along your scalp, a cool touch, then a sense of spiced liquor that is nowhere within sight. << The blanket, >> speaks the voice, dry and muted. << You wear it well. >> Just as gently as the thought arrived, it also leaves, extracting itself tendril by tendril until the only aroma left is the lingering memory. (To Aukiri from Kazavoth)

Relief turns, in very short order, to disappointment - but then, the two probably aren't all that distantly related. From holding cautiously still and forcing himself not to blink under dragon inspection, Aukiri goes to easing against the fence once more. And scooches back a step when it seems D'kan is getting ready to take those straps. "Maybe. Think I'll stay here a bit long-" the 'er' is naturally drowned out, and elaboration on 'here' never comes. There's a short delay, and then, "Is the Snowasis place really the best spot to go for a drink?"

With narrowed eyes, D'kan shifts his attention from Aukiri to Kazavoth, then back again, suspicion evident when he looks to the dragon, curiosity when it's back to the teen. "Uh... Snowasis. Yeah, pretty much. I mean--." He breaks off briefly to heave the leather to his shoulder. "You can usually get a glass of wine or something in the main living cavern at meal times, but if it's something specific..." He gestures with his head, indication he'll be heading toward the bowl rather than angling toward the lake like the brown. "Food's pretty good, too. Kinda peckish myself, after what Kaz just put me through." He laughs, then, and shakes his head. "Weird, probably, but there you have it. My treat?" Regardless of whether Aukiri follows, D'kan begins walking toward that section of the bowl that holds the local tavern, while in the distance, Kazavoth is already sliding into the Weyr's chilly lake.

"I don't know," Kiri shrugs, acceptance of the offer in his leaving of the fence, "a guy can get hungry even dunking the hides of dead things in piss." So he heads along with the rider, fidgetting with the blanket as he goes, until he's once again acquired a collar, and some sort of sleeves out of it. Kazavoth gets one last look, and Kiri makes a face, thinking hard at the dragon, but even going a little cross-eyed won't always make first contact work. No, D'kan's much easier to talk to.

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Logs:When to Hold 'Em

2013-07-23T08:12:34Z

D'kan: I fail at dates. IC or OOC.

{{ Log
| who = D'kan, D'kan{{!}}Kazavoth, Telavi{{!}}Solith, Telavi
| where = Crom Area
| what = Clutchmates take a break after completing their tasks for the day.
| when = Day 24, Month 4, Turn 32
| gamedate = 2013.07.22
| quote = "'Me, me, no me! Agh, backstab! How could you?!'"
| weather = Rainy and grey.
| categories = General, Clutch 34
| mentions = Devaki, Edeline, Issedi, Ustelan
| ooc =
| icons = d'kan bemused.jpg, d'kan kaz buhbye.jpg, telavi solith branching.jpg, telavi.jpg
| log = With members of the Minecraft safely delivered back to the Crom Hold area, two of High Reaches' riders, so recently wingmates, find themselves with a free evening away from the distractions of the Weyr. While the rain seems to have slacked off finally, the darkening sky is still in various shades of gloomy grey, but D'kan watches those skies nonetheless while out in the courtyard, Kazavoth stretches his wings, post-flight. He's been slowly tugging off slightly soggy gloves, adding them to the rest of the damp riding gear accumulating inside his handy helmet. "Not quite up for jumping right back home," he announces, looking around for Telavi. "Want to sit for a bit? It's just nice to have a change of scenery."

"If the sitting is ''indoors''," Telavi qualifies from by Solith's shoulder, eyeing those skies with disfavor. She's kept her helmet on, its shallow brim's shadow further greying out her features. "This one has a 'sit around and thaw' area, doesn't it? I remember for last time, it surprised me because it's not like this place is one of the really large holds," except most of that is said on the move, after the beckon that accompanies her purposeful walk to the portico. Double doors, their metal pitted with age but kept polished, guard the entrance above the first of several thick mats. ''Solith'' doesn't seem to mind the damp air, at least yet, going up on her haunches to peek in one of the third-story windows that had been left unshuttered.

Kazavoth, intrigued by Solith's peeking, moves over to add his own brown head to her green, his own body hunched slightly, due to the difference in sizes. D'kan's only response to their actions is to smirk slightly before he moves to follow Telavi inside. "Never been inside here before," he shares, helmet dangling from one hand while he starts to undo the buttons of his jacket. "Been inside the main Hold, though." Because this is somehow critical information. The last button is dealt with, followed by pulling of the material away slightly. "Man, I am so sick of this rain," D'kan mutters darkly, nodding to a couple Miner journeyman on their way outside. "I'm up to four sets of riding gear now, just to keep up with all the drills. Do you guys drill a lot?"

Dragon> The damp, muddy surroundings are washed away with an ethereal sweep of thought, replaced by piqued curiosity that swirls along the edges, slowly reaching toward the center of the link. << Is there someone there? >> he asks, voice hushed, as if any inhabitants might be able to hear him. Then again, knowing Kaz, maybe they could. (To Solith from Kazavoth)

Telavi glances this way and that as she wipes her boots, already removing her own helmet to expose braids as tidy as they'd ever been in weyrlinghood-- only now she doesn't immediately replace it with a cap instead. She hasn't looked back at their dragons, only ahead, nodding him down the tiled corridor. "''Four''. Impressive. But no," this last said as she finally does glance back but at him this time, right before she passes past a tapestry and into a warmer cavern, "I'm still in Cirrus." It would make for a more dramatic exit note, perhaps, if she didn't hold the tapestry so that it doesn't fall in his face before proceeding just as abruptly towards the hearth that's there. "Anything growing between your toes yet?"

Dragon> She answers him back just as intangibly, a ''freshness'' even before he's swept that dankness away. << I ''think'' so. >> Quick to peek, she's not slow to share the view, the gaps between two dragons' heads possibly even allowing more light within that just one. The ''sound'' carries too, or would have done if the girl in that small chamber hadn't seen Solith already and come to a stop. Maybe all of ten or eleven, she has a small three-stringed instrument across her lap and a crooked-tooth smile on her lips, the latter starting to become more of a gape of disbelief. << Is she scared now? >> Solith, a trifle concerned. (To Kazavoth from Solith)

After a murmur of thanks for the tapestry holding, D'kan follows Telavi toward the hearth. "Still? As if you needed more polish or something," he jokes, though it likely sounded better in his head. "As for my toes, I'd like to announce that down at the Hold, they taught us early on to keep clean, dry socks on hand. Especially on the docks. All it takes is seeing one guy lose a foot..." He trails off, leaving the story there. No need for gory details, right? He starts to arrange his gear so it's hanging over the sides of his helmet or over some chair rungs, then drapes his riding jacket over the back of the chair he eventually claims.

Dragon> Consternation blends with curiosity, dark brown flecks marring an otherwise clear wash of gold and green. << I don't know, >> he replies in a hush as he pushes his dark muzzle closer to the window. The change from that short statement to the next is subtle, but the projection has altered somewhat. << Hello, >> he booms, child-ward, tone meant to be soothing and friendly. Oh well. (To Solith from Kazavoth)

Telavi pushes out a breath, somewhere between a sigh and a snort, and turns her head towards the brownrider with what ''might'' have been a roll of her eyes if it hadn't immediately transformed into fascination. "Lose a foot, really? Was it," she gestures vaguely in the air, "toe by toe, or all at once from the skin out, or what?" The question of those ''details'' even slows her down in taking care of her own gear, though when she borrows a chair for her own jacket, it's so she can slide it in front of the hearth and thereby steal at least a little more of its warmth. Nor does she sit right away, but instead roams about the room, taking a look at the various paintings and heavy tapestries and the like.

Dragon> As he pushes forward, Solith draws her own narrow muzzle back with a flurry of breeze, but not so far back that the green can't ''look''. The girl squeaks. "Auntie? Auntie!" Her eyes are bulging and she only saves the instrument from falling at the very last second as she turns for the hallway. If anyone wants to sink back and try to look innocent, now would be the time. (To Kazavoth from Solith)

"He let the rot set in," D'kan begins, making his own inspection of the area from his spot in the chair, "and distrusted Healers. So... all around, his own sharding fault." He leans back while stretching his own feet toward the hearth, then glances over at Telavi. "Want to try out a game or two of cards? Just got a new deck, when I was down at Fort a few days ago. I've been wanting to break it in."

Dragon> << Oh dear. >> It's said in a quiet rush as Kazavoth does indeed draw back to all four paws, very carefully moving away from the building with almost feline-like grace. Meant to do that. Totally. << I do believe, Solith, that ''now'' she is scared. >> (To Solith from Kazavoth)

Glancing back over her shoulder, "Do you trust healers?" Telavi has to ask once she's done wrinkling her nose for that ''rot''. "Or do you just count on socks? And sure, though I have to warn you, I'm no better at it than I was last time we talked. You'll have to..." a noise at the tapestry has her crossing over, then exchanging low words with the woman beyond before turning back in relief. "Good, they won't kick us out." But then, have they heard about the dragons yet?

Dragon> That makes two of them, Solith arranging herself in the courtyard like a loaf of bread that just happens to have wings and a long neck attached. She may ''peek'' at the window they abandoned, but it's just out of the corner of one eye. << She should learn better, >> Solith decides, switching just the tip of her tail back and forth. << ''You'' would not hurt her. It is only that you are big. >> And loud. And... faces at the window now, the girl and an older woman who doesn't even have grey hair yet, though she might after today given how the girl's tugging at her sleeve. Only the woman's voice is audible as words beneath the girl's higher explanation, and even that's half-audible: "...don't see... look, just... be making things up," this with a tug at the girl's ear. (To Kazavoth from Solith)

At the question, D'kan frowns slightly, then shrugs one shoulder. "With Healer stuff, sure. With other stuff, no more or less than anyone else. What about you?" Though his own question ends with a minor note of distraction as he checks in, presumably, with Kazavoth. Whatever that exchange, it makes him frown again, though that is all. "I don't mind. All the more reason to play a few hands, right?" Following that brief distraction, D'kan is cheerfully eager to move on to the cards, which he removes from one of his jacket's inside pockets, which also gives him a chance to relocate the chair closer to the cozy fire before he chooses another with a handy little table nearby. Better for shuffling.

Dragon> D'kan reaches along the mindlink to touch gently, as if taking Kazavoth's pulse. The presence remains, activity familiar, thought polite but inquisitive. There are no words, but the intent is clear. Just checking in. (D'kan to Kazavoth)

Dragon> << I was merely trying to be ''friendly'', >> Kazavoth insists, bewilderment vying with annoyance for the girl's reaction. << You would think she had never seen one of us before! >> he adds while pricks of bright orange swirl rapidly through the gold-tinted green of his eyes. << Or heard! Maybe if I sang to her, >> he adds, trailing off to ponder. << They are silly, >> the brown concludes in a quiet, dark voice. << This ''place'' is silly. Do they not know who we ''are''? >> (To Solith from Kazavoth)

Dragon> Kazavoth allows and even welcomes the intrusion, and while he is not exactly ''hiding'' anything from D'kan, there is surely no need to share images of the panicked girl, right? Or... what preceded that panic? << D'kan, >> Kaz drawls in his light, almost scratchy tenor. << It is very muddy out here. No weyrs. No couches. How do they stand it? >> (Kazavoth to D'kan)

Dragon> While D'kan isn't nearly the natural at the mindlink that his 'mate is, he is still able to express his love-tinted amusement while the mental touch grows briefly warm. Before he retreats, there is an unspoken promise to visit somewhere warm and dry next time. Then his half of the link goes quiet and still. (D'kan to Kazavoth)

Tela waits until she's settled into the second chair at that table to answer, agreeing, "For Healer things. It's just some of them can be such ''know-it-alls'' about everything else too," but she says it lightly, a quirk to her mouth. More important is getting a better look at the cards, seeing what's different. "Do yours have any interesting faces painted on them? What made you pick that particular deck, do you like the design or was it cheap or...?" There's no checking in with Solith, not visibly anyway, her attention staying on the cards and what he does with them.

Dragon> Of course he was! Solith doesn't question that one bit. << I think, >> she decides all at once, << she would rather be ''right'' than not-scared, or not-spooked, or whatever it is. Of course they do not know who we are, we have not told them. Let me try. >> She rarely if ever seems to consciously display herself, but now the green dragon curls her neck, tilting her head just so towards the window with those big bright eyes that just happen to be whirling faster under the strength of Kazavoth's influence. Hers is a soft, unassuming warble, close to a croon, but a dragon's all the same. (To Kazavoth from Solith)

"True enough," D'kan admits, regarding healers, "though some of them at least have kind of earned the right. Sort of. Can't stand the 'expert on everything under the sun' types, though. I'm pretty sure misinformation should fall somewhere under their 'do no harm' credo." He removes the new cards from their small, wooden carrying case, which is slipped back into the jacket. Before he starts shuffling them, he starts separating the suits in case Telavi wants a closer look. "Commissioned this deck," he explains. There's a small note of pride in his voice, but it's subtle. "It's our Holds. The four suits are High Reaches, Tillek, Crom and Nabol. They... didn't know quite what to do with Tillek, I think, so the Holder and Heir are kind of vague. But the Lady is totally Edeline. And--" He pauses, shifting to High Reaches' cards, "That's totally Devaki and family. See how the Heir is still just a kid?" Yeah, he might just get into this stuff a little bit.

Dragon> << Ooooh, >> is at first Kazavoth's only reply, kept quiet so as not to intrude upon the croon. Moments later, he follows with, << Very nice, Solith! >> while sitting back on his haunches to stare at the window once more. Eagerness thrums slightly, but for once, he remains otherwise silent, just watching and listening. And perhaps waiting to find out what happens next. (To Solith from Kazavoth)

'Sort of' gets a quick, bright smile from Telavi, followed by, "It ''should''. But has one really ever given you wrong advice? A healer, if no one else," but it's a brief question, easy to overlook for the deck. The ''deck''. "What a predicament," she says, looking away from the deck only to check her fingertips and then finally rub them against her trousers, just in case, up high where they'd been protected by her jacket. "But it's like saving a place in time, isn't it? Because later it will be different... and the kid, too, the kid will grow up," and she glances up at him, checking to see whether it's all right to touch. Even though he'd ''suggested'' some rounds, earlier. "What did you have them do with the Weyrwomen?"

Dragon> His eagerness, his praise, they turn Solith's eyes bluer and even out what could have been an erratic whirl, though they're just as quick as before. Hesitantly, the girl waves. The auntie waves. And then... then, the shutters ''slam''. (To Kazavoth from Solith)

"Yeah, exactly!" D'kan replies, looking pretty pleased. "It's okay, a piece of history. And Turns from now, if the deck is still around, it'd be easy to show who all held those seats, and kind of what they looked like, and... well." His smile goes both crooked and sheepish. "I guess I just enjoy it. Which is the point, so please, pick up the cards," he insists, holding the deck toward Telavi. "The Weyrwomen are in another deck. Sometimes the cards are really specific, but these are just painted differently. And they're just a senior apprentice's work, so... don't feel like they're totally precious or anything. Just cards." He leans back, dark eyes twinkling as he tries and fails to hide a crooked grin. "Guess I could have requested the kid include jokers. But it really wouldn't have been too tasteful to use riders for that. Or anyone, really. No idea who he ''did'' use for the jokers. Don't usually play with them, anyway."

Dragon> Kazavoth lets out a quick, hearty snort as those shutters close. He settles back down to all four paws, then hunkers down into a brown bread loaf similar to Solith's prior green. << As if they have any room to criticize, >> the brown rumbles while inky swirls darken his half of the mindlink. << Weak minded and... and... >> The ink fades to a grey wash as he searches for just the right insult. << And tiny. >> Because size matters. (To Solith from Kazavoth)

Watching D'kan, Telavi listens with clear fascination and more than one nod, too, but it's how his smile ''changes'' that makes her dimples show... right before she steals that deck right up. She riffles gladly through them, teasing, "So we can play with a meatroll in one hand and a... well, a hand in the other?" More seriously and a little more slowly, even as she pauses to compare a pair of cards, "It makes me wonder, well, maybe not the first time, how much people really did look like the pictures that got made of them. At least the ones that go on walls, they're larger so there's space, but here, someone has to be clever to make the resemblance show when there's not much room. What's your other deck like? Other than having Weyrwomen, I mean."

Dragon> Solith settles back, more or less, but there goes her tail again, and more like a twitch this time. << And small is bad. >> The breeze, just now, may not have ''darkened'' exactly but, much like the grey wash, it's none too fresh. (To Kazavoth from Solith)

"Pretty generic," D'kan answers, settling back comfortably while Telavi inspects the cards. "I bought the first deck off a Trader. The stock their on is good, but the painting is... only serviceable. I wanted something nicer." His eyes go vague again, but only briefly. Checking in with Kazavoth tends to be a fairly regular thing, quickly done. "Some of the really good ones are just about spot on. As good as a portrait. Depends on the Harper, though. Some just have the knack. I think the guy who made these might head that direction."

Dragon> << ''Small'' is not bad, >> Kazavoth insists, clarifying, attempting to cut through the dark and dank. << ''Tiny''. Like their heads. And the tiny brains they must hold. What I leave ''Between'' is bigger than their tiny brains. >> Ever elegant. << And children seem to have the tiniest brains of all. Which is why I chose D'kan. He was not a child. >> (To Solith from Kazavoth)

"Ahh." Telavi flexes a card, sees how comfortably it bends. "And then if he does, you'll have 'known him when'... These will soften up, won't they? Or get more bendy, anyway." She drops her voice considerably to wonder, "I wonder how much longer Lord Ustelan will be about." And now Tela's corrupting the poor deck, removing the requisite cards so that the Ustelan card can say in a scratchy voice, "'Hmm, I wonder which heir I should pick!'" while the heir cards borrowed from the various suits respond, "'Me, me, no me! Agh, backstab! How could you?!'"

Dragon> With his insistence, things lighten up somewhat, at least on Solith's part. ''Somewhat''. << Oh, >> she says. << Better, >> and wraps her wings about her in a way that makes her not ''quite'' so small, not that she's tiny precisely, except by comparison. Still, << The girl was not ''much'' tinier. >> (To Kazavoth from Solith)

D'kan's expression remains somewhat neutral as Telavi begins role-playing with the various cards, though his round cheeks get a little rounder, and his dark eyes get a little more twinkly. "Well, you don't want them ''too'' soft. They'll fray," he replies while reclaiming the ones that are not currently vying for Ustelan's knot. The deck is further corrupted as he begins to shuffle them from one hand to the other. "You ''do'' want them to get nicely polished, though, so they don't stick. Only way to do that is to play." He goes quiet for a few seconds, the only sounds the ones from the cards. "I don't know which I prefer. The odd maneuvering that is Hold politics, or... the Weyr brand. Though it sounds like 'Reaches' situation isn't exactly standard fare."

Dragon> Kazavoth's skepticism about the size of that frightened girl is evident both in posture and mindvoice, though he doesn't not otherwise vocalize his opinion. He shifts somewhat, his own wings held tightly against his body, tail curled around dark, speckled haunches. << Why did you choose your rider? >> he asks, switching to a thread from the previous thoughts. << Do you recall? It is hard to think about old things sometimes, is it not? >> (To Solith from Kazavoth)

"'Polished.' Does that involve skin oils? Because I never thought of cards quite that way before." When Telavi offers the cards back to D'kan, she does so with Ustelan still walking tall and proud on two of his corners, followed by his entourage of would-be heirs. "Hold or Weyr?" she asks of High Reaches, somewhat wry. "Do you know if you'd prefer a Crafthall's? They must have maneuvering of their own. And is it helpful to know what we'd rather have, if what we have, well, ''is'' what we have?" Something about her timbre suggests that ''she'd'' have at least half an answer already, yet hasn't quite committed.

Dragon> It meets with a hint of clearer air wafting by, ever so transparently pleased-- such skepticism, but also such restraint!-- at least until it's touched with a hint of turbulence. Choice? Choosing? Remembering? << She has always been my rider, >> Solith says finally, hesitantly. (To Kazavoth from Solith)

D'kan's answer to Hold or Weyr is to offer a quiet, dry laugh. Likely answer enough, really. "No, I've never understood crafts." He takes the strangler cards and shuffles them into the deck, then begins the more thorough motions, far longer than he normally would, owing to the new deck. He's quiet a little longer, frowning, then his hands pause. "I like the... well, the ''usual'' stability of the Hold way. But I like that in the Weyrs, if something's messed up, it's not forever." There are a few more seconds of silent thought, then he starts dealing them each five cards.

Dragon> The turbulence is absorbed like a breath, then expelled just as gently. Just testing the air. << That is true, >> Kazavoth replies quietly after a brief silence, followed by a longer one. After a time, he lowers his head to the damp ground, eyes fixed on the doors their riders disappeared through, though he is likely fueled more by a feeling than by memory of those doors. (To Solith from Kazavoth)

Telavi, no fount of wisdom where crafts are concerned, for once doesn't opine ''anyway''. She's rested her arms on the edge of the table, crossed but loosely so, the better to observe D'kan's hands and how they shuffle than his actual expression. "We hope it's not forever, anyway. Or is that too dour? At least it shouldn't be forever in the same way..." But her own voice is quiet, with that and even more so beyond that, and she waits just long enough for the dealer to touch his cards before taking her own

Dragon> The air's there to be tested: breathe in, breathe out, it's just how it goes. Solith's silent even as the larger dragon is, though not irrepressibly, with eventually the slightest waft of wordless question. He watches. Why? Also: isn't the ground ''wet''? (To Kazavoth from Solith)

"I think we can be forgiven having a few darker thoughts lately," D'kan says in a low voice, though his gaze is on his cards as he picks them up. "But there's hope, too." He sets aside a couple cards, but waits for Telavi before replacing his two discards. From there, the game progresses, perhaps with both players keeping their cards face-up on the table, at least toward the beginning, but further discussion, and any wins or losses, will be held to those four walls.

Dragon> Kazavoth's own wordless answer is a solid Because, though it is tinged with sleepiness. After all, it's been a long day. As for the wet ground, a haze of answering thought drifts along the link. It will wash off. There will be more rain. There is always more rain. (To Solith from Kazavoth)

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Logs:When to Hold 'Em

2013-07-23T08:00:01Z

D'kan: Created page with "{{ Log | who = D'kan, D'kan{{!}}Kazavoth, Telavi{{!}}Solith, Telavi | where = Crom Area | what = Clutchmates take a break after completing their tasks for the day. | when = Da..."

{{ Log
| who = D'kan, D'kan{{!}}Kazavoth, Telavi{{!}}Solith, Telavi
| where = Crom Area
| what = Clutchmates take a break after completing their tasks for the day.
| when = Day 24, Month 4, Turn 32
| gamedate = 2013.07.22
| quote = "'Me, me, no me! Agh, backstab! How could you?!'"
| weather = Rainy and grey.
| categories = General, Clutch 34
| mentions = Azaylia, Devaki, Edeline, Issedi, Ustelan
| ooc =
| icons = d'kan bemused.jpg, d'kan kaz buhbye.jpg, telavi solith branching.jpg, telavi.jpg
| log = With members of the Minecraft safely delivered back to the Crom Hold area, two of High Reaches' riders, so recently wingmates, find themselves with a free evening away from the distractions of the Weyr. While the rain seems to have slacked off finally, the darkening sky is still in various shades of gloomy grey, but D'kan watches those skies nonetheless while out in the courtyard, Kazavoth stretches his wings, post-flight. He's been slowly tugging off slightly soggy gloves, adding them to the rest of the damp riding gear accumulating inside his handy helmet. "Not quite up for jumping right back home," he announces, looking around for Telavi. "Want to sit for a bit? It's just nice to have a change of scenery."

"If the sitting is ''indoors''," Telavi qualifies from by Solith's shoulder, eyeing those skies with disfavor. She's kept her helmet on, its shallow brim's shadow further greying out her features. "This one has a 'sit around and thaw' area, doesn't it? I remember for last time, it surprised me because it's not like this place is one of the really large holds," except most of that is said on the move, after the beckon that accompanies her purposeful walk to the portico. Double doors, their metal pitted with age but kept polished, guard the entrance above the first of several thick mats. ''Solith'' doesn't seem to mind the damp air, at least yet, going up on her haunches to peek in one of the third-story windows that had been left unshuttered.

Kazavoth, intrigued by Solith's peeking, moves over to add his own brown head to her green, his own body hunched slightly, due to the difference in sizes. D'kan's only response to their actions is to smirk slightly before he moves to follow Telavi inside. "Never been inside here before," he shares, helmet dangling from one hand while he starts to undo the buttons of his jacket. "Been inside the main Hold, though." Because this is somehow critical information. The last button is dealt with, followed by pulling of the material away slightly. "Man, I am so sick of this rain," D'kan mutters darkly, nodding to a couple Miner journeyman on their way outside. "I'm up to four sets of riding gear now, just to keep up with all the drills. Do you guys drill a lot?"

Dragon> The damp, muddy surroundings are washed away with an ethereal sweep of thought, replaced by piqued curiosity that swirls along the edges, slowly reaching toward the center of the link. << Is there someone there? >> he asks, voice hushed, as if any inhabitants might be able to hear him. Then again, knowing Kaz, maybe they could. (To Solith from Kazavoth)

Telavi glances this way and that as she wipes her boots, already removing her own helmet to expose braids as tidy as they'd ever been in weyrlinghood-- only now she doesn't immediately replace it with a cap instead. She hasn't looked back at their dragons, only ahead, nodding him down the tiled corridor. "''Four''. Impressive. But no," this last said as she finally does glance back but at him this time, right before she passes past a tapestry and into a warmer cavern, "I'm still in Cirrus." It would make for a more dramatic exit note, perhaps, if she didn't hold the tapestry so that it doesn't fall in his face before proceeding just as abruptly towards the hearth that's there. "Anything growing between your toes yet?"

Dragon> She answers him back just as intangibly, a ''freshness'' even before he's swept that dankness away. << I ''think'' so. >> Quick to peek, she's not slow to share the view, the gaps between two dragons' heads possibly even allowing more light within that just one. The ''sound'' carries too, or would have done if the girl in that small chamber hadn't seen Solith already and come to a stop. Maybe all of ten or eleven, she has a small three-stringed instrument across her lap and a crooked-tooth smile on her lips, the latter starting to become more of a gape of disbelief. << Is she scared now? >> Solith, a trifle concerned. (To Kazavoth from Solith)

After a murmur of thanks for the tapestry holding, D'kan follows Telavi toward the hearth. "Still? As if you needed more polish or something," he jokes, though it likely sounded better in his head. "As for my toes, I'd like to announce that down at the Hold, they taught us early on to keep clean, dry socks on hand. Especially on the docks. All it takes is seeing one guy lose a foot..." He trails off, leaving the story there. No need for gory details, right? He starts to arrange his gear so it's hanging over the sides of his helmet or over some chair rungs, then drapes his riding jacket over the back of the chair he eventually claims.

Dragon> Consternation blends with curiosity, dark brown flecks marring an otherwise clear wash of gold and green. << I don't know, >> he replies in a hush as he pushes his dark muzzle closer to the window. The change from that short statement to the next is subtle, but the projection has altered somewhat. << Hello, >> he booms, child-ward, tone meant to be soothing and friendly. Oh well. (To Solith from Kazavoth)

Telavi pushes out a breath, somewhere between a sigh and a snort, and turns her head towards the brownrider with what ''might'' have been a roll of her eyes if it hadn't immediately transformed into fascination. "Lose a foot, really? Was it," she gestures vaguely in the air, "toe by toe, or all at once from the skin out, or what?" The question of those ''details'' even slows her down in taking care of her own gear, though when she borrows a chair for her own jacket, it's so she can slide it in front of the hearth and thereby steal at least a little more of its warmth. Nor does she sit right away, but instead roams about the room, taking a look at the various paintings and heavy tapestries and the like.

Dragon> As he pushes forward, Solith draws her own narrow muzzle back with a flurry of breeze, but not so far back that the green can't ''look''. The girl squeaks. "Auntie? Auntie!" Her eyes are bulging and she only saves the instrument from falling at the very last second as she turns for the hallway. If anyone wants to sink back and try to look innocent, now would be the time. (To Kazavoth from Solith)

"He let the rot set in," D'kan begins, making his own inspection of the area from his spot in the chair, "and distrusted Healers. So... all around, his own sharding fault." He leans back while stretching his own feet toward the hearth, then glances over at Telavi. "Want to try out a game or two of cards? Just got a new deck, when I was down at Fort a few days ago. I've been wanting to break it in."

Dragon> << Oh dear. >> It's said in a quiet rush as Kazavoth does indeed draw back to all four paws, very carefully moving away from the building with almost feline-like grace. Meant to do that. Totally. << I do believe, Solith, that ''now'' she is scared. >> (To Solith from Kazavoth)

Glancing back over her shoulder, "Do you trust healers?" Telavi has to ask once she's done wrinkling her nose for that ''rot''. "Or do you just count on socks? And sure, though I have to warn you, I'm no better at it than I was last time we talked. You'll have to..." a noise at the tapestry has her crossing over, then exchanging low words with the woman beyond before turning back in relief. "Good, they won't kick us out." But then, have they heard about the dragons yet?

Dragon> That makes two of them, Solith arranging herself in the courtyard like a loaf of bread that just happens to have wings and a long neck attached. She may ''peek'' at the window they abandoned, but it's just out of the corner of one eye. << She should learn better, >> Solith decides, switching just the tip of her tail back and forth. << ''You'' would not hurt her. It is only that you are big. >> And loud. And... faces at the window now, the girl and an older woman who doesn't even have grey hair yet, though she might after today given how the girl's tugging at her sleeve. Only the woman's voice is audible as words beneath the girl's higher explanation, and even that's half-audible: "...don't see... look, just... be making things up," this with a tug at the girl's ear. (To Kazavoth from Solith)

At the question, D'kan frowns slightly, then shrugs one shoulder. "With Healer stuff, sure. With other stuff, no more or less than anyone else. What about you?" Though his own question ends with a minor note of distraction as he checks in, presumably, with Kazavoth. Whatever that exchange, it makes him frown again, though that is all. "I don't mind. All the more reason to play a few hands, right?" Following that brief distraction, D'kan is cheerfully eager to move on to the cards, which he removes from one of his jacket's inside pockets, which also gives him a chance to relocate the chair closer to the cozy fire before he chooses another with a handy little table nearby. Better for shuffling.

Dragon> D'kan reaches along the mindlink to touch gently, as if taking Kazavoth's pulse. The presence remains, activity familiar, thought polite but inquisitive. There are no words, but the intent is clear. Just checking in. (D'kan to Kazavoth)

Dragon> << I was merely trying to be ''friendly'', >> Kazavoth insists, bewilderment vying with annoyance for the girl's reaction. << You would think she had never seen one of us before! >> he adds while pricks of bright orange swirl rapidly through the gold-tinted green of his eyes. << Or heard! Maybe if I sang to her, >> he adds, trailing off to ponder. << They are silly, >> the brown concludes in a quiet, dark voice. << This ''place'' is silly. Do they not know who we ''are''? >> (To Solith from Kazavoth)

Dragon> Kazavoth allows and even welcomes the intrusion, and while he is not exactly ''hiding'' anything from D'kan, there is surely no need to share images of the panicked girl, right? Or... what preceded that panic? << D'kan, >> Kaz drawls in his light, almost scratchy tenor. << It is very muddy out here. No weyrs. No couches. How do they stand it? >> (Kazavoth to D'kan)

Dragon> While D'kan isn't nearly the natural at the mindlink that his 'mate is, he is still able to express his love-tinted amusement while the mental touch grows briefly warm. Before he retreats, there is an unspoken promise to visit somewhere warm and dry next time. Then his half of the link goes quiet and still. (D'kan to Kazavoth)

Tela waits until she's settled into the second chair at that table to answer, agreeing, "For Healer things. It's just some of them can be such ''know-it-alls'' about everything else too," but she says it lightly, a quirk to her mouth. More important is getting a better look at the cards, seeing what's different. "Do yours have any interesting faces painted on them? What made you pick that particular deck, do you like the design or was it cheap or...?" There's no checking in with Solith, not visibly anyway, her attention staying on the cards and what he does with them.

Dragon> Of course he was! Solith doesn't question that one bit. << I think, >> she decides all at once, << she would rather be ''right'' than not-scared, or not-spooked, or whatever it is. Of course they do not know who we are, we have not told them. Let me try. >> She rarely if ever seems to consciously display herself, but now the green dragon curls her neck, tilting her head just so towards the window with those big bright eyes that just happen to be whirling faster under the strength of Kazavoth's influence. Hers is a soft, unassuming warble, close to a croon, but a dragon's all the same. (To Kazavoth from Solith)

"True enough," D'kan admits, regarding healers, "though some of them at least have kind of earned the right. Sort of. Can't stand the 'expert on everything under the sun' types, though. I'm pretty sure misinformation should fall somewhere under their 'do no harm' credo." He removes the new cards from their small, wooden carrying case, which is slipped back into the jacket. Before he starts shuffling them, he starts separating the suits in case Telavi wants a closer look. "Commissioned this deck," he explains. There's a small note of pride in his voice, but it's subtle. "It's our Holds. The four suits are High Reaches, Tillek, Crom and Nabol. They... didn't know quite what to do with Tillek, I think, so the Holder and Heir are kind of vague. But the Lady is totally Edeline. And--" He pauses, shifting to High Reaches' cards, "That's totally Devaki and family. See how the Heir is still just a kid?" Yeah, he might just get into this stuff a little bit.

Dragon> << Ooooh, >> is at first Kazavoth's only reply, kept quiet so as not to intrude upon the croon. Moments later, he follows with, << Very nice, Solith! >> while sitting back on his haunches to stare at the window once more. Eagerness thrums slightly, but for once, he remains otherwise silent, just watching and listening. And perhaps waiting to find out what happens next. (To Solith from Kazavoth)

'Sort of' gets a quick, bright smile from Telavi, followed by, "It ''should''. But has one really ever given you wrong advice? A healer, if no one else," but it's a brief question, easy to overlook for the deck. The ''deck''. "What a predicament," she says, looking away from the deck only to check her fingertips and then finally rub them against her trousers, just in case, up high where they'd been protected by her jacket. "But it's like saving a place in time, isn't it? Because later it will be different... and the kid, too, the kid will grow up," and she glances up at him, checking to see whether it's all right to touch. Even though he'd ''suggested'' some rounds, earlier. "What did you have them do with the Weyrwomen?"

Dragon> His eagerness, his praise, they turn Solith's eyes bluer and even out what could have been an erratic whirl, though they're just as quick as before. Hesitantly, the girl waves. The auntie waves. And then... then, the shutters ''slam''. (To Kazavoth from Solith)

"Yeah, exactly!" D'kan replies, looking pretty pleased. "It's okay, a piece of history. And Turns from now, if the deck is still around, it'd be easy to show who all held those seats, and kind of what they looked like, and... well." His smile goes both crooked and sheepish. "I guess I just enjoy it. Which is the point, so please, pick up the cards," he insists, holding the deck toward Telavi. "The Weyrwomen are in another deck. Sometimes the cards are really specific, but these are just painted differently. And they're just a senior apprentice's work, so... don't feel like they're totally precious or anything. Just cards." He leans back, dark eyes twinkling as he tries and fails to hide a crooked grin. "Guess I could have requested the kid include jokers. But it really wouldn't have been too tasteful to use riders for that. Or anyone, really. No idea who he ''did'' use for the jokers. Don't usually play with them, anyway."

Dragon> Kazavoth lets out a quick, hearty snort as those shutters close. He settles back down to all four paws, then hunkers down into a brown bread loaf similar to Solith's prior green. << As if they have any room to criticize, >> the brown rumbles while inky swirls darken his half of the mindlink. << Weak minded and... and... >> The ink fades to a grey wash as he searches for just the right insult. << And tiny. >> Because size matters. (To Solith from Kazavoth)

Watching D'kan, Telavi listens with clear fascination and more than one nod, too, but it's how his smile ''changes'' that makes her dimples show... right before she steals that deck right up. She riffles gladly through them, teasing, "So we can play with a meatroll in one hand and a... well, a hand in the other?" More seriously and a little more slowly, even as she pauses to compare a pair of cards, "It makes me wonder, well, maybe not the first time, how much people really did look like the pictures that got made of them. At least the ones that go on walls, they're larger so there's space, but here, someone has to be clever to make the resemblance show when there's not much room. What's your other deck like? Other than having Weyrwomen, I mean."

Dragon> Solith settles back, more or less, but there goes her tail again, and more like a twitch this time. << And small is bad. >> The breeze, just now, may not have ''darkened'' exactly but, much like the grey wash, it's none too fresh. (To Kazavoth from Solith)

"Pretty generic," D'kan answers, settling back comfortably while Telavi inspects the cards. "I bought the first deck off a Trader. The stock their on is good, but the painting is... only serviceable. I wanted something nicer." His eyes go vague again, but only briefly. Checking in with Kazavoth tends to be a fairly regular thing, quickly done. "Some of the really good ones are just about spot on. As good as a portrait. Depends on the Harper, though. Some just have the knack. I think the guy who made these might head that direction."

Dragon> << ''Small'' is not bad, >> Kazavoth insists, clarifying, attempting to cut through the dark and dank. << ''Tiny''. Like their heads. And the tiny brains they must hold. What I leave ''Between'' is bigger than their tiny brains. >> Ever elegant. << And children seem to have the tiniest brains of all. Which is why I chose D'kan. He was not a child. >> (To Solith from Kazavoth)

"Ahh." Telavi flexes a card, sees how comfortably it bends. "And then if he does, you'll have 'known him when'... These will soften up, won't they? Or get more bendy, anyway." She drops her voice considerably to wonder, "I wonder how much longer Lord Ustelan will be about." And now Tela's corrupting the poor deck, removing the requisite cards so that the Ustelan card can say in a scratchy voice, "'Hmm, I wonder which heir I should pick!'" while the heir cards borrowed from the various suits respond, "'Me, me, no me! Agh, backstab! How could you?!'"

Dragon> With his insistence, things lighten up somewhat, at least on Solith's part. ''Somewhat''. << Oh, >> she says. << Better, >> and wraps her wings about her in a way that makes her not ''quite'' so small, not that she's tiny precisely, except by comparison. Still, << The girl was not ''much'' tinier. >> (To Kazavoth from Solith)

D'kan's expression remains somewhat neutral as Telavi begins role-playing with the various cards, though his round cheeks get a little rounder, and his dark eyes get a little more twinkly. "Well, you don't want them ''too'' soft. They'll fray," he replies while reclaiming the ones that are not currently vying for Ustelan's knot. The deck is further corrupted as he begins to shuffle them from one hand to the other. "You ''do'' want them to get nicely polished, though, so they don't stick. Only way to do that is to play." He goes quiet for a few seconds, the only sounds the ones from the cards. "I don't know which I prefer. The odd maneuvering that is Hold politics, or... the Weyr brand. Though it sounds like 'Reaches' situation isn't exactly standard fare."

Dragon> Kazavoth's skepticism about the size of that frightened girl is evident both in posture and mindvoice, though he doesn't not otherwise vocalize his opinion. He shifts somewhat, his own wings held tightly against his body, tail curled around dark, speckled haunches. << Why did you choose your rider? >> he asks, switching to a thread from the previous thoughts. << Do you recall? It is hard to think about old things sometimes, is it not? >> (To Solith from Kazavoth)

"'Polished.' Does that involve skin oils? Because I never thought of cards quite that way before." When Telavi offers the cards back to D'kan, she does so with Ustelan still walking tall and proud on two of his corners, followed by his entourage of would-be heirs. "Hold or Weyr?" she asks of High Reaches, somewhat wry. "Do you know if you'd prefer a Crafthall's? They must have maneuvering of their own. And is it helpful to know what we'd rather have, if what we have, well, ''is'' what we have?" Something about her timbre suggests that ''she'd'' have at least half an answer already, yet hasn't quite committed.

Dragon> It meets with a hint of clearer air wafting by, ever so transparently pleased-- such skepticism, but also such restraint!-- at least until it's touched with a hint of turbulence. Choice? Choosing? Remembering? << She has always been my rider, >> Solith says finally, hesitantly. (To Kazavoth from Solith)

D'kan's answer to Hold or Weyr is to offer a quiet, dry laugh. Likely answer enough, really. "No, I've never understood crafts." He takes the strangler cards and shuffles them into the deck, then begins the more thorough motions, far longer than he normally would, owing to the new deck. He's quiet a little longer, frowning, then his hands pause. "I like the... well, the ''usual'' stability of the Hold way. But I like that in the Weyrs, if something's messed up, it's not forever." There are a few more seconds of silent thought, then he starts dealing them each five cards.

Dragon> The turbulence is absorbed like a breath, then expelled just as gently. Just testing the air. << That is true, >> Kazavoth replies quietly after a brief silence, followed by a longer one. After a time, he lowers his head to the damp ground, eyes fixed on the doors their riders disappeared through, though he is likely fueled more by a feeling than by memory of those doors. (To Solith from Kazavoth)

Telavi, no fount of wisdom where crafts are concerned, for once doesn't opine ''anyway''. She's rested her arms on the edge of the table, crossed but loosely so, the better to observe D'kan's hands and how they shuffle than his actual expression. "We hope it's not forever, anyway. Or is that too dour? At least it shouldn't be forever in the same way..." But her own voice is quiet, with that and even more so beyond that, and she waits just long enough for the dealer to touch his cards before taking her own

Dragon> The air's there to be tested: breathe in, breathe out, it's just how it goes. Solith's silent even as the larger dragon is, though not irrepressibly, with eventually the slightest waft of wordless question. He watches. Why? Also: isn't the ground ''wet''? (To Kazavoth from Solith)

"I think we can be forgiven having a few darker thoughts lately," D'kan says in a low voice, though his gaze is on his cards as he picks them up. "But there's hope, too. Word is Hraedhyth's already starting her next cycle, so... maybe some stability in Azaylia. Question is, who's the other half?" He sets aside a couple cards, but waits for Telavi before replacing his two discards. From there, the game progresses, perhaps with both players keeping their cards face-up on the table, at least toward the beginning, but further discussion, and any wins or losses, will be held to those four walls.

Dragon> Kazavoth's own wordless answer is a solid Because, though it is tinged with sleepiness. After all, it's been a long day. As for the wet ground, a haze of answering thought drifts along the link. It will wash off. There will be more rain. There is always more rain. (To Solith from Kazavoth)

{{#ifexist: Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}} | <hr><hr><br><h2>Comments</h2>{{Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}}}} |<hr><hr>}}

}}

<comments />

Logs talk:Happy Turnday, Telavi! (K'zin Style)

2013-07-23T00:35:32Z

D'kan: Comment provided by D'kan - via ArticleComments extension

<noinclude>Comments on "[[Logs:Happy Turnday, Telavi! (K'zin Style)]]"
----- __NOEDITSECTION__</noinclude>

[[D'kan/Comments|D'kan]] ([[User:D'kan|D'kan]] ([[User talk:D'kan|talk]])) left a comment on Tue, 23 Jul 2013 00:35:32 GMT.

<comment date="2013-07-23T00:35:32Z" name="D'kan" signature="[[User:D&#39;kan|D&#39;kan]] ([[User talk:D&#39;kan|talk]])">
Wow, wee bit smitten, huh?
</comment>

HRW:Snowdrift Wing

2013-07-20T21:16:10Z

D'kan: Weyrling addition

{{Wingleaders
|Wingleader=Mielline (blue Corobith)
|Wingsecond=R'vel (green Keshuath)
|Flight=Lower
|NPCs=''In no particular order...''
* D'leri, blue Driggath
* Mai, green Quesath
* Briora, green Ousath
* [[G'mli]], brown Durinth
* April, blue Darcielth
* Canie, brown Cissoth
* J'tor, brown Adrovanth
}}

==Dynamics==

Snowdrift is a mid-weight wing, with a good balance of dragon colors and personalities. Since the end of the Comet Pass, Snowdrift's wingleader has been turning the wing's focus away from more traditional drilling, and exploring new techniques for keeping them busy. These shifts have included basic search and rescue training, diplomacy training and multi-dragon lifting and carrying - amongst numerous other things. The wing also encourages the interests of wingmembers, resulting in a wide range of skills and talents within the wing, making it ideal for any number of less traditional activities.

[[category:Wings]]

D'kan

2013-07-20T04:59:28Z

D'kan: Glacier! And other updates.

{{HrwProfile
|picture=D'kan.jpg
|position=Wingrider
|dragon=[Dragon:Empires_And_Excess_Brown_Kazavoth]
|craft=
|birthplace=High Reaches Hold
|mother=Dydael
|father=Korlen
|siblings=None
|children=
|friends=
|playedby=[http://justinrain.com/ Justin Rain]
|livejournal=}}

== Description ==

Raven black hair and eyes nearly as dark stand out against D'kan's medium skin tones. He normally keeps his thick hair cut close, but when it gets a little long, it starts to take on a full and messy look. His high cheekbones lend to the almond shape of his eyes and can occasionally give his cheeks a slightly gaunt look. His slightly pointed chin and wide mouth give his face a mildly inverted triangle shape. A narrow and slightly upturned nose combine with small ears to give the young man a slightly impish cast, especially when he smiles.

D'kan's height seems to have settled just shy of six feet. He might have started out lanky, but he's started to fill out in recent turns, aided in development and toning by good old-fashioned manual labor, also evidenced in the thick callouses on his hands. His shoulders have started to take on a broad, rounded look, but the rest of his frame has remained long and lean.

== WYSK ==
* D'kan started as Kaeden, a dock worker from High Reaches Hold.

* He came to the Weyr sometime shortly before Turnover, Turn 30, ostensibly to ensure some precious cargo made it safely from the Hold to the Weyr.

* He was asked by Azaylia to Stand for the combined clutches of Hraedhyth and Iesaryth. (D7 M1 T31 I10)

* D'kan impressed to Empires And Excess Brown Kazavoth of High Reaches Weyr. (D1 M4 T31 I10)

* He was tapped into Glacier by Jo following graduation. (D15 M4 T32 I10)

== History ==
Kaeden spent all his life around High Reaches Hold, right up until he left for the Weyr. He is an only child of a fairly nondescript set of parents. His mother works in the laundry, his father is just a general handyman/worker. Not quite drudge levels, but not all that far above, either. As Kaeden got older, he started to develop into a fairly outgoing kid. He had no issues talking to perfect strangers, but more than that, he had a knack for getting perfect strangers to talk to ''him''. He also found that his parents' work was beyond dull, so he started reaching out for something more interesting.

When Kaeden was a young teen, he started working on the Hold's docks. At first, he simply helped load and unload the ships and wagons as needed, but as he became more familiar with the work, he started helping out in some of the administrative tasks, too, like coordinating schedules, working with trader caravans, and organizing work crews. By the time he'd reached his later teens, he wasn't exactly second-in-command of the docks, but he was definitely becoming someone the dockmaster started to look to when something needed to be not just done, but done correctly and quickly.

When the divided leadership issues began to develop up at the Weyr, Kaeden's boss asked him to go... check it out, to put it nicely -- spy, less so. Itching for a change of pace (not to mention something to do that felt ''important''), Kaeden went, arriving just in time for the Turnover party at the end of Turn 30. His cover story was that he'd come along with a shipment to see to its safety personally, then he just happened to stay for the party. Afterward, he was dragging his feet about finding a way back to the Hold when Azaylia asked him to stand. Well, he couldn't say no to ''that'', now could he?

Just under three months later, Kazavoth found him near the end of the hatching. The rest of the story is still developing.

== Relationships ==

* '''[[Aishani]]''': Everything changes, given enough time. What's changed there?

* '''[[Alida]]''': First weyrlings together, now wingmates. We've had some rare and deep discussions. Doesn't show her vulnerabilities often, which makes it that much more startling when she does.

* '''[[Azaylia]]''': She was given the captain's knot in the middle of a stormy night. One the one hand, I can't blame her for wanting to get her bearings before filling the sails. On the other hand, I kind of just want to get to shore already. At least we're moving again.

* '''[[C'wlin]]''': Things got weird after he and N'hax were bumped back to the barracks. Keep wondering how he's doing. Gotta do something about that.

* '''[[E'sren]]''': Now that weyrlinghood is over, I think I better understand why he went for all that extra hidework and studying. I hope he's good for Sabella.

* '''[[Hana]]''': I grew up with Hana back at High Reaches Hold. We learned to dance together as kids, then went our separate ways when it came time to start working for our keep. If there's a toss dance, and she's there, I'm in. It's been really nice to have a familiar face around sometimes drastically unfamiliar environments. We drifted once I got caught up in weyrlinghood, but it's time to mend that.

* '''[[Jo]]''': She was just kidding about shanking... right? Not entirely sure I want to find out, but it seems like a good thing being on the same team.

* '''J'tor''' (NPC): Fellow brownriding weyrling, whom I tapped to be Sabella's backup wingsecond that one month. Why? Dunno. Kaz and I both like Adrovanth, and J'tor's just a kid, so he was a safe choice. It was a weird decision to have to make so early into things.

* '''[[K'zin]]''': I know more about him from other people than from K'zin himself, as we've tended toward different circles since candidacy.

* '''[[N'hax]]''': If I ever ran into some serious trouble, I think I could go to him and have a real discussion about it, which is a nice feeling. Not sure how he's doing since the trouble during weyrlinghood, though.

* '''[[N'ky]]''': He started out so well, then crashed, big time. Been trying to help, but it feels like he doesn't want it. Doesn't want ''anything'', except to hide away with Cailluneth. Hoping things will improve again, now we're out of weyrlinghood.

* '''[[Sabella]]''': She's been a steady influence throughout weyrlinghood, and it was excellent that we got to work together not once but twice in wing leadership. I'm pretty pleased we'll be able to continue working together as full riders.

* '''[[Telavi]]''': An excellent drinking partner, and not in the "numb in the face" sort of way. She seems really genuine, which is always refreshing.

== RP Logs ==

Most recent logs shown only. The full list is available [[D'kan/Logs|here]], and the full list of mentions is [[D'kan/Mentions|here]].

{{ RP Logs Short | name = D'kan | columns = 3 }}

== Soundtrack ==
{|style="width: 100%;"
|-valign="top"
|style="width: 50%;"|
'''D'kan'''

* [http://youtu.be/CKcZsBLS17U Blue Rodeo - Til I Am Myself Again]
:''I don't need a doctor to figure it out
:''I know what's passing me by
:''When I look in the mirror
:''Sometimes I see traces of some other guy

|
'''D'kan and Kazavoth'''

* [http://youtu.be/w3AmY5HXzgA Barenaked Ladies - Call and Answer]
:''If you call, I will answer
:''and if you fall, I'll pick you up
:''and if you court this disaster
:''I'll point you home
|}

== Miscellaneous ==

From [http://www.easydamus.com/character.html What Kind of D&D Character Would You Be?]

'''D'kan is a:''' Neutral Good Human Sorcerer (3rd Level)

<ins>Alignment:</ins> '''Neutral Good''' A neutral good character does the best that a good person can do. He is devoted to helping others. He works with kings and magistrates but does not feel beholden to them. Neutral good is the best alignment you can be because it means doing what is good without bias for or against order. However, neutral good can be a dangerous alignment when it advances mediocrity by limiting the actions of the truly capable.

<ins>Race:</ins> '''Humans''' are the most adaptable of the common races. Short generations and a penchant for migration and conquest have made them physically diverse as well. Humans are often unorthodox in their dress, sporting unusual hairstyles, fanciful clothes, tattoos, and the like.

<ins>Class:</ins> '''Sorcerers''' are arcane spellcasters who manipulate magic energy with imagination and talent rather than studious discipline. They have no books, no mentors, no theories just raw power that they direct at will. Sorcerers know fewer spells than wizards do and acquire them more slowly, but they can cast individual spells more often and have no need to prepare their incantations ahead of time. Also unlike wizards, sorcerers cannot specialize in a school of magic. Since sorcerers gain their powers without undergoing the years of rigorous study that wizards go through, they have more time to learn fighting skills and are proficient with simple weapons. Charisma is very important for sorcerers; the higher their value in this ability, the higher the spell level they can cast.

'''Kazavoth is a:''' Neutral Good Human Bard

<ins>Class:</ins> '''Bards''' often serve as negotiators, messengers, scouts, and spies. They love to accompany heroes (and villains) to witness heroic (or villainous) deeds firsthand, since a bard who can tell a story from personal experience earns renown among his fellows. A bard casts arcane spells without any advance preparation, much like a sorcerer. Bards also share some specialized skills with rogues, and their knowledge of item lore is nearly unmatched. A high Charisma score allows a bard to cast high-level spells.

* The play-by's [http://vimeo.com/67537535 demo reel].

{{Icons}}

{{HRW}}

[[category:Characters]]
[[category:High Reaches Weyr]]
[[category:High Reaches Area]]
[[category:High Reaches Hold]]
[[category:Greater Pern]]
[[category:Riders]]
[[category:Brownriders]]
[[category:Glacier Wing]]

Logs:Risk Assessment

2013-07-20T04:32:42Z

D'kan: Created page with "{{ Log | who = D'kan, Jo | where = Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr | what = Jo brings D'kan under Glacier's wing. | when = Day 15, Month 4, Turn 32 | gamedate = 2013.07.19 | quote..."

{{ Log
| who = D'kan, Jo
| where = Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Jo brings D'kan under Glacier's wing.
| when = Day 15, Month 4, Turn 32
| gamedate = 2013.07.19
| quote = "Ain' nothin' wrong with bein' a little reckless here and there."
| weather = Rainy
| categories = General
| mentions = Taikrin
| ooc =
| icons = d'kan.jpg, jo civillized.jpg
| log = :''Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr

:''The Snowasis is rarely quiet, and even then, the high-ceilinged former weyr is kept from echoing by the fantastical booths tucked into its convoluted perimeter. The secluded seating spaces have been shaped from the truncated stalagmites that escaped the smoothing of the main floor, and are both softened and separated by colorful hangings that are thick and opaque enough to make each corner its own private nook.

:''Some of the smaller stalactites still roam the ceiling, their jagged teeth tracing a bumpy, inverted spine to the hearth. There, a thick rug with a low klah table and comfortable armchairs and couches sit, their upholstery and cushions changed sporadically to match the season: bright, light colors in the summer, fresh greens and yellows in the spring, warm autumnals in fall, and clear, rich hues for winter. Small tables litter the rest of the cavern, enough to fit up to four people each, while stools stand along the smooth wooden bar behind which is the passthrough window to the kitchen. Glass-paneled cabinetry behind the bar provides a clear view of the available liquors, the many colors reflecting the soft light of glows tucked into strategic niches around the cavern

----

It's the usual busy night at the local bar, filled with riders and residents alike. Anyone can hear the raucous calls and banter from the group of Glacier riders near the darts, and the heavy drink is flowing smooth to each and every one of them. Jo, as usual if she's around, can be seen a bit apart from the loud group, nursing her glass and keeping an eye out towards those that come and go. In her black leathers, she can be seen tossing a comment here and there with her wingmates, usually the crasser, the better from her.

The busy night at the Snowasis isn't enough to keep D'kan away. Going by the grin on his face as he hangs his rain jacket on a hook, the atmosphere might be just what he's looking for. Bit by bit, he's able to make progress toward the bar, though once he's there, it's still a longer wait to get the attention of one of the bartenders. Another wait to get his drink. Then another to safely bring himself and his drink away from the bar, only after which does he look around the rest of the Snowasis.

Jo is close to the bar - close to spot weyrling-turned-rider arrive in. She watches him as she drains her glass, and when D'kan steps away from the counter to look around, her head tilts slightly as she says, "Ya must be D'kan." No greetings, no introductions. This bluerider without her knot on is direct in her easygoing tone, her dark hair messed up from the rain that still appears a bit damp from the outside. She almost looks unconcerned despite her watching him.

D'kan's perusal of the Snowasis is interrupted by someone's voice, and it takes him a second or two of searching to find the rider who's watching him. The brownrider studies her for another second or two, then grins slightly while lifting his glass toward her. Not in toast, just in greeting. "I am," he answers simply. A couple others pass by, then he closes the short distance. Easier for speaking. While he doesn't seem to have her own name to hand, he does glance from her to the group of Glacier riders, then back again, perhaps familiar enough from weyrling shadowing to know that's her group. "Didn't feel like darts?"

When he confirms it, Jo nods a few times and gives him a once-over - the look with her is always indulgent, and borderline inappropriate. Her gaze falls on her wingmates when his do as well, lifting her chin a bit before taking a drink to his question. "Some of'em cheat," is her droll answer. Meeting his gaze, "They cheat me, and then I have to shank'em. Messy business." She's joking, right? "But ''you''," she continues now, gesturing towards him with her glass. "''You'' should be playin' darts with them, darlin'. Bet a whole seven's worth of wages, too, and that's if yer feelin' lucky. Maybe it ''is'' yer lucky night," she notes, matter-of-factly, "cuz I've been lookin' for ya. Got enough to buy this girl with the parched throat a refill?" She'll even hold out her empty glass for him.

D'kan makes a silent "ah" reply when Jo explains about the cheating. Or maybe it's for the mention of shanking. When talk turns to ''him'' playing darts, he laughs softly. "I don't know if I'm up to betting just yet, but I'll gladly get your refill." He takes the offered empty glass, then tosses his own back before asking, "What's the drink?" Important detail. His voice might be a little scratchy after whatever his own poison of choice is for the night, but it's not strong enough to make him wince.

"''Are'' ya a bettin' man?" Jo asks now, considering D'kan for his response. "A risk-taker? Is that a question I shouldn' be askin' a stranger on just a name basis so soon?" Beat. "Whiskey, Bitran," she answers on her drink right then, inclining her head in thanks. "Good shit, but I've had stronger." She leans back and waits for her refill, laughter erupting from the wingriders by them.

D'kan considers the two empty glasses for a couple seconds, then grins again at Jo. "I'd say I'm a gambling man. I like risks, but not stupid ones." The grin grows a little wider. "Like betting on a game I haven't played enough. Or against cheaters." He lifts the two glasses, then turns to make his way back to the bar, passing the laughing wingriders. Soon enough, though, he's back, both glasses refilled, though not with the same alcohol, going by the colors. One, he holds out for Jo, the other he keeps, then leans back to people-watch for a moment. "If you tell me your name, we won't really be strangers anymore, right?"

Grinning, "Fair enough," Jo concedes on gambling, though she does add, "Ain' nothin' wrong with bein' a little reckless here and there." She watches him leave with their glasses and passes a few banters with her wingmates before he returns, taking up her glass with a nod of thanks before joining him in the people-watching. The last gets open laughter before she runs a free hand through her hair and says, "Truth. Jo," she then thrusts that hand out for him to shake. "Blue Tacuseth's. Glacier," naturally, her tone implies with the half-shrug before ''then'' dropping, "Yer wingmate."

Already in the process of shaking her hand, the shake pauses at the last two words. Little shows on his face, except for a quick glance once more toward the raucous dart players, then a slow smile begins to spread, quickly on its way to turning his expression into a chipmunk-cheeked grin. He utters a quiet, "Wicked," in reply to the wingmate implication, then has to laugh a little. "Are you guys sure? Kazavoth's a bit much sometimes." It's said with a drawl, though, not heartfelt at all. He laughs, leans back again, then lifts his glass once to Jo, then to the other riders before uttering a cheerful, "To Glacier, then," and taking a hearty drink.

"Are ''you'' sure ya wanna be in the roughneck's wing?" Jo returns on his question, shaking his hand firmly. "I'm sure Kazavoth will find himself right at home with the sorts we got. If not, he ''will'' soon enough. Ain' no better wing to be in, if I can be biased. Guess this means yer little vacationin's over though, since Taikrin'll be expectin' ya for drills in the mornin'." The Glacier wingriders, well into their cups, lift their mugs suddenly towards D'kan, having apparently been listening. They all take up his toast, Jo included with a brief raise of her glass to his before drinking. "To Glacier." For that moment, the noise is deafening. Once she drinks, she dips her free hand into one of the inner pockets of her jacket, pulling out the Glacier knot meant for him and passing it over as she states, "Welcome to fuckin' Glacier, D'kan. Ya might find yerself gettin' into all sorts of reckless risk the longer ya stay with us, after all."

"I'll be there," D'kan is quick to promise, regarding the morning drills, and when Jo holds out the new knot, he just goes right back to the round-cheeked grin as he takes it in hand, then lifts it slightly with a quiet, "Thanks." Then, laughing, he pockets the knot and glances over at his newfound wingmates before stating, "My life was getting a little too routine anyway." It could be in jest, but possibly not. In any case, he lifts his glass again with yet another grin, then drains the drink and sets the empty glass aside. "Best get started, I guess. Darts, is it?" He pushes away from where they'd been leaning and starts to head into the midst of the wingriders, ready to start (re)introducing himself.

"Good," Jo gives on D'kan showing up in the morning, nodding. "Taikrin'll like hearin' that. She raises her glass again before draining it once he takes the knot, adding on routine, "Ya won' have to worry about ''that'' shit anymore with us, darlin'." There's too much mysterious certainty in her tone, perhaps, but it doesn't linger as she waves him off to meet his new wingmates before tossing out, "Nice meetin' ya, D'kan. Sure we'll be chattin' it up again. Enjoy the risky darts." She wasn't staying, stepping away and setting the glass down before she tosses over her shoulder, "Oh, and thanks for the refill, darlin'," nodding his way in farewell before she's back out to the rainy elements.

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Logs:Cherry Bomb

2013-07-17T00:58:51Z

D'kan:

{{ Log
| who = D'kan
| where = Telgar Weyr
| what = A rite of passage, or just a right turn at the corner?
| when = Day 4, Month 4, Turn 32
| gamedate = 2013.07.16
| quote = "Oh, hun. Your first?"
| weather = Rainy
| categories = Vignette
| mentions =
| ooc =
| icons = d'kan askance.jpg
| log = Could be "hours", the Smith had said. Why not wait around and have a drink first? Why not, indeed. D'kan surveyed the Weyr's local tavern as he hung his rain gear on one of the hooks near the door. It wasn't too busy, too late for lunch, too early for dinner. Not too early for a drink, though, going by one of the tables nearby. Just the right time for a party, it seemed.

While somewhat loathe to spend even a fraction of a mark somewhere other than his own beleaguered Weyr, D'kan made his way to the bar and ordered an ale. His dad had always been fond of Telgar's ale. No time like the present to give it a try.

----

Later on, D'kan was hard-pressed to remember if he even tasted the ale. Things happened so quickly. He had the glass in his hand and was beckoned over to the party table. And why not? Slow day at the tavern, and the Smith journeyman wasn't going to be ready for a while. So D'kan went. He quickly deduced it was one of ''those'' parties, where the center of attention was one rather amorous greenrider, going by her knot.

The others seemed to be playing along, and D'kan didn't mind a little harmless fun and flirting. He vaguely remembered chatting with one of Telgar's blueriders, who had been a dockworker herself once upon a time, but at Nerat. Yes, good, harmless fun. There had been an unfamiliar, niggling sensation along the mindlink, but D'kan hadn't thought much of it at the time.

----

He was barely awake, staring blearily at the dark and unfamiliar ceiling. It felt like evening. He could dimly feel Kazavoth. A sensation of cold. Somewhere with snow. Probing further, his lifemate showed his view of the west, where sunlight still brightened the sky, if barely. That didn't necessarily help D'kan since Kaz didn't seem to know just how far north he was, but it at least confirmed that it ''was'' still evening. That was something. The brief conversation took all of a minute, then he closed his eyes once more and simply ''felt''.

His head was fuzzy. He dimly remembered drinking more than just that one ale, but how much? And what? He had no idea. Briefly, he wondered if he had a tab at the tavern. He'd never liked the idea of carrying a balance for long. Must remember to stop there, and soon.

A sound and movement interrupted his haze of thought. Slowly, and not without some level of apprehension, D'kan turned his head. That was definitely a breast right there. Well, that was something, too. Just enough light filtered from the ledge for him to make out the woman's tousled hair. Dark. Short.

Carefully, D'kan pushed himself to his elbows. The bed was nice. Firm, with far softer sheets than he'd ever felt before. Which meant this was not the young greenrider, but one of the others. Likely older. Old enough to afford the nicer things in life, at least. That explained why Kazavoth was far away, cooling his heels.

D'kan softly touched the rider's shoulder, and she turned toward him. Oh look, the other breast. Feeling himself blush, he focused on her face. It was the woman from Nerat. That made it better somehow. Desperately, he searched for a name. ''Come on, Kaed, don't be that guy...''

"Syd?" he tried, relieved when she smiled.

"'Sydni', but 'Syd' is what the others call me." She sat up, then laughed when D'kan looked away. "Oh, hun. Your first?" she asked, Nerat clearer than ever in her accent just then. She got up from the bed and slipped into a shirt, then began tossing D'kan's own things toward him so he could get over his blushing ego by dressing in the dark. He could just start to sense Kazavoth drawing nearer, and he shivered as the dragon shared the sensation of cold rain on his wings.

Sydni returned with his boots, then sat on the edge of the bed. "Don't worry, the old Holder stuff fades after a few flights. The first time was pretty weird for me, too." D'kan tugged on his trousers and cinched his belt, less rushed now than a moment ago. The other rider continued, "If you had to have your first this way, then you lucked out. I'm an old hand at this. Not going to visit 'Reaches and moon about. You'll have no flight baby to worry you. This was a fast chase, a fun ride, and now it's a fond farewell." As Sydni finished, she held out a hand toward D'kan and grinned.

He hesitated at first, then took her hand and shook it once, smiling as he got to his feet. "If you ''do'' end up at 'Reaches now and then, though, don't feel like you need to be a stranger," D'kan said quietly. Kazavoth was above the bowl now, feeling his way toward the ledge that would lead to D'kan.

Giving the bluerider a last handshake, D'kan uttered a quiet, "Clear skies, Sydni," then left for the ledge. The rain here had stopped not too long ago, and everything was still damp. Including the riding straps, which had still been on Kazavoth when he decided to try his wings during a green flight in the rain. While clipping himself to the soggy straps, D'kan pondered how he and Sydni had ended up at her weyr, but Kaz was able to fill in some of the blanks, though his own memories were already fading.

From the bowl, D'kan stepped into the tavern, first to retrieve his jacket, second to enquire about a tab. It took a while, as the place was far busier than before, but it was the same bartender. He waved off the barely-rider with a laugh and returned to his other customers.

He made his way through the mud toward the smithy, where the journeyman was still at work. He looked up when D'kan walked in and greeted him with a smile, a small stack of marks, and a rolled hide. "Just in time, just in time my boy. Thank you so much for waiting," the journeyman said, then prattled on for a couple minutes about the work and other things. D'kan quickly realized the man had no idea what time it was.

"Well, good evening, sir," the brownrider said, disengaging himself from the Smith by picking up the long, crated parcel, the initial reason for the longer wait. "I'll get this to the Hold right away. Thanks again for calling on us." Then he was safely outside, where he and Kaz had the muddy bowl, then the quiet, clearing skies all to themselves.

After a blink ''between'', and some of the usual business-related chatting, the brown pair was relieved of their delivery and retreated back to their own weyr to reflect and sleep, in whichever order came more naturally.

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Logs:Cherry Bomb

2013-07-16T23:14:09Z

D'kan: Created page with "{{ Log | who = D'kan | where = Telgar Weyr | what = A rite of passage, or just a right turn at the corner? | when = Day 4, Month 4, Turn 32 | gamedate = 2013.07.16 | quote = "..."

{{ Log
| who = D'kan
| where = Telgar Weyr
| what = A rite of passage, or just a right turn at the corner?
| when = Day 4, Month 4, Turn 32
| gamedate = 2013.07.16
| quote = "Oh, hun. Your first?"
| weather = Rainy
| categories = Vignette
| mentions =
| ooc =
| icons = d'kan askance.jpg
| log = Could be "hours", the Smith had said. Why not wait around and have a drink first? Why not, indeed. D'kan surveyed the Weyr's local tavern as he hung his rain gear on one of the hooks near the door. It wasn't too busy, too late for lunch, too early for dinner. Not too early for a drink, though, going by one of the tables nearby. Just the right time for a party, it seemed.

While somewhat loathe to spend even a fraction of a mark somewhere other than his own beleaguered Weyr, D'kan made his way to the bar and ordered an ale. His dad had always been fond of Telgar's ale. No time like the present to give it a try.

----

Later on, D'kan was hard-pressed to remember if he even tasted the ale. Things happened so quickly. He had the glass in his hand and was beckoned over to the party table. And why not? Slow day at the tavern, and the Smith journeyman wasn't going to be ready for a while. So D'kan went. He quickly deduced it was one of ''those'' parties, where the center of attention was one rather amorous greenrider, going by her knot.

The other seemed to be playing along, and D'kan didn't mind a little harmless fun and flirting. He vaguely remembered chatting with one of Telgar's blueriders, who had been a dockworker herself once upon a time, but at Nerat. Yes, good, harmless fun. There had been an unfamiliar, niggling sensation along the mindlink, but D'kan hadn't thought much of it at the time.

----

He was barely awake, staring blearily at the dark and unfamiliar ceiling. It felt like evening. He could dimly feel Kazavoth. A sensation of cold. Somewhere with snow. Probing further, his lifemate showed his view of the west, where sunlight still brightened the sky, if barely. That didn't necessarily help D'kan since Kaz didn't seem to know just how far north he was, but it at least confirmed that it ''was'' still evening. That was something. The brief conversation took all of a minute, then he closed his eyes once more and simply ''felt''.

His head was fuzzy. He dimly remembered drinking more than just that one ale, but how much? And what? He had no idea. Briefly, he wondered if he had a tab at the tavern. He'd never liked the idea of carrying a balance for long. Must remember to stop there, and soon.

A sound and movement interrupted his haze of thought. Slowly, and not without some level of apprehension, D'kan turned his head. That was definitely a breast right there. Well, that was something, too. Just enough light filtered from the ledge for him to make out the woman's tousled hair. Dark. Short.

Carefully, D'kan pushed himself to his elbows. The bed was nice. Firm, with far softer sheets than he'd ever felt before. Which meant this was not the young greenrider, but one of the others. Likely older. Old enough to afford the nicer things in life, at least. That explained why Kazavoth was far away, cooling his heels.

D'kan softly touched the rider's shoulder, and she turned toward him. Oh look, the other breast. Feeling himself blush, he focused on her face. It was the woman from Nerat. That made it better somehow. Desperately, he searched for a name. ''Come on, Kaed, don't be that guy...''

"Syd?" he tried, relieved when she smiled.

"'Sydni', but 'Syd' is what the others call me." She sat up, then laughed when D'kan looked away. "Oh, hun. Your first?" she asked, Nerat clearer than ever in her accent just then. She got up from the bed and slipped into a shirt, then began tossing D'kan's own things toward him so he could get over his blushing ego by dressing in the dark. He could just start to sense Kazavoth drawing nearer, and he shivered as the dragon shared the sensation of cold rain on his wings.

Sydni returned with his boots, then sat on the edge of the bed. "Don't worry, the old Holder stuff fades after a few flights. The first time was pretty weird for me, too." D'kan tugged on his trousers and cinched his belt, less rushed now than a moment ago. The other rider continued, "If you had to have your first this way, then you lucked out. I'm an old hand at this. Not going to visit 'Reaches and moon about. You'll have no flight baby to worry you. This was a fast chase, a fun ride, and now it's a fond farewell." As Sydni finished, she held out a hand toward D'kan and grinned.

He hesitated at first, then took her hand and shook it once, smiling as he got to his feet. "If you ''do'' end up at 'Reaches now and then, though, don't feel like you need to be a stranger," D'kan said quietly. Kazavoth was above the bowl now, feeling his way toward the ledge that would lead to D'kan.

Giving the bluerider a last handshake, D'kan uttered a quiet, "Clear skies, Sydni," then left for the ledge. The rain here had stopped not too long ago, and everything was still damp. Including the riding straps, which had still been on Kazavoth when he decided to try his wings during a green flight in the rain. While clipping himself to the soggy straps, D'kan pondered how he and Sydni had ended up at her weyr, but Kaz was able to fill in some of the blanks, though his own memories were already fading.

From the bowl, D'kan stepped into the tavern, first to retrieve his jacket, second to enquire about a tab. It took a while, as the place was far busier than before, but it was the same bartender. He waved off the barely-rider with a laugh and returned to his other customers.

He made his way through the mud toward the smithy, where the journeyman was still at work. He looked up when D'kan walked in and greeted him with a smile, a small stack of marks, and a rolled hide. "Just in time, just in time my boy. Thank you so much for waiting," the journeyman said, then prattled on for a couple minutes about the work and other things. D'kan quickly realized the man had no idea what time it was.

"Well, good evening, sir," the brownrider said, disengaging himself from the Smith by picking up the long, crated parcel, the initial reason for the longer wait.. "I'll get this to the Hold right away. Thanks again for calling on us." Then he was safely outside, where he and Kaz had the muddy bowl, then the quiet, clearing skies all to themselves.

After a blink ''between'', and some of the usual business-related chatting, the brown pair was relieved of their delivery and retreated back to their own weyr to reflect and sleep, in whichever order came more naturally.

{{#ifexist: Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}} | <hr><hr><br><h2>Comments</h2>{{Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}}}} |<hr><hr>}}

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D'kan

2013-07-16T07:14:53Z

D'kan: /* Soundtrack */

{{HrwProfile
|picture=D'kan.jpg
|position=Weyrling
|dragon=[Dragon:Empires_And_Excess_Brown_Kazavoth]
|craft=
|birthplace=High Reaches Hold
|mother=Dydael
|father=Korlen
|siblings=None
|children=
|friends=
|playedby=[http://justinrain.com/ Justin Rain]
|livejournal=}}

== Description ==

Raven black hair and eyes nearly as dark stand out against D'kan's medium skin tones. He normally keeps his thick hair cut close, but when it gets a little long, it starts to take on a full and messy look. His high cheekbones lend to the almond shape of his eyes and can occasionally give his cheeks a slightly gaunt look. His slightly pointed chin and wide mouth give his face a mildly inverted triangle shape. A narrow and slightly upturned nose combine with small ears to give the young man a slightly impish cast, especially when he smiles.

D'kan's height seems to have settled just shy of six feet. He might have started out lanky, but he's started to fill out in recent turns, aided in development and toning by good old-fashioned manual labor, also evidenced in the thick callouses on his hands. His shoulders have started to take on a broad, rounded look, but the rest of his frame has remained long and lean.

== WYSK ==
* D'kan started as Kaeden, a dock worker from High Reaches Hold.

* He came to the Weyr sometime shortly before Turnover, Turn 30, ostensibly to ensure some precious cargo made it safely from the Hold to the Weyr.

* He was asked by Azaylia to Stand for the combined clutches of Hraedhyth and Iesaryth. (D7 M1 T31 I10)

* D'kan impressed to Empires And Excess Brown Kazavoth of High Reaches Weyr. (D1 M4 T31 I10)

== History ==
Kaeden spent all his life around High Reaches Hold, right up until he left for the Weyr. He is an only child of a fairly nondescript set of parents. His mother works in the laundry, his father is just a general handyman/worker. Not quite drudge levels, but not all that far above, either. As Kaeden got older, he started to develop into a fairly outgoing kid. He had no issues talking to perfect strangers, but more than that, he had a knack for getting perfect strangers to talk to ''him''. He also found that his parents' work was beyond dull, so he started reaching out for something more interesting.

When Kaeden was a young teen, he started working on the Hold's docks. At first, he simply helped load and unload the ships and wagons as needed, but as he became more familiar with the work, he started helping out in some of the administrative tasks, too, like coordinating schedules, working with trader caravans, and organizing work crews. By the time he'd reached his later teens, he wasn't exactly second-in-command of the docks, but he was definitely becoming someone the dockmaster started to look to when something needed to be not just done, but done correctly and quickly.

When the divided leadership issues began to develop up at the Weyr, Kaeden's boss asked him to go... check it out, to put it nicely -- spy, less so. Itching for a change of pace (not to mention something to do that felt ''important''), Kaeden went, arriving just in time for the Turnover party at the end of Turn 30. His cover story was that he'd come along with a shipment to see to its safety personally, then he just happened to stay for the party. Afterward, he was dragging his feet about finding a way back to the Hold when Azaylia asked him to stand. Well, he couldn't say no to ''that'', now could he?

Just under three months later, Kazavoth found him near the end of the hatching. The rest of the story is still developing.

== Relationships ==

* '''[[Aishani]]''': She's been good to me. Good ''for'' me. That means more than a sharding name. Is she good for the Weyr? No one's dead yet. So far so good.

* '''[[Alida]]''': Fellow weyrling. We tend to traverse different paths, but I keep hearing there's more to her than her tough façade.

* '''[[Azaylia]]''': Azaylia, on the other hand, seems almost desperate to be good for the Weyr. Gotta admire that. Is she leader material? Maybe someday. I don't know about today.

* '''[[C'wlin]]''': He's adjusting better than I thought he would, though for someone who pictured himself as Masterharper someday, he's in charge of ''nothing'' when it comes to Athimeroth. Hadn't thought he was the type to bend over like that.

* '''[[E'sren]]''': Fellow weyrling. I really don't know him well beyond drills and exercises. Seems to be applying himself to all those extra classes. Keener.

* '''[[Hana]]''': I grew up with Hana back at High Reaches Hold. We learned to dance together as kids, then went our separate ways when it came time to start working for our keep. If there's a toss dance, and she's there, I'm in. It's been really nice to have a familiar face around sometimes drastically unfamiliar environments. I'm kind of glad she's not tailing Devaki's troupe anymore.

* '''J'tor''' (NPC): Fellow brownriding weyrling, whom I tapped to be Sabella's backup wingsecond that one month. Why? Dunno. Kaz and I both like Adrovanth, and J'tor's just a kid, so he was a safe choice. It was a weird decision to have to make so early into things.

* '''[[K'zin]]''': Fellow weyrling. I know more about him from other people than from K'zin himself, as we've tended toward different circles since candidacy.

* '''[[N'gan]]''': Fellow weyrling. I kind of feel for him. At least most of us got some crash courses in candidacy. His world changed overnight. So far so good, or so it seems. Will he go back to Tillek when all this is done?

* '''[[N'hax]]''': I'm pleased this guy impressed. It's nice having someone around who's a little more mature. If I ever ran into some serious trouble, I think I could go to him and have a real discussion about it, which is a nice feeling.

* '''[[N'ky]]''': He started out so well, then crashed, big time. Been trying to help, but it feels like he doesn't want it. Doesn't want ''anything'', except to hide away with Cailluneth.

* '''[[Sabella]]''': Fellow weyrling. Was supposed to play the part of wingsecond in our fifth month but broke her arm just seconds off the ground in her first flight. Seems capable enough, otherwise. The weyrlingmasters apparently thought so.

* '''[[Telavi]]''': Fellow weyrling. Beyond that, I don't have much to go on, but I hear good things, and the weyrlingmasters saw something good in her.

== RP Logs ==

Most recent logs shown only. The full list is available [[D'kan/Logs|here]], and the full list of mentions is [[D'kan/Mentions|here]].

{{ RP Logs Short | name = D'kan | columns = 3 }}

== Soundtrack ==
{|style="width: 100%;"
|-valign="top"
|style="width: 50%;"|
'''D'kan'''

* [http://youtu.be/CKcZsBLS17U Blue Rodeo - Til I Am Myself Again]
:''I don't need a doctor to figure it out
:''I know what's passing me by
:''When I look in the mirror
:''Sometimes I see traces of some other guy

|
'''D'kan and Kazavoth'''

* [http://youtu.be/w3AmY5HXzgA Barenaked Ladies - Call and Answer]
:''If you call, I will answer
:''and if you fall, I'll pick you up
:''and if you court this disaster
:''I'll point you home
|}

== Miscellaneous ==

From [http://www.easydamus.com/character.html What Kind of D&D Character Would You Be?]

'''D'kan is a:''' Neutral Good Human Sorcerer (3rd Level)

<ins>Alignment:</ins> '''Neutral Good''' A neutral good character does the best that a good person can do. He is devoted to helping others. He works with kings and magistrates but does not feel beholden to them. Neutral good is the best alignment you can be because it means doing what is good without bias for or against order. However, neutral good can be a dangerous alignment when it advances mediocrity by limiting the actions of the truly capable.

<ins>Race:</ins> '''Humans''' are the most adaptable of the common races. Short generations and a penchant for migration and conquest have made them physically diverse as well. Humans are often unorthodox in their dress, sporting unusual hairstyles, fanciful clothes, tattoos, and the like.

<ins>Class:</ins> '''Sorcerers''' are arcane spellcasters who manipulate magic energy with imagination and talent rather than studious discipline. They have no books, no mentors, no theories just raw power that they direct at will. Sorcerers know fewer spells than wizards do and acquire them more slowly, but they can cast individual spells more often and have no need to prepare their incantations ahead of time. Also unlike wizards, sorcerers cannot specialize in a school of magic. Since sorcerers gain their powers without undergoing the years of rigorous study that wizards go through, they have more time to learn fighting skills and are proficient with simple weapons. Charisma is very important for sorcerers; the higher their value in this ability, the higher the spell level they can cast.

'''Kazavoth is a:''' Neutral Good Human Bard

<ins>Class:</ins> '''Bards''' often serve as negotiators, messengers, scouts, and spies. They love to accompany heroes (and villains) to witness heroic (or villainous) deeds firsthand, since a bard who can tell a story from personal experience earns renown among his fellows. A bard casts arcane spells without any advance preparation, much like a sorcerer. Bards also share some specialized skills with rogues, and their knowledge of item lore is nearly unmatched. A high Charisma score allows a bard to cast high-level spells.

The play-by's [http://vimeo.com/67537535 demo reel].

{{Icons}}

{{HRW}}

[[category:Characters]]
[[category:High Reaches Weyr]]
[[category:High Reaches Area]]
[[category:High Reaches Hold]]
[[category:Greater Pern]]
[[category:Riders]]
[[category:Brownriders]]
[[category:Flurry Wing]]

G'mli/Mentions

2013-07-16T07:11:03Z

D'kan: Created page with "== Mentioned In... Logs == {{RP Logs | name = {{#titleparts: {{BASEPAGENAME}} | 1 }}/Mentions | columns = 3 }} {{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Co..."

== Mentioned In... Logs ==

{{RP Logs | name = {{#titleparts: {{BASEPAGENAME}} | 1 }}/Mentions | columns = 3 }}

{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments}} | }}

D'kan/Mentions

2013-07-16T07:10:18Z

D'kan: Code fix

== Mentioned in Logs ==

{{RP Logs | name = {{#titleparts: {{BASEPAGENAME}} | 1 }}/Mentions | columns = 3 }}

{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments}} | }}

Logs talk:Chipper

2013-07-08T00:49:13Z

D'kan: Comment provided by D'kan - via ArticleComments extension

<noinclude>Comments on "[[Logs:Chipper]]"
----- __NOEDITSECTION__</noinclude>

[[D'kan/Comments|D'kan]] ([[User:D'kan|D'kan]] ([[User talk:D'kan|talk]])) left a comment on Mon, 08 Jul 2013 00:49:13 GMT.

<comment date="2013-07-08T00:49:13Z" name="D'kan" signature="[[User:D&#39;kan|D&#39;kan]] ([[User talk:D&#39;kan|talk]])">
This cracked me up. Just wanted to say so.

-D
</comment>

Logs:Brownrider Down

2013-07-03T22:07:27Z

D'kan: Created page with "{{ Log | who = D'kan, G'mli | where = Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr | what = D'kan finds his mentor crying into his cups. Sort of. Not really. | when = Day 15, Month 2, Turn 3..."

{{ Log
| who = D'kan, G'mli
| where = Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr
| what = D'kan finds his mentor crying into his cups. Sort of. Not really.
| when = Day 15, Month 2, Turn 32
| gamedate = 2013.07.01
| quote = "Implyin' that... that brownriders can't... the Weyr... doesn' ''want'' us."
| weather =
| categories = Vignette, Divided Leadership
| mentions = Azaylia
| ooc = Follows [[Logs:Campaign_Colorblind]] by a few hours.
| icons = g'mli blasted.jpg, d'kan puzzled.jpg
| log = :''Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr

:''The Snowasis is rarely quiet, and even then, the high-ceilinged former weyr is kept from echoing by the fantastical booths tucked into its convoluted perimeter. The secluded seating spaces have been shaped from the truncated stalagmites that escaped the smoothing of the main floor, and are both softened and separated by colorful hangings that are thick and opaque enough to make each corner its own private nook.

:''Some of the smaller stalactites still roam the ceiling, their jagged teeth tracing a bumpy, inverted spine to the hearth. There, a thick rug with a low klah table and comfortable armchairs and couches sit, their upholstery and cushions changed sporadically to match the season: bright, light colors in the summer, fresh greens and yellows in the spring, warm autumnals in fall, and clear, rich hues for winter. Small tables litter the rest of the cavern, enough to fit up to four people each, while stools stand along the smooth wooden bar behind which is the passthrough window to the kitchen. Glass-paneled cabinetry behind the bar provides a clear view of the available liquors, the many colors reflecting the soft light of glows tucked into strategic niches around the cavern.

----

Evening was just starting to settle outside, but G'mli had been occupying his current booth for at least a couple hours. By outward appearances, there seemed little reason for his uncharacteristically dour expression. The glazed eyes were easy to explain, though, as an empty pitcher sat at the end of the booth, and a second one stood next to the table's single glass. Now and then, the brownrider would rumble something or other, but nothing intelligible, and efforts by the couple wingmates also in the Snowasis had been gruffly shrugged off. And so it was that he sat alone, half a pitcher of beer his only company.

But not for long. D'kan stomps the snow off his boots at the door and looks around. While the dinner hour is quickly approaching, the bushy haired brownriding mentor is still pretty easy to pick out. The weyrling does not ask to sit, just slides right on in across from G'mli, his dark eyes quickly taking in the items on the table and his mentor's appearance. "Rough day?" he asks before starting to remove his scarf, bundling it with his hat and gloves, which are then tossed onto the booth's bench.

"''Hrmph!''" is G'mli's initial response, brows drawing down to ineffectually glare across the table, mustaches blowing out slightly before he wets them again with another drink of beer. He makes more rumbling, grumbling noises while staring at the rest of the beer, then takes another drink before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Shardin' ''women'', D'kan," he growls in a low, slurred voice. "Can't trust 'em. Can't ''reason'' with 'em. Can't even... even..." Train of thought leaves the station. He shoves the pitcher of beer roughly across the table toward D'kan, nearly tipping it.

Righting the pitcher with minimal effort, D'kan moves it to the end of the table against the wall, managing to miss dragging his coat sleeve through some of the beer already on the table. He waves off the passing bartender, declining a drink, then glances at G'mli again before giving the bartender the "cut" signal. No more beer for G'mli. "Soooo... who turned you down this time, Gim? Please don't tell me it was that bluerider from Polaris. She looks so much like my mother, the thought of you and her like that..." The rest doesn't need to be said, right?

The sound G'mli makes next might actually be a growl, but he's far enough into his cups at this point, that nothing much comes of it. Aside from a rumbled insult that sounds something like, "Stuff your sack with firestone and light it." The rest of the grumbling is drowned in the last of the beer from his glass, but when he looks for the still slightly sloshing pitcher, he gives it a look that clearly says, ''But it's too far away''. And so he sits, eventually looking at D'kan again. "Not her, you nitwitted hatchling." Pause. Voice drops to a low rumble again. "Azaylia."

It's a good thing D'kan isn't drinking anything, or he may have choked to death right then and there. Instead, he stares blankly at G'mli for a moment, mouth slightly ajar. Then he squints, brows drawing in. "Wait. No... you didn't proposition ''Azaylia''... did you?" he asks with hope and fear.

Blustery indignation is the older brownrider's first response, until understanding works its way through his beer-addled brain, at which point G'mli gives D'kan a blank stare of his own. Then a grin, indicated by suddenly twinkling eyes, precedes a booming series of laughing guffaws that fill the entire Snowasis. "Now ''there's'' a thought," he teases, a meaty hand slamming the table. It would have been better if it hadn't landed in a shallow puddle of beer. "''No'', you firelizard kisser," he continues a moment later, drunken mirth mostly under control. "I merely ''suggested'', uh... well." Grin fades as recollection begins. "Well, I just thought... y'know. Maybe she'd like a, uh. A recommendation. For 'er choice in... Weyrleader." Shifty eyes glance toward that pitcher again, contemplating.

D'kan stares at his mentor for a good long while, trying very hard to comprehend G'mli's explanation. Perhaps fearing to. Finally, he takes a slow breath and leans his forearms on the edge of the table. "You recommended yourself, didn't you," he states quietly, dark eyes twinkling a moment as he fights a grin. "Nice one." He also glances at the pitcher of beer but doesn't grab it himself, not quite up to enabling the other rider just now. "I'm going to go out on a limb and guess she didn't go for it."

"Didn' go for it," G'mli repeats under his breath, just before leaning to the side, just able to grab the handle so he can pull the pitcher back toward him. After a couple small spills, he manages to start filling his glass again, then holds it with forced concentration so the last few drops will fall where he wants them to fall. "She was shardin' ''insulting'', 's what she was," he rumbles more loudly, placing the empty pitcher on its side. "Implyin' that... that brownriders can't... the Weyr... doesn' ''want'' us." Which just killed all the leftover mirth, as he blinks quickly at the last of his beer.

D'kan watches all of this, from dripping beer to drooping brownrider, with a mildly stoney expression. "That doesn't quite," he begins, then stops to give G'mli a puzzled frown. "Implying isn't ''saying'', right? I mean..." Whatever he might mean, the explanation is kept to himself. After all, it would probably be lost on the sloshed rider, anyway. "Tell you what. Let's get you back to your weyr. You probably wouldn't want all that extra work anyway, right? When would you get to hang out down here again?" He's already started donning his winter gear again and slides out of the booth as he finishes talking, then moves to help G'mli to his feet.

Grudgingly, the brownrider allows himself to be hauled up, somehow managing to put on his hat, if crookedly, gloves and scarf are nowhere to be seen. Not that he's the one looking for them. There ''is'' a look for the last of that beer, but soon enough he's successfully steered toward the falling snow.

{{#ifexist: Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}} | <hr><hr><br><h2>Comments</h2>{{Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}}}} |<hr><hr>}}

}}

<comments />

HRW:Snowdrift Wing

2013-07-03T21:15:47Z

D'kan: Link

{{Wingleaders
|Wingleader=Mielline (blue Corobith)
|Wingsecond=R'vel (green Keshuath)
|Flight=Lower
|NPCs=''In no particular order...''
* D'leri, blue Driggath
* Mai, green Quesath
* Briora, green Ousath
* [[G'mli]], brown Durinth
}}

==Dynamics==

Snowdrift is a mid-weight wing, with a good balance of dragon colors and personalities. Since the end of the Comet Pass, Snowdrift's wingleader has been turning the wing's focus away from more traditional drilling, and exploring new techniques for keeping them busy. These shifts have included basic search and rescue training, diplomacy training and multi-dragon lifting and carrying - amongst numerous other things. The wing also encourages the interests of wingmembers, resulting in a wide range of skills and talents within the wing, making it ideal for any number of less traditional activities.

[[category:Wings]]

File:Icon g'mli blasted.jpg

2013-07-03T21:00:17Z

D'kan: D'kan moved page File:Icon g'mli blasted.JPG to File:Icon g'mli blasted.jpg

File:Icon g'mli blasted.JPG

2013-07-03T21:00:17Z

D'kan: D'kan moved page File:Icon g'mli blasted.JPG to File:Icon g'mli blasted.jpg

#REDIRECT [[File:Icon g'mli blasted.jpg]]

Logs:Campaign Colorblind

2013-07-03T20:59:02Z

D'kan: Last line of the last pose was missing.

{{ Log
| who = Azaylia, G'mli
| where = Storerooms, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Brownrider G'mli swears he has the solution to Azaylia's Weyrleader problem. She's not so sure.
| when = Day 15, Month 2, Turn 32
| gamedate = 2013.07.01
| quote = "That's ''profiling'', that's what that is!"
| weather =
| categories = General, Divided Leadership
| mentions = Taikrin
| ooc =
| icons = azaylia thinking.jpg, g'mli grar.jpg
| log = '''Storerooms, High Reaches Weyr'''

''Massive in scale, the Weyr's main storage passage connects to the kitchen on one end and the outbound tunnel on the other. Large enough to admit a wagon laden with goods, the tunnel easily permits the unloading and organization of supplies into the various storerooms.''

''Branching off from this corridor are multiple caverns, the nearer two being 'open' stores from which residents can readily help themselves, while the deeper stores are kept locked up tight with a posted sign and inventory hung on a hook outside of each. An alcove next to the public stores serves as a catch-all area for reshelving items whose destination is uncertain; two sets of stone shelving and several bins hold these items neatly until a stores assistant has a moment to deal with them.''

''Though the storage caverns vary in size, shape, and the smoothness of their walls, all belong to the same system: whitewashed walls, swept floors, and most importantly, neatly labeled and inventoried shelves providing ample space to stow all the supplies a busy Weyr needs. Though there's no direct internal lighting, a glowbasket may be brought in from the niche outside each cavern, the better to ward off pests and the inky dark of deep caves.''
----

Deep within the storerooms, past the open caverns and towards the locked provisions is where one Acting Weyrwoman and a kitchen worker are talking. The older woman's voice is naturally energetic, echoing off the whitewashed walls some, a contrast to Azaylia's whisper-soft tone. They're both looking over the inventory that's typically hung on one of the locked caverns, not quite arguing but the goldrider is being emphatically informed of something. "Oh. Well, if you're sure." The weyrwoman allows with an uncertain smile, hanging the inventory page back up, "Thank you, Marta." The worker seems pleased, offering her own pleasantries with a curt nod before turning to head back out of the stores and into the kitchen.

One of Snowdrift's stockier brownriders comes around the corner, bowlegged stride making him seem to waddle slightly. He tugs at his beard, eyes twinkling as he nods his head to Marta in passing. It's when he spots Azaylia, however, that G'mli speaks, his own voice putting the kitchen worker's to shame. "Ahhhh! Azaylia! Shells, girl, you're a hard one to track down," he announces, heading straight for her. Broad of shoulder but no taller than Azaylia, he plants himself right where he needs to, making sure the other rider can't just slip away. "I've had a mind to chat with you about something. Two minutes of your time! I promise." his voice booms, echoing slightly off the walls.

It's a good thing the page is already hanging safely by the time G'mli approaches, Azaylia letting out a startled squeak and giving a little jump. "M-me?" Of course, her. Standing a little straighter, the weyrwoman's smile is slightly strained but none the less welcoming. "I have two minutes." She tries to joke, looking to take a step and finding the brownrider right in front of her. Accommodating, she decides to stay where she is with hands folded in front of her, "What did you want to talk about?"

G'mli, looking pleased with himself, plants his fists on his hips. "It's about your other half," he says, almost in an undertone, though the volume jumps again the next moment with, "or should I say, your ''missing'' half. It seems clear to ''me'' you just aren't looking at the right riders!" He straightens to his full height so he's eye-to-eye with Azaylia. "See, you need someone smooth. ''Refined''. Good with the other riders, and ''strong'' enough," emphasizing by suddenly punching a fist into his palm, "to not end up in this current mess." Dark eyes twinkle again as he presumably smiles at her, though his bushy beard makes it hard to see. "What you need, my dear, is ''me''."

"Hraedhyth?" Azaylia's quiet guess is drowned out by the brownrider's exhuberance, which is probably for the best. Blinking wide, curious eyes at the brownrider, it doesn't take as long for the weyrwoman to realize what this is all about. There's a start at the meaty smack of fist against palm, but other than that she's wearing a bright smile. "''Oh.''" Things may seem to be going in the Snowdrift rider's favor until, "Thank you for showing an interest..?" Just as sweet as the rest of her words, asking for his name. "But I'm not... I don't think another brownrider is what's best for the Weyr right now."

Just like that, he's out of smiles, bushy eyebrows drawing down while dark eyes squint at Azaylia. "Oh ye ''don't'', eh?" he asks, far too quiet, relatively. He puts his fists on his hips again and blows out his mustache with a huff. "Just because ''you'' lot ended up with the ''wrong'' brownriders..." he grumbles, voice rumbling down to an unintelligible grumble as he looks away, then to the list on the wall, then back to Azaylia. "Know what that is?" he asks, far too nicely to be a good thing. Voice booms once more with "That's ''profiling'', that's what that is!" Voice drops again to an icy near whisper. "You're missing the only chance to save the Weyr, girl, an' it's on ''your'' shoulders." Where other people might storm off at that point, G'mli continues to stare at the goldrider, hands still on fists, bulk still blocking the way to freedom.

"It might be." Azaylia admits, airy voice carrying a thoughtful note as she does. "I just don't think it's what the Weyr needs--" Her explanation is cut off by G'mli's chilly accusation, the Acting Weyrwoman straightening suddenly, surprise obvious. When those don't seem to be his parting words, her shocked expression begins to melt into a firm stare. Not a glare. "There's always more than one way to fix things." That abandoned step is taken, uncomfortable but still invading the brownrider's space as she states firmly, quietly, "It ''is'' on my shoulders. And I'm not going to replace a... a bossy, a-arrogant brownrider with ''another'' one." Unintentionally mirroring his confident stance, her own fists rest on her hips, chin titled to try and gain a whisper of height on him.

Inexplicably, G'mli's face falls when Azaylia implies he's that other bossy brownrider. "Arrogant?" he asks, sounding genuinely hurt for a moment. Busy brows draw in and up and lips purse, pushing out his mustache slightly, though it's hard to tell with all that beard. "I... I didn't ''mean''..." He has nothing else, however, and steps back from the other rider, giving her plenty of room should she want it. The hands that had been at his hips are now worrying the bottom of his beard, not quite tangling it, but not making it any better either.

The weyrwoman stands her ground as G'mli falters, possibly not believing how quickly he's gone from being yes, arrogant, to not. Azaylia continues to watch as G'mli tries to find the words, her stern expression fading only after he pulls back. She takes a step forward, falters, and turns towards the brownrider. "You're not the first person to do this." Is she actually trying to soothe his worry? Of course she is. "If... if maybe you'd like to give me some advice on other riders?" There's always more than one way to help.

G'mli, so recently staring directly at Azaylia, is now looking anywhere but. For whatever reason, those previous words hit a chord, and he's still struggling with it. He's not going to cry or anything, but those dark eyes of his do get a bit more glittery than they were a moment earlier, and the booming voice is entirely gone. "No... no." Oops, his fingers twisted some of that hair into a tangle, so he starts smoothing it out. "My apologies... ma'am. It's just..." He's finally able to look at her face again, if fleetingly. "It was such a big deal in the ''beginning''. It was... a new dawn in a way." He forces his hands away from from the beard-fidgeting. "We went from being the not-bronzeriders to... ''something''. With ''potential''. But if it's a bronzerider you want, well." One of his hands waves backhanded toward the exit from the storerooms. "He's certainly out there somewhere, and good luck to you."

There's no doubt that his words have struck a chord, Azaylia's face falling into a pained, pinched wince. "I... That isn't what I... Of ''course'' brownriders are..." Now it's she who can't seem to find the words. "If Taikrin hadn't..." She gives up, sparing G'mli her insistent explanations; those beliefs that she so wishes were more wide spread. Instead, "I'm sorry." He may not have meant to dismiss her with those backhanded waves, but the weyrwoman takes it as such. Her retreat is a quick one, afraid of doing anymore damage.

G'mli will just stand here for a few more moments. Composing himself? Noooo, he's fine. ''Fine''. He watches Azaylia as she leaves, his glance askance and possibly a little guilty, though it's hard to tell with all that hair. Just after the weyrwoman is out of sight, there is a sound that closely resembles a foghorn. Either there's inclement weather entering the storerooms, or a certain downtrodden brownrider just blew his nose. Said brownrider then announces to the empty room that he needs a drink. And so he goes, damage done.

{{#ifexist: Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}} | <hr><hr><br><h2>Comments</h2>{{Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}}}} |<hr><hr>}}

}}

<comments />

Logs:Flying Fallout

2013-07-03T20:51:12Z

D'kan: Icon fix

{{ Log
| who = D'kan, G'mli
| where = Star Stones, High Reaches Weyr
| what = G'mli takes D'kan up for his first flight with Kazavoth. Then things go to hell in a handbasket.
| when = Day 6, Month 8, Turn 31
| gamedate = 2013.04.24
| quote = << She lives. >>
| weather = Warm sunshine and cloudless skies make for a beautiful day and pleasantly warm evening. A breeze tempers the heat with no humidity lingering in the air.
| categories = Vignette, Clutch 34
| mentions = Sabella, J'tor
| ooc = Vignette takes place parallel to [[Logs:A_Few_Seconds]].
| icons = d'kan concerned.png, d'kan kaz badnewsbrown.jpg, g'mli stunned.jpg
| log = Ever since receiving wingleading duty for the month, D'kan had been working with his mentor, G'mli. For the first several days, riding straps were constructed, fixed, reexamined, fixed, and tested, all while G'mli and his brown Durinth filled in D'kan and Kazavoth on all the ins and outs of flying (as they saw it). Then the day finally came to ''truly'' test.

In a different part of the bowl, Sabella and Ghislaith were in the middle of their own preparations for their first flight together, but D'kan had asked G'mli to handle his own first. Once they got past the first few annoyances a couple months back, the stocky rider had proven to be an insightful instructor, which was something D'kan both respected and appreciated, so it was a very quiet affair as the two browns crouched down to await their riders.

Kazavoth may have been half Durinth's size, but it still took D'kan twice as long to get situated on his brown's shoulders, though G'mli well played the part of the patient mentor, pretending to need extra time to get his straps and riding belt just right. Finally, though, they were ready. They hoped.

Dragon> Dull, hollow darkness echoed along the link before Durinth's low voice emerged, fine gravel cascading over the coarse. << Do not think. Just fly. Just like before. >> The instructions were simple, as all Durinth's instructions have been, his voice holding as much substance as wind through tunnels, as much weight as all the coal in Crom. (To Kazavoth from Durinth)

G'mli gave the signal, then his brown leapt into the air, dusty wings taking them every upward. Kazavoth needed a little more of a running start, still-growing wings still lacking the power for a dead lift-off. Soon enough, though, he was also airborne and announcing his rider's thrilling thoughts to all nearby with draconic ears to hear.

Dragon> Sparks of light exploded along every link within easy reach, an involuntary reaction to his rider's sudden elation. << We fly! >> Kazavoth announced to Durinth, to D'kan, to Faranth knows who. Simply announced to the world at large. The interruption quickly faded, however, as the young brown was mercifully distracted by the rest of the task at hand. (To nearby dragons from Kazavoth)

Rising in a lazy zigzag in the wake of the larger brown, Kazavoth did not rush. Speed was all well and good, but flight itself was the real thrill, only heightened by the emotions coming from his rider. D'kan was all smiles. That is to say, more than usual. He was also holding on for dear life, though more from the sensations of such a big "first" than any real fear or need.

Finally, the two joined G'mli and Durinth at the decided landing spot on the Star Stones. While Kazavoth needlessly filled in a far less enthusiastic Durinth, D'kan made his way down from his brown's shoulders only to get clapped hard on the shoulder by the other rider. Good thing he apparently lacked a fear of heights.

"See, lad?" G'mli was saying while D'kan kept his balance, "nothin' to it. As natural as sleeping. Just more dangerous." This did not seem to bother the older rider in the least.

D'kan had little to say to that just yet, in part because he was still catching his breath. The physical exertion was one thing. The adrenaline was another altogether. So he went on smiling, resting a hand on Kazavoth as he took in the view which felt like some sort of reward for the past several months.

He was about to say as much to his mentor when screams both along the link and down in the bowl ripped the reverie to shreds. While details were still hazy, the two riders were already mounting their dragons again. The careful double-checks were foregone, replaced by the instinct that came with their repeated exercises over the past seven. D'kan clipped back into Kazavoth's riding straps, and with barely a nod to G'mli, the two dragons dove from the heights to begin a tight spiral down to the ground.

Kazavoth's landing was not as tidy as it had been, solo, but that could have been a side effect from the torrent of thought coming from Ghislaith and the other dragons nearby. D'kan tried to slide from his brown's shoulders and discovered he'd only half unclipped himself. Fighting frustration and a brand new dose of adrenaline, he finally dropped to the ground in a flat-footed stumble, but by then he could only watch the scene in progress.

Eyes wide, D'kan saw Sabella on the ground and almost tentatively reached out to Kazavoth.

Dragon> Reluctance ebbs and flows in minuscule amounts, faint background noise to the thought that comes foremost from rider to dragon. << Is it bad? >> (D'kan to Kazavoth)

G'mli and Durinth were nearby, but being associated with the weyrlings only by way of mentoring D'kan and Kazavoth, it was time for them to go. The Snowdrift rider clasped a hand hard on D'kan's shoulder and gave it a shake, likely meant to be comforting in his own rough way. "Don't worry about today, lad," he said, voice gruffer than usual. "We'll try again, first thing tomorrow morning." He paused, then released the shoulder. Unable to do or say more, the older pair retreated while Kazavoth hunkered down, wings folded tightly to his back.

Dragon> The reluctance is batted easily to the side as Kazavoth reaches back to his rider, concerned warmth flooding their link. For once, the brown did not bombard those nearby with his thoughts and words. He merely observed. ''Quietly.'' << She lives, >> he answered, low and simple. Other thoughts echoed in the far distance, but they were hazy and kept largely private as the brown turned rather introspective. << This is not good. >> It has the tone of carrying further meaning, but the brown is not quite willing to share it. (Kazavoth to D'kan)

D'kan took a deep breath, then turned to begin unlatching Kazavoth's riding straps. "This is probably enough for one day," he murmurs, loud enough for only the brown. Lengths of leather are gathered and looped over his shoulder, then the weyrling gives Kaz a quick rub along his neck. By then, Sabella was being carefully moved, which D'kan watched in silence. Mostly.

Dragon> That trailing void is filled by D'kan as he reaches for the rest of that meaning. << It changes things, but not all things. >> A shimmer ran along their link, the unspoken agreement between lifemates. (D'kan to Kazavoth)

D'kan left Kazavoth to watch the rest of the scene while the weyrling quickly moved to the barracks so he could stow his riding gear. Minutes later, the Healers would find him waiting patiently in the infirmary, awaiting a chance to visit the injured wingsecond. ''His'' injured wingsecond, by whatever fates or schemes had deemed them such. It was turning into a very early lesson in just what all that meant, and the lesson was far from over.

----

The day after Sabella's accident, a note would be left on D'kan's cot:

:''Your Wingsecond has been incapacitated. It's up to you what happens next: do you replace her? Work out what duties she can perform and adjust accordingly? Lead the wing on your own? Hire a second Wingsecond?

:''The choice is yours, Wingleader.

----

'''Flying Fallout'''

The day of Sabella's accident was meant to be an exciting one. The current Flurry Wing's first two members were going to take the skies, given a sevenday's head start so they might be better able to lead their wing for the month. Unfortunately, Sabella took to the ground shortly after, fracturing her arm in the process. What does this mean for Flurry?

Hours after Sabella's accident, she and D'kan had a closed-doors discussion, the details of which have been kept fairly quiet. What isn't quiet is that the next day before drills, D'kan announced that while Sabella would not be able to perform aerial wingsecond duties later in the month due to her injury, she would still handle all other wingseconding duties. She's still helping make sure everyone's up and at 'em in the morning and making sure the weyrlings are presentable, still helping out with morning drills and strengthening exercises, and making sure the barracks don't start to degrade in orderliness and cleanliness!

However, as the rest of the weyrling wing prepares for their own first trips into the air with their dragons, D'kan needed to choose a backup wingsecond to help with the airborne exercises once they reach that point, and for that he has chosen J'tor, fellow brownrider to birch-brown Adrovanth. J'tor is a little on the young side, but a local (and notably lacking a silver thread), while Adrovanth is calm and methodical, and a fairly safe choice for this tumultuous month.

Dispelling rumors that the rest of the weyrlings' first flying trips will be postponed in response to the greenrider's accident, the response of this month's wing leadership is the same: stuff happens, we move on. As for rumors that those riding straps will be scrutinized more heavily? Yeah, that one's true. Expect some extra leather-working tasks, but do not fear; in just a few more days, everyone will get to try their hands (and arms) at flying.

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Logs:Campaign Colorblind

2013-07-03T20:45:30Z

D'kan: G'mli icon

{{ Log
| who = Azaylia, G'mli
| where = Storerooms, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Brownrider G'mli swears he has the solution to Azaylia's Weyrleader problem. She's not so sure.
| when = Day 15, Month 2, Turn 32
| gamedate = 2013.07.01
| quote = "That's ''profiling'', that's what that is!"
| weather =
| categories = General, Divided Leadership
| mentions = Taikrin
| ooc =
| icons = azaylia thinking.jpg, g'mli grar.jpg
| log = '''Storerooms, High Reaches Weyr'''

''Massive in scale, the Weyr's main storage passage connects to the kitchen on one end and the outbound tunnel on the other. Large enough to admit a wagon laden with goods, the tunnel easily permits the unloading and organization of supplies into the various storerooms.''

''Branching off from this corridor are multiple caverns, the nearer two being 'open' stores from which residents can readily help themselves, while the deeper stores are kept locked up tight with a posted sign and inventory hung on a hook outside of each. An alcove next to the public stores serves as a catch-all area for reshelving items whose destination is uncertain; two sets of stone shelving and several bins hold these items neatly until a stores assistant has a moment to deal with them.''

''Though the storage caverns vary in size, shape, and the smoothness of their walls, all belong to the same system: whitewashed walls, swept floors, and most importantly, neatly labeled and inventoried shelves providing ample space to stow all the supplies a busy Weyr needs. Though there's no direct internal lighting, a glowbasket may be brought in from the niche outside each cavern, the better to ward off pests and the inky dark of deep caves.''
----

Deep within the storerooms, past the open caverns and towards the locked provisions is where one Acting Weyrwoman and a kitchen worker are talking. The older woman's voice is naturally energetic, echoing off the whitewashed walls some, a contrast to Azaylia's whisper-soft tone. They're both looking over the inventory that's typically hung on one of the locked caverns, not quite arguing but the goldrider is being emphatically informed of something. "Oh. Well, if you're sure." The weyrwoman allows with an uncertain smile, hanging the inventory page back up, "Thank you, Marta." The worker seems pleased, offering her own pleasantries with a curt nod before turning to head back out of the stores and into the kitchen.

One of Snowdrift's stockier brownriders comes around the corner, bowlegged stride making him seem to waddle slightly. He tugs at his beard, eyes twinkling as he nods his head to Marta in passing. It's when he spots Azaylia, however, that G'mli speaks, his own voice putting the kitchen worker's to shame. "Ahhhh! Azaylia! Shells, girl, you're a hard one to track down," he announces, heading straight for her. Broad of shoulder but no taller than Azaylia, he plants himself right where he needs to, making sure the other rider can't just slip away. "I've had a mind to chat with you about something. Two minutes of your time! I promise." his voice booms, echoing slightly off the walls.

It's a good thing the page is already hanging safely by the time G'mli approaches, Azaylia letting out a startled squeak and giving a little jump. "M-me?" Of course, her. Standing a little straighter, the weyrwoman's smile is slightly strained but none the less welcoming. "I have two minutes." She tries to joke, looking to take a step and finding the brownrider right in front of her. Accommodating, she decides to stay where she is with hands folded in front of her, "What did you want to talk about?"

G'mli, looking pleased with himself, plants his fists on his hips. "It's about your other half," he says, almost in an undertone, though the volume jumps again the next moment with, "or should I say, your ''missing'' half. It seems clear to ''me'' you just aren't looking at the right riders!" He straightens to his full height so he's eye-to-eye with Azaylia. "See, you need someone smooth. ''Refined''. Good with the other riders, and ''strong'' enough," emphasizing by suddenly punching a fist into his palm, "to not end up in this current mess." Dark eyes twinkle again as he presumably smiles at her, though his bushy beard makes it hard to see. "What you need, my dear, is ''me''."

"Hraedhyth?" Azaylia's quiet guess is drowned out by the brownrider's exhuberance, which is probably for the best. Blinking wide, curious eyes at the brownrider, it doesn't take as long for the weyrwoman to realize what this is all about. There's a start at the meaty smack of fist against palm, but other than that she's wearing a bright smile. "''Oh.''" Things may seem to be going in the Snowdrift rider's favor until, "Thank you for showing an interest..?" Just as sweet as the rest of her words, asking for his name. "But I'm not... I don't think another brownrider is what's best for the Weyr right now."

Just like that, he's out of smiles, bushy eyebrows drawing down while dark eyes squint at Azaylia. "Oh ye ''don't'', eh?" he asks, far too quiet, relatively. He puts his fists on his hips again and blows out his mustache with a huff. "Just because ''you'' lot ended up with the ''wrong'' brownriders..." he grumbles, voice rumbling down to an unintelligible grumble as he looks away, then to the list on the wall, then back to Azaylia. "Know what that is?" he asks, far too nicely to be a good thing. Voice booms once more with "That's ''profiling'', that's what that is!" Voice drops again to an icy near whisper. "You're missing the only chance to save the Weyr, girl, an' it's on ''your'' shoulders." Where other people might storm off at that point, G'mli continues to stare at the goldrider, hands still on fists, bulk still blocking the way to freedom.

"It might be." Azaylia admits, airy voice carrying a thoughtful note as she does. "I just don't think it's what the Weyr needs--" Her explanation is cut off by G'mli's chilly accusation, the Acting Weyrwoman straightening suddenly, surprise obvious. When those don't seem to be his parting words, her shocked expression begins to melt into a firm stare. Not a glare. "There's always more than one way to fix things." That abandoned step is taken, uncomfortable but still invading the brownrider's space as she states firmly, quietly, "It ''is'' on my shoulders. And I'm not going to replace a... a bossy, a-arrogant brownrider with ''another'' one." Unintentionally mirroring his confident stance, her own fists rest on her hips, chin titled to try and gain a whisper of height on him.

Inexplicably, G'mli's face falls when Azaylia implies he's that other bossy brownrider. "Arrogant?" he asks, sounding genuinely hurt for a moment. Busy brows draw in and up and lips purse, pushing out his mustache slightly, though it's hard to tell with all that beard. "I... I didn't ''mean''..." He has nothing else, however, and steps back from the other rider, giving her plenty of room should she want it. The hands that had been at his hips are now worrying the bottom of his beard, not quite tangling it, but not making it any better either.

The weyrwoman stands her ground as G'mli falters, possibly not believing how quickly he's gone from being yes, arrogant, to not. Azaylia continues to watch as G'mli tries to find the words, her stern expression fading only after he pulls back. She takes a step forward, falters, and turns towards the brownrider. "You're not the first person to do this." Is she actually trying to soothe his worry? Of course she is. "If... if maybe you'd like to give me some advice on other riders?" There's always more than one way to help.

G'mli, so recently staring directly at Azaylia, is now looking anywhere but. For whatever reason, those previous words hit a chord, and he's still struggling with it. He's not going to cry or anything, but those dark eyes of his do get a bit more glittery than they were a moment earlier, and the booming voice is entirely gone. "No... no." Oops, his fingers twisted some of that hair into a tangle, so he starts smoothing it out. "My apologies... ma'am. It's just..." He's finally able to look at her face again, if fleetingly. "It was such a big deal in the ''beginning''. It was... a new dawn in a way." He forces his hands away from from the beard-fidgeting. "We went from being the not-bronzeriders to... ''something''. With ''potential''. But if it's a bronzerider you want, well." One of his hands waves backhanded toward the exit from the storerooms. "He's certainly out there somewhere, and good luck to you."

There's no doubt that his words have struck a chord, Azaylia's face falling into a pained, pinched wince. "I... That isn't what I... Of ''course'' brownriders are..." Now it's she who can't seem to find the words. "If Taikrin hadn't..." She gives up, sparing G'mli her insistent explanations; those beliefs that she so wishes were more wide spread. Instead, "I'm sorry." He may not have meant to dismiss her with those backhanded waves, but the weyrwoman takes it as such. Her retreat is a quick one, afraid of doing anymore damage.

G'mli will just stand here for a few more moments. Composing himself? Noooo, he's fine. ''Fine''. He watches Azaylia as she leaves, his glance askance and possibly a little guilty, though it's hard to tell with all that hair. Just after the weyrwoman is out of sight, there is a sound that closely resembles a foghorn. Either there's inclement weather entering the storerooms, or a certain downtrodden brownrider just blew his nose. Said brownrider then

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<comments />

File:Icon g'mli thinks.jpg

2013-07-03T20:44:22Z

D'kan:

File:Icon g'mli stunned.jpg

2013-07-03T20:44:10Z

D'kan:

File:Icon g'mli squint.jpg

2013-07-03T20:43:58Z

D'kan:

File:Icon g'mli pipe.jpg

2013-07-03T20:43:37Z

D'kan: D'kan moved page File:Icon gmli npc.jpg to File:Icon g'mli pipe.jpg

John Rhys-Davies

File:Icon gmli npc.jpg

2013-07-03T20:43:37Z

D'kan: D'kan moved page File:Icon gmli npc.jpg to File:Icon g'mli pipe.jpg

#REDIRECT [[File:Icon g'mli pipe.jpg]]

File:Icon g'mli soft.jpg

2013-07-03T20:42:30Z

D'kan:

File:Icon g'mli grar.jpg

2013-07-03T20:41:40Z

D'kan:

File:Icon g'mli blasted.jpg

2013-07-03T20:41:22Z

D'kan:

File:Icon g'mli.jpg

2013-07-03T20:40:58Z

D'kan:

G'mli

2013-07-03T20:40:15Z

D'kan:

{{NPCProfile
|picture=G'mli.jpg
|position=Snowdrift Wingrider
|dragon=Brown Durinth
|craft=
|birthplace=Crom Hold
|mother=
|father=
|siblings=
|children=
|friends=
|playedby=John Rhys-Davies
|owner=D'kan}}

== Description ==

== WYSK ==

About 5'9", broad in the shoulders and hips, and otherwise bushy, with dark auburn hair he's let grow out pretty much since Thread stopped falling. He's in his late 50's, still fit, but definitely headed toward the "portly" category someday. Impressed at High Reaches Weyr at the age of fifteen and has been with Snowdrift for all his fighting wing Turns. G'mli frequents the Snowasis and several of the nearby taverns, pubs and dives. He is an avid player of darts and cards, scoffs at dice, and can drink most men under the table.

Durinth is heavyset dark brown. He is a quiet dragon who says little to his fellow dragons, but when he does, it's usually relevant. Some might call him morose, but he's really just a strong introvert who often wishes his lifemate weren't quite so socially inclined.

== History ==

== Relationships ==

== RP Logs ==

{{RP Logs | name = {{BASEPAGENAME}} | columns = 3 }}

{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions}} | }}

{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments}} | }}

{{Icons}}

{{HRW}}

[[category:Characters]]
[[category:High Reaches Weyr]]
[[category:High Reaches Area]]
[[category:Greater Pern]]
[[category:Riders]]
[[category:Brownriders]]
[[category:Snowdrift Wing]]
[[category:NPCs]]

G'mli

2013-07-03T20:39:03Z

D'kan: Created page with "{{NPCProfile |picture=G'mli.jpg |position=Snowdrift Wingrider |dragon=Brown Durinth |craft= |birthplace=Crom Hold |mother= |father= |siblings= |children= |friends= |playedby=J..."

{{NPCProfile
|picture=G'mli.jpg
|position=Snowdrift Wingrider
|dragon=Brown Durinth
|craft=
|birthplace=Crom Hold
|mother=
|father=
|siblings=
|children=
|friends=
|playedby=John Rhys-Davies}}

== Description ==

== WYSK ==

About 5'9", broad in the shoulders and hips, and otherwise bushy, with dark auburn hair he's let grow out pretty much since Thread stopped falling. He's in his late 50's, still fit, but definitely headed toward the "portly" category someday. Impressed at High Reaches Weyr at the age of fifteen and has been with Snowdrift for all his fighting wing Turns. G'mli frequents the Snowasis and several of the nearby taverns, pubs and dives. He is an avid player of darts and cards, scoffs at dice, and can drink most men under the table.

Durinth is heavyset dark brown. He is a quiet dragon who says little to his fellow dragons, but when he does, it's usually relevant. Some might call him morose, but he's really just a strong introvert who often wishes his lifemate weren't quite so socially inclined.

== History ==

== Relationships ==

== RP Logs ==

{{RP Logs | name = {{BASEPAGENAME}} | columns = 3 }}

{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions}} | }}

{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments}} | }}

{{Icons}}

{{HRW}}

[[category:Characters]]
[[category:High Reaches Weyr]]
[[category:High Reaches Area]]
[[category:Greater Pern]]
[[category:Riders]]
[[category:Brownriders]]
[[category:Snowdrift Wing]]
[[category:NPCs]]

File:G'mli.jpg

2013-07-03T20:38:26Z

D'kan:

Logs:Statement of Affairs

2013-07-02T06:45:56Z

D'kan: Created page with "{{ Log | who = Alida, D'kan | where = Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr | what = Weyrling wingseconds meet for a drink and end up discussing something closer to home, which gets awk..."

{{ Log
| who = Alida, D'kan
| where = Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Weyrling wingseconds meet for a drink and end up discussing something closer to home, which gets awkward in a hurry.
| when = Day 17, Month 2, Turn 32
| gamedate = 2013.07.01
| quote = "Dunno how long our dragons'll stay kids."
| weather = Steady, today's snowfall sticks, creating dunes on the bowl floor.
| categories = General, Clutch 34
| mentions =
| ooc =
| icons = alida watchful.jpg, d'kan concerned.png
| log = :''Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr

:''The Snowasis is rarely quiet, and even then, the high-ceilinged former weyr is kept from echoing by the fantastical booths tucked into its convoluted perimeter. The secluded seating spaces have been shaped from the truncated stalagmites that escaped the smoothing of the main floor, and are both softened and separated by colorful hangings that are thick and opaque enough to make each corner its own private nook.

:''Some of the smaller stalactites still roam the ceiling, their jagged teeth tracing a bumpy, inverted spine to the hearth. There, a thick rug with a low klah table and comfortable armchairs and couches sit, their upholstery and cushions changed sporadically to match the season: bright, light colors in the summer, fresh greens and yellows in the spring, warm autumnals in fall, and clear, rich hues for winter. Small tables litter the rest of the cavern, enough to fit up to four people each, while stools stand along the smooth wooden bar behind which is the passthrough window to the kitchen. Glass-paneled cabinetry behind the bar provides a clear view of the available liquors, the many colors reflecting the soft light of glows tucked into strategic niches around the cavern.

----

Earlier found on Kazavoth's ledge, right at the entrance to D'kan's part of his weyr: a rolled up scrap of hide, bound with a bit of leather thong. When unrolled, it read (in elegant cursive writing): "Deke: 20:30; Snowasis. Let's have a drink." Nobody else calls him 'Deke' but Alida. And now, at 8:30pm 'Reaches local time? The blonde's found settled in one of the booths inside the bar - far towards the back - already kicking back and pouring herself a nice, hearty lager brew from a pitcher.

D'kan might have only just flown in given his appearance and attire, both looking a little windblown. He is, however, right on time. After a brief glance, Alida's bright blonde hair is easy to pick out, so the brownrider soon shows up at the booth, shedding winter riding gear with hopefully as little snow dislodging as possible. "Hope you're sharing that," he teases lightly, chin pointing toward the pitcher as he grins.

After spying him enter, Alida watches the brownie approach, giving him a pleasant nod along his way towards her. When D'kan spouts that, his fellow wingsecond smirks, notes amicably, "You kiddin'? The way ''this'' stuff's brewed, only take me 4 glasses ta' get decently schnockered." The brew she's imbibing ''does'' smell potent, yet pleasant: just enough hoppiness to give it the proper tang, yet deep and smooth. The pitcher is big enough for about 3 drinks apiece...so apparently the bluie's going to get herself nice and buzzed tonight, divvying it in half. "Enjoyin' winter, now that we're north again?" Dry humor and asperity are mixed in the blonde's easy alto.

"Is 'schnockered' the goal tonight?" D'kan asks lightly, grinning more as he finishes hanging his stuff out of the way and slides into the booth. He grabs his own glass and gives it a mild whiff before arching a brow at his fellow weyrling, then lifts it in a toast. "To winter, among other things that fail to kill us and only make us stronger." Followed by an appropriate quaffing of the drink.

"Shells, no. Just pleasantly buzzed," Alida notes from around a deep sip of the chilled brew, then lifting her pilsner glass to her companion. Scowl. "I friggin' ''deserve'' it." Sagenod. Peer. "An' so do ''you''." A point of one of her glass-holding hand's fingers at him presages her murmured, "Not terribly hungry...butcha' wanna' appetizer?" And then comes a sudden, solid yawn, quickly hidden behind her empty hand, irritably shaken off. She does appear rather less animated, perhaps somewhat tired.

D'kan grins at Alida from across the table before leaning back, beer glass held in both hands on the table's edge. "Just the drink, I think. Had something to eat earlier." He takes a sip of the beer and glances at the other Snowasis-goers for a moment before glancing at Alida again. "Heard anything yet about wing shadowing assignments?"

"Nothin' really." Sip. "Mebee' they've learned ta' keep their mouths shut after livin' here long enough." A soft snerk from Alida trails into green eyes noting her companion's state of being both in general and in detail, her gaze then slipping from D'kan to the throng of humanity all about...assessing before returning to her tablemate. "How you been during yer second round uv' 'seconding?"

"First, actually," D'kan replies, grinning once more, if crookedly. "The first round was as wingleader. Wingseconding is much easier, especially with two of us." He takes yet another sip, making steady work of that first glass of beer, pausing about mid-gulp to wave to a passing group of Snowdrifters, familiar by now after the weyrlings' work with them during the last month or so. They soon pass on, however, and D'kan turns back to Alida. "What about you? Think it suits you? 'Seconding?"

"Dauymn... I must be gettin' old, 'r somethin'..." Alida lips off in reply, shaking her head, donning a bit of a self-depreciating smirk. "Still wonderin' why Sabella chose us... me." Shrug, sip. Watching Deke wave to the members of that Wing, the blonde soon transfers her gaze to the deep golden liquid in her glass, watching the bubbles rise within it. "Yeah. Lettin' me get an even better feel fer things the second time around. Be lyin' if I said I didn' like most uv it." A wan bit of a smile presages her mellow, "Got any favorites?" Beat. "Wing choices."

D'kan shrugs slightly, hands opening, fingers splayed while the heels of his palms remain resting against the glass. "Maybe... because we're older than some of the others? We don't break when people lean on us?" There's another smaller shrug before he lifts the glass to his lips again for a brief sip. "What ''do'' you like about it?" he asks before laughing softly about the wing choices. "Yeah, but... well. I'm reserving judgement until after we've been able to do some more in-depth shadowing, you know?" He pokes at some of the condensation on the glass. "I mean, I know stuff like this isn't permanent, but it still matters. Better to get it right the first time."

She watches how he grips his glass with some small curiosity, greens flicking from D'kan's fingertips up the digits, to his hands, then up arms to meet his dark gaze again. "Maybe." More drinking soon shifts into a ready answer for her companion. "The ''order''." Smirk. "The way things run smoothly when we got it all down. We're like some kinda Smith's machine, in a way; all these seperate parts, but workin' as a whole ta' make a machine that accomplishes every goal we want it to...Threadfall 'r rescue, pirates 'r scavengin'." Grin. His own answer about Wings choices remaining flexible until later gets the palest-blonde's head nodding a little, her lips returning to her own glass. "Absolutely..." is noted in a tone that agrees with the brownrider, 'lida then casting her glance over to the glows that help light up their booth some. Quietly: "You...uh...still in the same...straights as last time?" Another long sip nearly drain her glass, the woman flicking her eyes barely across D'kan, then over to the bar rather quickly. "Y'know...when we talked...up on the Rim."

D'kan can definitely agree about the order of things, nodding as Alida describes the benefits. He's otherwise quiet, just nodding and and sipping at his beer. Until the bluerider asks her question. At first there's confusion, but then she clarifies. For a couple seconds, D'kan's expression goes blank, but then he leans back to finish his beer and sets the glass aside. "Well. Not what I was expecting," he admits quietly, leaning forward enough to cross his arms on the edge of the table. The brownrider goes quiet again for a brief pause, then looks up at Alida. "Guess you could say that. Why do you ask?"

Yeah...she thought he'd remember, after a bit. Another round is poured for herself and Deke while he looks at her and she at the beer, the blonde speaking quietly, in the meantime. "Dunno how long our dragons'll stay kids." In ''that'' way, she hints silently. "Don' want this whole, upcomin' Flights thing ta be..." Here, she takes a quick swallow of her her new beer, glancing up at D'kan for a moment again, then looking away. "...unpleasant." Pause. "'Cause people like us decided ta wait too long."

D'kan moves the refilled glass closer but does not drink again just yet, instead letting things go quiet for a likely uncomfortable moment as he fidgets where he's sitting. "Yeah, it's been on my mind," he admits truthfully, then falls silent again to quietly turn the beer glass in its spot on the table. "The thing is, it's not the same for guys, from what I can tell." He's definitely squirming now, not quite able to look up at Alida just yet. "And I know, living in a Weyr, and being riders and all, it's supposed to be different somehow, but it doesn't ''feel'' different from what my parents taught me. And what they taught me was that it's something special. So... I'm not going to 'get it over with'," complete with quotation fingers, "just to get it out of the way." At this point, he finally looks over at Alida, both concern and embarrassment discernible in his expression. "But that's how it is for me. Maybe I'll be an eternal non-flight virgin for the rest of my life. I don't know. But... that's where I am with it. So..." He has nothing more helpful to say, it seems, so he takes a much-needed sip of beer.

In a way, while D'kan talks, admits his stance to her, Alida's relieved, the blonde seen to deflate and unstiffen some behind her glass as she nods silently to her tablemate, her greens once again finally able to meet his own browns. Once he's done speaking, and they're done doing the dual squirm, she murmurs, "I was raised holder, too... but a Guard." Sigh. "My ma' passed when I was little, 'n da' disappeared in a snowstorm when I was eleven." A heavy swallow of beer allows her to continue. "Had a few folks kinda' help raise me up after that, but..." Shrug. There were likely conflicts. "Thanks fer...sharin', Deke." Guzzle. "Yeah...different fer the boys 'n the girls." A sudden, harsh bark of caustic laughter gets her looked at by some nearby folks for a moment, and that causes Alida to shut up. "Won't bother ya again about it."

There is a momentary look of mild shock on D'kan's face as Alida shares some rather personal information with him. Possibly a first, aside from the already mentioned state of affairs down below. His expression settles quickly, however, as Alida continues, and he winces a little at the end. "Alida... this won't go beyond the two of us, I promise. And I'm pretty touched and flattered that you'd come to me." Concern has definitely overtaken any embarrassment at this point. "No matter how many times I thought about it, though, I came to the same conclusion, and..." He grimaces and looks down at his beer for a few long seconds before he looks over at Alida again. "There are other guys. ''Good'' guys. Discreet. But I'm not the one who can help you, and I really am sorry about that."

She's very careful with who gets to see those judiciously metered-out parts of her life, and since D'kan was so kind as so share something quite sensitive with Alida - and not be an ass about it - she felt as if it was decent to level the playing field. A grave dip of her head to his promise is offered, the guard then murmuring, "I promise, too." Her final word is like platinum. Drink. "If I was a guy... I think I'd do what yer doin', too." but her world might be even more hellish if she screws up. ''So'' wonderful, being female. "I respect yer take on it." Very much, if her intense greens can silent speak so. And then there's a rough snort and a shake of head, more beer downed after her tablemate again speaks. "Been...thinkin' about those kinds. Not comin' up with any who fit the bill." Snerk.

Out of useful things to add, D'kan ends up drinking a good portion of that second beer, finally slowing to a stop as Alida talks about fitting the bill. "Maybe... at another of the Weyrs," he half suggests, half asks. "Or find out from the Healers if there's... um." Again with the uncomfortable squirming. "You know, another way to..." He starts to gesture, then suddenly presses his hands to the table. Right, let's not gesture ''that''. Not ''here''. And embarrassment returns, tenfold, apparently exceeding D'kan's quota for the day, because he's quickly emptying that second glass of beer and scooting to the side. "Next time, drinks are on me. And it will be stress free and fun," he promises. Is that sweat on his forehead? That, or it started raining indoors. He pauses in the act of grabbing his gear, then looks at Alida again, anguish warring with everything else now. "Alida... I'm so sorry." Which is his farewell for the night, as he hurries into the winter air, all his gear still in his arms.

She too is starting to squrim again inside, and it keeps the woman from looking directly into Deke's eyes again, especially when he can't find words anymore. As the brownie heaves his form up to leave, the bluie can't help but nodding like a sunstruck wherry on autopilot, then peer at his eyebrow for a few moments...and smile rather sheepishly. "Don't be..." is noted around a sigh, the blonde then waving him off...and slowly finishing the rest of her beer, and the pitcher. She sits there, quiet and alone for another 15 minutes, becoming heavily buzzed indeed, until her new, and hungry-itchy firelizard shows up and asks to be tended by rubbing herself against the woman's arms in direct fashion. With a small sigh, up the weyrling levers herself - Pyrite skittering under her human's braid and draping herself upon Alida's neck - then moving slowly, but steadily out to where Ilicaeth stands in the snow. Up he tries to help her to his neck, reminding the slightly drunk human to fasten two straps, and then up he flies to their weyr, where the long-suffering blue directs his lifemate to tend to her new 'pet' then herself before she plows into her bed for sleep. Maybe Ilicaeth will have to tend to the teensie gold fledgeling if Alida can't wake up in three hours. No wonder she looked tired, before; it's the first month of weyrlinghood all over again...in miniature.

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Logs:Whose Line Is It Anyway?

2013-06-28T07:58:32Z

D'kan: I forgot the mention part.

{{ Log
| who = Alida, D'kan, K'zin, Telavi
| where = Secluded Cove, Southern Continent
| what = Weyrlings are stuck. Things get awkward, then less so. For now.
| when = Day 7, Month 2, Turn 32
| gamedate = 2013.06.27
| quote = "It's wet."
| weather = Storming away
| categories = General, Clutch 34
| mentions = Quinlys
| ooc = We tried limiting ourselves to poses just one screenwidth in length, though of course our screens have different widths.
| icons = alida watchful.jpg, alida ilicaeth reddustdevil.jpg, d'kan askance.jpg, telavi really.png, telavi solith shadow.png, k'zin shocked.jpg, k'zin rasavyth lookdown.jpg
| log = :''Secluded Cove, Southern Continent

:''As camping spots go, this one is pretty much perfect. It's a secluded little cove, with a white sand beach that extends as far as the cliffs on either side, and a perfectly pristine blue-green lagoon whose waves lap gently upon the shore. A distant sandbar provides some protection from the full force of the ocean, as do those rocky cliffs-- in a boat, it could be treacherous, but if one sticks to the lagoon, it's perfectly designed.

:''Inland, there are caves in the cliff-face; it's even possible to climb up to the higher ground beyond, where there's wild fruit to be collected, and perhaps even animals to hunt. Of course, there's also plenty of fish: some brightly coloured, some less so, and many of them safe to eat.

:''Tents have been strung from some of the trees, but on clear nights one might equally be inclined to sleep out under the stars, or around the campfires; how often do you get the excuse to do that, after all!

----

"It's wet," K'zin complains.

"And smelly," Telavi contributes.

Alida says, "At least it's warm."

K'zin's sigh turns into a frown as he moves toward the fire.

Telavi huddles under her blanket, tugging it up over her shoulders.

Alida continues to frown softly as she tends the fire.

"Can we go home now?" K'zin asks as he flops down beside Telavi.

Making room, Tela murmurs, "We wouldn't have to get ''far'' off the ground."

Alida says, "There's wood in 'ere. I got some nails. Build a friggin' palatte." Grump.

"For what?" K'zin's head tilts as a hand reaches for Tela's blanket.

"For..." Tela stops, then just huddles some more, heedless of hoarding hands.

"She wants off the ground," Alida replies, jerking her thumb backwards at Tela.

K'zin exchanges a look with Telavi, hand stilling. "I'm-- confused?"

''Tela'' looks confused. Then, "Oh! Off, for ''betweening''." ''Home''.

"More like fuckin' ''daft''." Cue an Alida 'eyeroll'. "A pallate lifts ya off the ground."

K'zin's helpless eyes slide between Telavi and Alida. "Still confused."

"But..." Telavi tries, "Dragons ''between'' off the ground, not pallets."

"Wet." Alida points to Waki. "Ground." A point down. "BUILD. A. PALLATE."

K'zin looks between the two women, and gets up. Shaking his head as he exits. Into the rain.

Telavi glances after him, then up to Alida. "I... don't think he liked that."

"What's there ta like?" It's sour, testy, grumpy witness from the bluie.

Tela's not above taking some of that abandoned space back. "Exactly."

Moving to cave-back for a driftwood log, Alida drags it back near the fire, sits down upon it.

"''That's'' not a pallet," Telavi points out.

"You want one, then build it," the blonde spits out. *She's* just tired of crouching.

"I ''never wanted'' to build one," Telavi points out that too.

Alida points out of the cave, then grumbles, "''He'' complained about bein' wet."

"So he went out into the rain to get wetter." Telavi's, yes, smiling.

Crazy makes people do weird things. "Apparently," Alida needlessly announces.

"While ''I'' just want to go ''home'' and don't see why we ''can't''." Tela.

Glare. "Cause it's an exercise, not just a vacation," Alida growls at Tela.

Telavi, ''dubious''. "I bet Quinlys doesn't want to put up with us either."

"Then the feelin's fuckin' mutual," Alida gripes. They can ''all'' go to hell.

"So all we have to do," Tela reasons, "is get on, get off the ground, go."

Alida: "That huge STORM ragin' out there'll take over a day ta clear off! Are ya ''daft''?!"

Telavi, brightly: "Did you know your eyes ''sparkle'' when you're pissed?"

Alida, too sweetly: "D'ya know my fist aches ta beat ya' when yer like that?"

Telavi, demurely: "Oh, ''Alida''. Aching for a girl like me? How sweet."

A creature of impulse, Alida turns about, grabs Tela by the shirt, and jerks her into her face for a rough, urgent kiss.

Telavi'd been ''sitting'' ''innocently''. Now? Biting at Alida's lower lip.

Shut Tela up; blow off Alida's steam and sudden ardor: the kiss becomes... something else, the bluie jerking her face away quickly, gargling in pain.

'''Clunk.''' Bucket hits ground. Water splashes. K'zin, open-mouthed.

And so ''Tela'' yanks at ''Alida''. "Sit. Or do you like putting on a show?"

In some pain, humiliated, angry as hell, Alida avoids Tela's hands as she jerks to her feet, storming past Waki out into... the storm.

''Shit''. Gape to grimace, K'zin gives Telavi a look: ''seriously''?

Pulling herself together, staring after Alida, Tela spots K'zin. "''What''?"

Dragon> After some moments for getting things clear: << She's comin' ta me, so leave 'er alone. >> from Ilicaeth to Rasavyth...darkly.

Disgruntled, "''Nothing''." Then he does it. K'zin ''rolls his eyes''.

Dragon> Solith, huddled, damp, unhappy, ''still'': << No drowning. >> (To Ilicaeth from Solith)

Dragon> Grit and ooze, << He wants to hug her. >> (To Ilicaeth from Rasavyth)

Dragon> Controlled, ocher dust-devil: << Stay away. >> Stupid humans. (To Rasavyth from Ilicaeth)

Dragon> Controlled, yet still fuming, deep concern; he knows this has nothing to do with Solith: << She is with me. >> (To Solith from Ilicaeth)

Which gets a disbelieving look from Tela. "Why are you even..." She gets up.

Dragon> << Good. We want her safe. >> (To Ilicaeth from Solith)

Dragon> Static. He's busy. (To Solith from Ilicaeth)

Dragon> Consideration. Apology. << He won't. She is his friend. >> (To Ilicaeth from Rasavyth)

"She's my friend." As if that explains. What does that make Tela to K'zin?

Tela pales, hit. Tightly, "''Who just macked on me without warning.''"

"Sorry. My fault." However that works. K'zin turns to follow Alida.

Not helping. Unable to throw the driftwood, Tela stalks over to sit on it.

He goes. Toward Ilicaeth. Rasavyth follows K'zin; dragonly back-up, in case.

Beneath partial tree canopy: Ilicaeth and Alida, the blue's wing extended over her unseeable form...his eyes lavender.

K'zin and Rasavyth stop nearby. Both sit, wait, and get drenched.

Dragon> Lavender eyes trained upon them; dessicated, dark baritone sand: << Gonna be a looong time. Get 'im under yer wing, stupid. >>

It ''is'' a long time, relatively, before Rasavyth extends a wing. They wait.

Eventually a couple other weyrlings show up from beyond a twist in the cave, settling before the fire. One looks around, because weren't others here before?

By then Tela can smile, dropping into chatter. Never mind red eyes, pink nose.

D'kan makes an appearance from the back of the cave, in... slightly less soaking wet clothing that he may attempt to wear dry as he takes up a station next to the fire, dark eyes peering into the storm.

More chatter, nothing too important, beer in there somewhere. Tela looks over.

There is no more water to be wrung from the clothing. D'kan gives the others a look. "Anything stronger than beer?"

"When we get ''back''." Tela, with a shiver, a glance out to the storm.

The other two slide back to the deeper cave: in search of a stash?

"Fair enough." D'kan is quiet, introspective, or just plain cold. Gaze falls to that blanket. "Care to share?"

A downward glance, then, "Why not." Tela's eyes are still red. She makes room.

The damp is likely not a pleasant addition, but the warmth would be, and D'kan is quite warm. "Any news?"

Wanting the blanket. Warm. Tela, dubious, yet not arguing. "None you want."

Damp fades when warmth overtakes. D'kan, curious, "Such as?"

''Warm''. Telavi's leaning, not leaving. "Messy." Whispered, "Alida ran off."

Perplexed, D'kan looks from Telavi to Outside. "Into ''that''? Why?" Direct.

Tela squishes down into the blanket. "She sort of kissed me?" It was that bad?

Perplexed turns to bewildered. "''She'' did?" D'kan questions, then, "What's 'sort of'?"

"'Sort of.'" Tela peeks at him out of one eye. "Because... it's awkward?"

That gives D'kan pause as he frowns at the gloom. "Aren't all kisses awkward?" Maybe for him.

One eye, two eyes, wide eyes at D'kan. "''No''." Tela states this like a fact.

D'kan's eyes meet Telavi's, his own confused. "No? But... she ran. Where's K'zin?"

"No. Promis..." She ''winces'', extra pale now. "Took out after her."

The wince is just more confusing. D'kan shakes his head, looks out again, huddling.

She huddles too, Later, her voice small, "Because I bit her. To stop."

He doesn't mean to laugh, but can't stop. Maybe it's the cold. "Shells, Tela."

Injured, defensive, "Well, what would ''you'' have done?"

D'kan's chipmunk cheeks get rounder as he grins. "Was it out of the blue or something?"

"Yes." Tela, still muttery. "We were arguing... Don't sound so happy about it."

"Not happy, just impressed," D'kan counters. "Guess she's not into bites?"

"It wasn't ''that kind'' of bite." ''Still'' muttery. "There's a difference."

"Guess I wouldn't know," D'kan informs her, still grinning. "Do you usually bite?"

He gets a narrow look for it. "If I did, it would be better than ''awkward''."

"Good point," he allows, then shoulder nudges, easy under the blanket. "You okay?"

"Yes," she begins, starting to nudge back. "...No. But I have to be, don't I."

He turns back to her, direct again. "You ''don't'' have to be. Not by force."

"By ''surprise''," Tela's quick to say. "I mean, she... but she didn't..."

"You weren't... prepared?" D'kan ventures, fishing for an answer.

"Well, we were ''arguing''," so yes, but, "Surprises are fun too. I think."

D'kan stares at the fire for guidance. Nods. "Sometimes." Skeptic.

"Sometimes." Tela can agree there, leaning her head to his shoulder, too. Sigh.

Silence reigns, aside from the crackle of the fire. Blankets are warm. The end.

Dragon> It comes after about an hour, Ilicaeth still terse, though not angry: << She sends apologies to yours. >> Not 'Telavi.' (To Solith from Ilicaeth)

Dragon> The answer comes delayed, Solith's tone waterlogged. << ''She'' should tell her. >> (To Ilicaeth from Solith)

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Logs:Whose Line Is It Anyway?

2013-06-28T05:45:20Z

D'kan:

{{ Log
| who = Alida, D'kan, K'zin, Telavi
| where = Secluded Cove, Southern Continent
| what = Weyrlings are stuck. Things get awkward, then less so. For now.
| when = Day 7, Month 2, Turn 32
| gamedate = 2013.06.27
| quote = "It's wet."
| weather = Storming away
| categories = General, Clutch 34
| mentions =
| ooc =
| icons = d'kan askance.jpg
| log = :''Secluded Cove, Southern Continent

:''As camping spots go, this one is pretty much perfect. It's a secluded little cove, with a white sand beach that extends as far as the cliffs on either side, and a perfectly pristine blue-green lagoon whose waves lap gently upon the shore. A distant sandbar provides some protection from the full force of the ocean, as do those rocky cliffs-- in a boat, it could be treacherous, but if one sticks to the lagoon, it's perfectly designed.

:''Inland, there are caves in the cliff-face; it's even possible to climb up to the higher ground beyond, where there's wild fruit to be collected, and perhaps even animals to hunt. Of course, there's also plenty of fish: some brightly coloured, some less so, and many of them safe to eat.

:''Tents have been strung from some of the trees, but on clear nights one might equally be inclined to sleep out under the stars, or around the campfires; how often do you get the excuse to do that, after all!

----

"It's wet," K'zin complains.

"And smelly," Telavi contributes.

Alida says, "At least it's warm."

K'zin's sigh turns into a frown as he moves toward the fire.

Telavi huddles under her blanket, tugging it up over her shoulders.

Alida continues to frown softly as she tends the fire.

"Can we go home now?" K'zin asks as he flops down beside Telavi.

Making room, Tela murmurs, "We wouldn't have to get ''far'' off the ground."

Alida says, "There's wood in 'ere. I got some nails. Build a friggin' palatte." Grump.

"For what?" K'zin's head tilts as a hand reaches for Tela's blanket.

"For..." Tela stops, then just huddles some more, heedless of hoarding hands.

"She wants off the ground," Alida replies, jerking her thumb backwards at Tela.

K'zin exchanges a look with Telavi, hand stilling. "I'm-- confused?"

''Tela'' looks confused. Then, "Oh! Off, for ''betweening''." ''Home''.

"More like fuckin' ''daft''." Cue an Alida 'eyeroll'. "A pallate lifts ya off the ground."

K'zin's helpless eyes slide between Telavi and Alida. "Still confused."

"But..." Telavi tries, "Dragons ''between'' off the ground, not pallets."

"Wet." Alida points to Waki. "Ground." A point down. "BUILD. A. PALLATE."

K'zin looks between the two women, and gets up. Shaking his head as he exits. Into the rain.

Telavi glances after him, then up to Alida. "I... don't think he liked that."

"What's there ta like?" It's sour, testy, grumpy witness from the bluie.

Tela's not above taking some of that abandoned space back. "Exactly."

Moving to cave-back for a driftwood log, Alida drags it back near the fire, sits down upon it.

"''That's'' not a pallet," Telavi points out.

"You want one, then build it," the blonde spits out. *She's* just tired of crouching.

"I ''never wanted'' to build one," Telavi points out that too.

Alida points out of the cave, then grumbles, "''He'' complained about bein' wet."

"So he went out into the rain to get wetter." Telavi's, yes, smiling.

Crazy makes people do weird things. "Apparently," Alida needlessly announces.

"While ''I'' just want to go ''home'' and don't see why we ''can't''." Tela.

Glare. "Cause it's an exercise, not just a vacation," Alida growls at Tela.

Telavi, ''dubious''. "I bet Quinlys doesn't want to put up with us either."

"Then the feelin's fuckin' mutual," Alida gripes. They can ''all'' go to hell.

"So all we have to do," Tela reasons, "is get on, get off the ground, go."

Alida: "That huge STORM ragin' out there'll take over a day ta clear off! Are ya ''daft''?!"

Telavi, brightly: "Did you know your eyes ''sparkle'' when you're pissed?"

Alida, too sweetly: "D'ya know my fist aches ta beat ya' when yer like that?"

Telavi, demurely: "Oh, ''Alida''. Aching for a girl like me? How sweet."

A creature of impulse, Alida turns about, grabs Tela by the shirt, and jerks her into her face for a rough, urgent kiss.

Telavi'd been ''sitting'' ''innocently''. Now? Biting at Alida's lower lip.

Shut Tela up; blow off Alida's steam and sudden ardor: the kiss becomes... something else, the bluie jerking her face away quickly, gargling in pain.

'''Clunk.''' Bucket hits ground. Water splashes. K'zin, open-mouthed.

And so ''Tela'' yanks at ''Alida''. "Sit. Or do you like putting on a show?"

In some pain, humiliated, angry as hell, Alida avoids Tela's hands as she jerks to her feet, storming past Waki out into... the storm.

''Shit''. Gape to grimace, K'zin gives Telavi a look: ''seriously''?

Pulling herself together, staring after Alida, Tela spots K'zin. "''What''?"

Dragon> After some moments for getting things clear: << She's comin' ta me, so leave 'er alone. >> from Ilicaeth to Rasavyth...darkly.

Disgruntled, "''Nothing''." Then he does it. K'zin ''rolls his eyes''.

Dragon> Solith, huddled, damp, unhappy, ''still'': << No drowning. >> (To Ilicaeth from Solith)

Dragon> Controlled, yet still fuming, deep concern; he knows this has nothing to do with Solith: << She is with me. >> (To Solith from Ilicaeth)

Which gets a disbelieving look from Tela. "Why are you even..." She gets up.

Dragon> << Good. We want her safe. >> (To Ilicaeth from Solith)

Dragon> Static. He's busy. (To Solith from Ilicaeth)

"She's my friend." As if that explains. What does that make Tela to K'zin?

Tela pales, hit. Tightly, "''Who just macked on me without warning.''"

"Sorry. My fault." However that works. K'zin turns to follow Alida.

Dragon> It comes after about an hour, Ilicaeth still terse, though not angry: << She sends apologies to yours. >> Not 'Telavi.' (To Solith from Ilicaeth)

Not helping. Unable to throw the driftwood, Tela stalks over to sit on it.

He goes. Toward Ilicaeth. Rasavyth follows K'zin; dragonly back-up, in case.

Beneath partial tree canopy: Ilicaeth and Alida, the blue's wing extended over her unseeable form...his eyes lavender.

K'zin and Rasavyth stop nearby. Both sit, wait, and get drenched.

Dragon> Lavender eyes trained upon them; dessicated, dark baritone sand: << Gonna be a looong time. Get 'im under yer wing, stupid. >>

It ''is'' a long time, relatively, before Rasavyth extends a wing. They wait.

Eventually a couple other weyrlings show up from beyond a twist in the cave, settling before the fire. One looks around, because weren't others here before?

By then Tela can smile, dropping into chatter. Never mind red eyes, pink nose.

D'kan makes an appearance from the back of the cave, in... slightly less soaking wet clothing that he may attempt to wear dry as he takes up a station next to the fire, dark eyes peering into the storm.

More chatter, nothing too important, beer in there somewhere. Tela looks over.

There is no more water to be wrung from the clothing. D'kan gives the others a look. "Anything stronger than beer?"

"When we get ''back''." Tela, with a shiver, a glance out to the storm.

The other two slide back to the deeper cave: in search of a stash?

"Fair enough." D'kan is quiet, introspective, or just plain cold. Gaze falls to that blanket. "Care to share?"

A downward glance, then, "Why not." Tela's eyes are still red. She makes room.

The damp is likely not a pleasant addition, but the warmth would be, and D'kan is quite warm. "Any news?"

Wanting the blanket. Warm. Tela, dubious, yet not arguing. "None you want."

Damp fades when warmth overtakes. D'kan, curious, "Such as?"

''Warm''. Telavi's leaning, not leaving. "Messy." Whispered, "Alida ran off."

Perplexed, D'kan looks from Telavi to Outside. "Into ''that''? Why?" Direct.

Tela squishes down into the blanket. "She sort of kissed me?" It was that bad?

Perplexed turns to bewildered. "''She'' did?" D'kan questions, then, "What's 'sort of'?"

"'Sort of.'" Tela peeks at him out of one eye. "Because... it's awkward?"

That gives D'kan pause as he frowns at the gloom. "Aren't all kisses awkward?" Maybe for him.

One eye, two eyes, wide eyes at D'kan. "''No''." Tela states this like a fact.

D'kan's eyes meet Telavi's, his own confused. "No? But... she ran. Where's K'zin?"

"No. Promis..." She ''winces'', extra pale now. "Took out after her."

The wince is just more confusing. D'kan shakes his head, looks out again, huddling.

She huddles too, Later, her voice small, "Because I bit her. To stop."

He doesn't mean to laugh, but can't stop. Maybe it's the cold. "Shells, Tela."

Injured, defensive, "Well, what would ''you'' have done?"

D'kan's chipmunk cheeks get rounder as he grins. "Was it out of the blue or something?"

"Yes." Tela, still muttery. "We were arguing... Don't sound so happy about it."

"Not happy, just impressed," D'kan counters. "Guess she's not into bites?"

"It wasn't ''that kind'' of bite." ''Still'' muttery. "There's a difference."

"Guess I wouldn't know," D'kan informs her, still grinning. "Do you usually bite?"

He gets a narrow look for it. "If I did, it would be better than ''awkward''."

"Good point," he allows, then shoulder nudges, easy under the blanket. "You okay?"

"Yes," she begins, starting to nudge back. "...No. But I have to be, don't I."

He turns back to her, direct again. "You ''don't'' have to be. Not by force."

"By ''surprise''," Tela's quick to say. "I mean, she... but she didn't..."

"You weren't... prepared?" D'kan ventures, fishing for an answer.

"Well, we were ''arguing''," so yes, but, "Surprises are fun too. I think."

D'kan stares at the fire for guidance. Nods. "Sometimes." Skeptic.

"Sometimes." Tela can agree there, leaning her head to his shoulder, too. Sigh.

Silence reigns, aside from the crackle of the fire. Blankets are warm. The end.

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Logs:Whose Line Is It Anyway?

2013-06-28T05:44:57Z

D'kan: Created page with "{{ Log | who = Alida, D'kan, K'zin, Telavi | where = Secluded Cove, Southern Continent | what = Weyrlings are stuck. Things get awkward, then less so. For now. | when = Day ..."

{{ Log
| who = Alida, D'kan, K'zin, Telavi
| where = Secluded Cove, Southern Continent
| what = Weyrlings are stuck. Things get awkward, then less so. For now.
| when = Day 7, Month 2, Turn 32
| gamedate = 2013.06.27
| quote = "It's wet."
| weather = Storming away
| categories = General, Clutch 34
| mentions =
| ooc =
| icons = d'kan askance.jpg
| log = :''Secluded Cove, Southern Continent

:''As camping spots go, this one is pretty much perfect. It's a secluded little cove, with a white sand beach that extends as far as the cliffs on either side, and a perfectly pristine blue-green lagoon whose waves lap gently upon the shore. A distant sandbar provides some protection from the full force of the ocean, as do those rocky cliffs-- in a boat, it could be treacherous, but if one sticks to the lagoon, it's perfectly designed.

:''Inland, there are caves in the cliff-face; it's even possible to climb up to the higher ground beyond, where there's wild fruit to be collected, and perhaps even animals to hunt. Of course, there's also plenty of fish: some brightly coloured, some less so, and many of them safe to eat.

:''Tents have been strung from some of the trees, but on clear nights one might equally be inclined to sleep out under the stars, or around the campfires; how often do you get the excuse to do that, after all!

----

�
"It's wet," K'zin complains.

"And smelly," Telavi contributes.

Alida says, "At least it's warm."

K'zin's sigh turns into a frown as he moves toward the fire.

Telavi huddles under her blanket, tugging it up over her shoulders.

Alida continues to frown softly as she tends the fire.

"Can we go home now?" K'zin asks as he flops down beside Telavi.

Making room, Tela murmurs, "We wouldn't have to get ''far'' off the ground."

Alida says, "There's wood in 'ere. I got some nails. Build a friggin' palatte." Grump.

"For what?" K'zin's head tilts as a hand reaches for Tela's blanket.

"For..." Tela stops, then just huddles some more, heedless of hoarding hands.

"She wants off the ground," Alida replies, jerking her thumb backwards at Tela.

K'zin exchanges a look with Telavi, hand stilling. "I'm-- confused?"

''Tela'' looks confused. Then, "Oh! Off, for ''betweening''." ''Home''.

"More like fuckin' ''daft''." Cue an Alida 'eyeroll'. "A pallate lifts ya off the ground."

K'zin's helpless eyes slide between Telavi and Alida. "Still confused."

"But..." Telavi tries, "Dragons ''between'' off the ground, not pallets."

"Wet." Alida points to Waki. "Ground." A point down. "BUILD. A. PALLATE."

K'zin looks between the two women, and gets up. Shaking his head as he exits. Into the rain.

Telavi glances after him, then up to Alida. "I... don't think he liked that."

"What's there ta like?" It's sour, testy, grumpy witness from the bluie.

Tela's not above taking some of that abandoned space back. "Exactly."

Moving to cave-back for a driftwood log, Alida drags it back near the fire, sits down upon it.

"''That's'' not a pallet," Telavi points out.

"You want one, then build it," the blonde spits out. *She's* just tired of crouching.

"I ''never wanted'' to build one," Telavi points out that too.

Alida points out of the cave, then grumbles, "''He'' complained about bein' wet."

"So he went out into the rain to get wetter." Telavi's, yes, smiling.

Crazy makes people do weird things. "Apparently," Alida needlessly announces.

"While ''I'' just want to go ''home'' and don't see why we ''can't''." Tela.

Glare. "Cause it's an exercise, not just a vacation," Alida growls at Tela.

Telavi, ''dubious''. "I bet Quinlys doesn't want to put up with us either."

"Then the feelin's fuckin' mutual," Alida gripes. They can ''all'' go to hell.

"So all we have to do," Tela reasons, "is get on, get off the ground, go."

Alida: "That huge STORM ragin' out there'll take over a day ta clear off! Are ya ''daft''?!"

Telavi, brightly: "Did you know your eyes ''sparkle'' when you're pissed?"

Alida, too sweetly: "D'ya know my fist aches ta beat ya' when yer like that?"

Telavi, demurely: "Oh, ''Alida''. Aching for a girl like me? How sweet."

A creature of impulse, Alida turns about, grabs Tela by the shirt, and jerks her into her face for a rough, urgent kiss.

Telavi'd been ''sitting'' ''innocently''. Now? Biting at Alida's lower lip.

Shut Tela up; blow off Alida's steam and sudden ardor: the kiss becomes... something else, the bluie jerking her face away quickly, gargling in pain.

'''Clunk.''' Bucket hits ground. Water splashes. K'zin, open-mouthed.

And so ''Tela'' yanks at ''Alida''. "Sit. Or do you like putting on a show?"

In some pain, humiliated, angry as hell, Alida avoids Tela's hands as she jerks to her feet, storming past Waki out into... the storm.

''Shit''. Gape to grimace, K'zin gives Telavi a look: ''seriously''?

Pulling herself together, staring after Alida, Tela spots K'zin. "''What''?"

Dragon> After some moments for getting things clear: << She's comin' ta me, so leave 'er alone. >> from Ilicaeth to Rasavyth...darkly.

Disgruntled, "''Nothing''." Then he does it. K'zin ''rolls his eyes''.

Dragon> Solith, huddled, damp, unhappy, ''still'': << No drowning. >> (To Ilicaeth from Solith)

Dragon> Controlled, yet still fuming, deep concern; he knows this has nothing to do with Solith: << She is with me. >> (To Solith from Ilicaeth)

Which gets a disbelieving look from Tela. "Why are you even..." She gets up.

Dragon> << Good. We want her safe. >> (To Ilicaeth from Solith)

Dragon> Static. He's busy. (To Solith from Ilicaeth)

"She's my friend." As if that explains. What does that make Tela to K'zin?

Tela pales, hit. Tightly, "''Who just macked on me without warning.''"

"Sorry. My fault." However that works. K'zin turns to follow Alida.

Dragon> It comes after about an hour, Ilicaeth still terse, though not angry: << She sends apologies to yours. >> Not 'Telavi.' (To Solith from Ilicaeth)

Not helping. Unable to throw the driftwood, Tela stalks over to sit on it.

He goes. Toward Ilicaeth. Rasavyth follows K'zin; dragonly back-up, in case.

Beneath partial tree canopy: Ilicaeth and Alida, the blue's wing extended over her unseeable form...his eyes lavender.

K'zin and Rasavyth stop nearby. Both sit, wait, and get drenched.

Dragon> Lavender eyes trained upon them; dessicated, dark baritone sand: << Gonna be a looong time. Get 'im under yer wing, stupid. >>

It ''is'' a long time, relatively, before Rasavyth extends a wing. They wait.

Eventually a couple other weyrlings show up from beyond a twist in the cave, settling before the fire. One looks around, because weren't others here before?

By then Tela can smile, dropping into chatter. Never mind red eyes, pink nose.

D'kan makes an appearance from the back of the cave, in... slightly less soaking wet clothing that he may attempt to wear dry as he takes up a station next to the fire, dark eyes peering into the storm.

More chatter, nothing too important, beer in there somewhere. Tela looks over.

There is no more water to be wrung from the clothing. D'kan gives the others a look. "Anything stronger than beer?"

"When we get ''back''." Tela, with a shiver, a glance out to the storm.

The other two slide back to the deeper cave: in search of a stash?

"Fair enough." D'kan is quiet, introspective, or just plain cold. Gaze falls to that blanket. "Care to share?"

A downward glance, then, "Why not." Tela's eyes are still red. She makes room.

The damp is likely not a pleasant addition, but the warmth would be, and D'kan is quite warm. "Any news?"

Wanting the blanket. Warm. Tela, dubious, yet not arguing. "None you want."

Damp fades when warmth overtakes. D'kan, curious, "Such as?"

''Warm''. Telavi's leaning, not leaving. "Messy." Whispered, "Alida ran off."

Perplexed, D'kan looks from Telavi to Outside. "Into ''that''? Why?" Direct.

Tela squishes down into the blanket. "She sort of kissed me?" It was that bad?

Perplexed turns to bewildered. "''She'' did?" D'kan questions, then, "What's 'sort of'?"

"'Sort of.'" Tela peeks at him out of one eye. "Because... it's awkward?"

That gives D'kan pause as he frowns at the gloom. "Aren't all kisses awkward?" Maybe for him.

One eye, two eyes, wide eyes at D'kan. "''No''." Tela states this like a fact.

D'kan's eyes meet Telavi's, his own confused. "No? But... she ran. Where's K'zin?"

"No. Promis..." She ''winces'', extra pale now. "Took out after her."

The wince is just more confusing. D'kan shakes his head, looks out again, huddling.

She huddles too, Later, her voice small, "Because I bit her. To stop."

He doesn't mean to laugh, but can't stop. Maybe it's the cold. "Shells, Tela."

Injured, defensive, "Well, what would ''you'' have done?"

D'kan's chipmunk cheeks get rounder as he grins. "Was it out of the blue or something?"

"Yes." Tela, still muttery. "We were arguing... Don't sound so happy about it."

"Not happy, just impressed," D'kan counters. "Guess she's not into bites?"

"It wasn't ''that kind'' of bite." ''Still'' muttery. "There's a difference."

"Guess I wouldn't know," D'kan informs her, still grinning. "Do you usually bite?"

He gets a narrow look for it. "If I did, it would be better than ''awkward''."

"Good point," he allows, then shoulder nudges, easy under the blanket. "You okay?"

"Yes," she begins, starting to nudge back. "...No. But I have to be, don't I."

He turns back to her, direct again. "You ''don't'' have to be. Not by force."

"By ''surprise''," Tela's quick to say. "I mean, she... but she didn't..."

"You weren't... prepared?" D'kan ventures, fishing for an answer.

"Well, we were ''arguing''," so yes, but, "Surprises are fun too. I think."

D'kan stares at the fire for guidance. Nods. "Sometimes." Skeptic.

"Sometimes." Tela can agree there, leaning her head to his shoulder, too. Sigh.

Silence reigns, aside from the crackle of the fire. Blankets are warm. The end.

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Logs:Rim Shot

2013-06-25T01:11:23Z

D'kan: Tiny fix, per H'kon's request

{{ Log
| who = H'kon, Z'ian
| where = Southern Rim of the Bowl, High Reaches Weyr
| what = H'kon and Z'ian have either one or two conversations, and even look at each other. A little. Dragons plot doom.
| when = Day 24, Month 2, Turn 32
| gamedate = 2013.06.24
| quote = << Not going to jump, is he? >>
| weather = High winds whip through the bowl and whistle up the walls around the spires.
| categories =
| mentions =
| ooc =
| icons = z'ian_tsanth.jpg, z'ian_side.png, h'kon_justhisface.jpg, h'kon_kothheadshot.jpeg
| log = Directly opposite the sharp spikes of the Reaches' characteristic spires lies the bowl's south rim, from above seeming pinched like a baker's pie crust to form this distinctive lip: a soft curve, several dragonlengths long but only four lengths wide before narrowing into impassable crags. It would have to be an apprentice effort, however, given how even the flatter area is riddled with cracks and hollows, dusted with glittery silicate quartz that is far more gritty than sweet.<br>Though the view down into the bowl is commanding, the views beyond it can be absolutely breathtaking on clear days: eternally snow-capped mountains descending to high-altitude meadows and the dark brush of evergreens, and greener valleys beyond even those, with only glimpses here and there of human habitation. But the views come with a risk: the wind can blow hard and strong, and whether looking inward or outward, there is no protection from the precipitous chasms that fall away from these heights.
----

The winds have never been so sympathetic as to cease when a man and his dragon choose the rim of the Weyr on a winter's day; now, even, they may be vengeful, gusting that much harder in an attempt to dislodge the pair. Arekoth is hunkered down, wings held about him, head ducked in, his twisted forelimb raised (though seemingly to no detriment to his balance). H'kon looks not dissimilar, shoulders hunched, body and face wrapped up in winter gear so only his eyes peek out between toque and scarf. What they're watching for isn't clear. Neither turn their heads, nor seem distracted by comings and goings in the bowl. They just... stare.

How about when two dragons and their riders choose the rim of the Weyr on a winter's day? No, not even then? Definitely the cruelest season of the turn. Tsanth lands on the other side of H'kon, allowing Z'ian to drop down off the bronze's side and land with both feet on the narrow strip of space. And while they're just staring, the newcomers settle into the space next to them and get used to chill, fridged winds that sweep through the air. At least the view is nice.

H'kon could probably stare off the edge of the Weyr for ever and ever, no matter how many people should land beside him, provided he's not engaged. He continues to do so, only the faintest shift of his shoulders sign of awareness, even of Z'ian's arrival. Or maybe that was for that last wind gust. But that's H'kon. << Him, I knew. >> No colours or sensations, just a dry, deep tone. << But ''yours'' up and lost it too? >> Arekoth's wings shift up on his back. Brr.

Tsanth is more mild than some of the other more colorful residents of the Weyr. << Hm. >> He starts, thoughful and slow. << He up and lost it awhile ago, I think. >> There's a faint shift as the bronze regards H'kon, idle curiosity in his gaze. Z'ian meanwhile adjusts his jacket to wrap himself up more tightly, trying in vain to keep out the frozen air. "Hello." He greets or states, depends on how you view it as the man settles in.

As the bronze looks at his rider, Arekoth scopes out Z'ian. There's a glimmer of something playful behind an otherwise almost scientifically speculative tone of voice in, << Not going to jump, is he? >> H'kon does not look at Z'ian, nor does he return Tsanth's gaze. He does wriggle his head until his mouth is free to offer, "Z'ian," in returned... greetment.

<< I hope not. >> Tsanth replies placidly but with a faint hint of humor, readjusting his wings until they're comfortable. << Will he? >> The bronzerider adjusts his scarf so that it's still covering the lower half of his face but not preventing speech from happening. "Looks like it's about to begin working itself out." Z'ian notes simply as he folds his arms across his chest.

<< If he does, >> comes with the same scientific detachment, << get him to open his jacket first. >> The gust of wind couldn't have been planned, but the brown is happy for its dramatic effect, and lets it finish before carrying on. << He might be able to fly if he holds it right. >> H'kon just squints against that most recent gust. The slight turn of his head is probably for better conveying his words. His eyes are still locked on that space just in front of his toes. "New winds will take the place of these."

Tsanth's reaction is a loud draconic snort that rumbles deep in his chest. << Or at least coast to the ground. >> Z'ian merely hmms quietly in response H'kon's comment. The silence fills up between them, not unusual. "I'm thinking I could build a bungalow on the Southern Continent. No one would ever realize I was even there and if I was careful, no one would notice that I'd gone missing. You can come visit me. Just don't tell anyone."

H'kon still doesn't look at Z'ian, but this doesn't stop the lines in his face (presumably the ones covered as well as those exposed to the weather) from going hard when he frowns. The bits of quiet unsettled by Z'ian's statement are allowed to at least drift back toward their original positions (by H'kon, if not the wind) before he comes out with, "The winds and cold are a part of this place. They raised our dragons as much as the weyrlingmasters, as much as us."

It's difficult to make out Z'ian's face underneath the wrapping, but then H'kon isn't looking at him anyway. And it could seem to the frustrated outsider as if they're having two much different conversations at the same time. "I wouldn't mind getting a tan, not having to wear a jacket. I'd let Tsanth stick around too." But there's a hint of a sigh tagged on at the end. As if he recognizes the chances of him building a bungalow are not about to happen, as if he would even go.

Arekoth's sigh follows Z'ian's, a much larger cloud, even with the wind there to dissipate it. H'kon does not sigh. He does duck his head down to cover his nose, at least minimally, with his scarf. It's not so neat a wrap as he'd had before. If he stays there long enough, he's like to start frosting his eyebrows with his breath. And he seems settling in to stay.

Well, if H'kon isn't going to leave the rim of the bowl on this bitter freezing day then it seems Z'ian isn't going to either. At least not at this particular point in time. He's about as comfortable as he's ever going to get here and so he doesn't move now, no further adjusments needed. He's not yet began to develop frost on his face, but there's no time like the present.

H'kon, of course, seems almost comfortable, but for the hunch of his shoulders and tuck of his face into that scarf. Frost does start to form on his eyebrows, and, seemingly, eyelashes, for how hard he blinks now and again. Arekoth gets bored far more easily. << Maybe if we pushed them. We could see which one goes farthest. >>

<< You go first. Yours is smaller, he'd need the headstart. >> Tsanth cants his large head, considering the distance below. << I'll push mine shortly after. Promise. >> Z'ian seems oblivious to the conversation going on between bronze and brown. He breathes out puffs of warm air into the cold, turning into little bits of mist-clouds or what-have-you.

<< You might push harder, after you see how far he goes. Then it wouldn't be fair. >> The brown lifts his head, just a bit, even if it means getting caught under the chin by a particularly icy swirl of wind. H'kon reaches up to rub gloved fingers over his face, and then sticks that gloved hand back into his jacket pocket. << Maybe on the count of three. If we screw up, we both have the same chance. >>

<< I wouldn't cheat. >> Not that he sounds terribly upset about the insinuation. << Maybe we should just act as if we're going to push them. I think seeing which one jumps off on their own might be more entertaining. >> Z'ian uncrosses his arms and pulls his knit hat down closer on his head, careful to make sure that his ears are tucked up underneath.

Arekoth chuffs in his throat, and rustles his wings a bit. Some of the creakiness in the feel of them might even be felt by Tsanth. He has, apparently, been up here some time. << I would, >> is so flat it must be laid on a good foundation of assumed pride. H'kon finally moves his head, this time to glance back at his dragon.

<< I bet. >> Tsanth's reply is neutrally worded, even as the waves of amusement are evident from him. He likely does think spooking the pair of them would be endlessly entertaining. "Just plotting our possible deaths." Z'ian comments. He'd wave his hand in dimisal of their plan, if his hands weren't bundled up and jammed in his pockets.

"That happens often enough," H'kon's voice sounds flat, unconcerned. "The cold," is the most explanation shard with the bronzerider - if Z'ian can, that is, pick it out, with H'kon looking away from him and mumbling in the wind. A few moments, and the brownrider is testing his own knees, lifting and bending one foot back, then the next. Krick.

Just another day, really. "It ''is'' cold." Z'ian shoots back over the muffling of his scarf, shifting on the hard rock. Tsanth doesn't seem affected by the temperature yet, neither does his rider. But he does glance over to observe the others as they adjust to their prolonged exposure to the cold.

No matter that he's the first one here, that he's clearly been here longer - too long, even, by the look of his dragon and the slowness in his legs - H'kon turns to Z'ian, and asks ''him'', "Why have you chosen this place?"

"I like it here." That's simple enough. Z'ian is able to answer it quickly without too much thought and with only needing to shoot H'kon the quickest of glimpses out of the corner of his eyes. "You seemed like good company too. Why are you here?"

His disbelief goes unvoiced, although it does flicker over H'kon's face, plain enough to see now that he's actually looking at the bronzerider. He's turned back to look out over the Weyr again, while Arekoth slowly tries to move every last bone and muscle in his wings without dislodging them from their protective space. "Better to see it."

"Is this giving you perspective?" Z'ian for his part doesn't appear to be worried about H'kon's disbelief. He's just looking ahead now and taking in the fridgid view of the Weyr and landscape beyond it.

H'kon once again looks toward Z'ian, possibly a record having just been set for their conversations. There's a twist of his face, a bit of time, and then he's willing to share, "Only for the viewing." Shuffling his feet a bit, H'kon looks back out across the Weyr. Arekoth flexes his feet, one at a time, and lets his tail twist this way, that. "The sort you mean, it seems to me, is seldom a matter of ''physical'' place."

H'kon might even be able to identify him later on, he's seen so much of Z'ian for this one encounter. "Seldom." That's confirmation for the brownrider's assumption in regards to his question. He falls silent again, looking out over the Weyr before taking in a deep breath and getting to his feet. Seems the other man will continue to reign on in his position on the rim.

And indeed, H'kon reigns on.

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Logs talk:Sudden

2013-06-24T01:01:27Z

D'kan: Comment provided by D'kan - via ArticleComments extension

<noinclude>Comments on "[[Logs:Sudden]]"
----- __NOEDITSECTION__</noinclude>

[[D'kan/Comments|D'kan]] ([[User:D'kan|D'kan]] ([[User talk:D'kan|talk]])) left a comment on Mon, 24 Jun 2013 01:01:27 GMT.

<comment date="2013-06-24T01:01:27Z" name="D'kan" signature="[[User:D&#39;kan|D&#39;kan]] ([[User talk:D&#39;kan|talk]])">
I always enjoy seeing glimpses "behind the curtain", so to speak. Fill in some of the blanks, or just shed some light in general. Nice vignette!
</comment>

Logs:Forward Thinking, With Beer

2013-06-21T07:26:04Z

D'kan: Category edit

{{ Log
| who = D'kan, Telavi
| where = Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Weyrlings visit the Snowasis for drinks after wing-shadowing duties with Glacier. Discussions proceed.
| when = Day 12, Month 1, Turn 32
| gamedate = 2013.06.20
| quote = "I don't, I really don't. Probably I should, but I just haven't, which would make for something else to worry about if I let it."
| weather = Steady, today's snowfall sticks, creating dunes on the bowl floor.
| categories = General, Clutch 34, Divided Leadership
| mentions = Aishani, Alida, Azaylia, Sabella, Z'ian
| ooc =
| icons = d'kan uncertain.jpg, telavi lookaway.png
| log = :''Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr

:''The Snowasis is rarely quiet, and even then, the high-ceilinged former weyr is kept from echoing by the fantastical booths tucked into its convoluted perimeter. The secluded seating spaces have been shaped from the truncated stalagmites that escaped the smoothing of the main floor, and are both softened and separated by colorful hangings that are thick and opaque enough to make each corner its own private nook.

:''Some of the smaller stalactites still roam the ceiling, their jagged teeth tracing a bumpy, inverted spine to the hearth. There, a thick rug with a low klah table and comfortable armchairs and couches sit, their upholstery and cushions changed sporadically to match the season: bright, light colors in the summer, fresh greens and yellows in the spring, warm autumnals in fall, and clear, rich hues for winter. Small tables litter the rest of the cavern, enough to fit up to four people each, while stools stand along the smooth wooden bar behind which is the passthrough window to the kitchen. Glass-paneled cabinetry behind the bar provides a clear view of the available liquors, the many colors reflecting the soft light of glows tucked into strategic niches around the cavern.

----

Some days, the natural thing to do after getting out of wing-shadowing is to head to the main cavern for some dinner. After nearly a sevenday of shadowing Glacier... it's time for a drink. Telavi's the one designated to commandeer a booth, which she ''finally'' has by sliding into one instants after its last occupants stood, never mind that the barmaid hasn't had time to clear it yet; now she has the relative luxury of divesting herself of coat and scarf, though she has to fend off another couple of would-be poachers before looking back to see how D'kan's doing with the drinks.

It takes some doing, but after making his way through the other tavern-goers, D'kan edges through near the booth, emerging with two empty glasses in one hand, and a pitcher of something that he's carefully balancing in the other, careful of any jostling elbows and the like. He reaches the commandeered booth safely, eases the pitcher onto the table, then sets down the glasses before finally easing out of his own winter and rider gear. By the sheen on his face, he's right on the verge of overheating. Though, "I'd rather be melting than freezing, but it's still pretty uncomfortable either way," he states before taking a seat. He moves some of the leftover items from the previous group so their stacked on the end of the table, adding, "Care to do the honors?" nodding his chin toward the pitcher.

No sooner said than poured, or at least, that's what Telavi sets herself to. "I'll take melting too," she agrees. "At least we know the winter gear's working, right? Here," and she slides the first glass his way, even if he's not done, before working on her own. Though she's slipped out of her coat, she's still very much in weyrling mode instead of that of her usual visits to the Snowasis, infrequent though they are, starting with how her cap's been replaced atop her still-braided hair. "So, are you ever tempted to foist your wingsecond knot off on anyone else? Or maybe I should ask, how many times a day?"

D'kan finishes shrugging out of his coat and leaves it bunched behind him, then tucks his gloves into his hat and sets them to the side on the bench. He thanks Telavi quietly for the glass of beer, looks over the rest of the Snowasis for a few seconds, waiting until she's all set with her own glass. "Actually... well. Sometimes I want to throw the thing away, but foist it?" He turns back to the other weyrling and grins, shrugging. "Not so much. I rather like working with Sabella, and I'm getting to know all sorts of new stuff about Alida. So it's been good overall." He cuts into his answer there to hold his glass toward Telavi. "Here's to the shadows of Glacier," the brownrider quips, smiling crookedly.

"'Leave it lying in the snow for someone to trip over,' then. No?" But by the sound of it, Telavi's teasing, and she duly clinks her glass with D'kan's. "The shadows, and none of us or them falling down the mountainside... except where that would make things an Avalanche, I suppose. Not to mention, search and rescue practice." A quick smile's followed by a quick drink. "I wonder, if we asked all the other wingseconds here the same thing, if they'd say the same as you... about wanting to throw it over, at least sometimes. Since they don't have a Sabella and an Alida, ''particularly''."

After a first drink of much-needed and -deserved beer, D'kan leans back and gives the tavern another quick study while reaching up to scratch the bridge of his nose for a second. Yay, snow-burn. "Good question," he answers a moment later, then turns back to Telavi, grinning again. "Hard to say, though. I mean... wingsecond for us weyrlings? Bit different than, well. Glacier. Boreal." Ahem. "I wonder if it helps when there are two wingseconds instead of just one. Anything about that your special program taught you?" That being the silver thread program, though D'kan stopped referring to it directly some time ago. Should she have noticed.

"Just a ''bit''." Telavi's dimples show briefly, and she tips her glass, watching the liquid collect bits of foam and tug them away again. "It's said that they help when the three are compatible, when they don't get ''competitive'', when they can share the same long-term outlook. It's buffering one another, you know?" She glances back across the table at him. "The hard part is, by now, not really being sure what's from 'the program' and what's more or less common sense. If that makes sense."

"Totally makes sense," D'kan answers quietly before taking another quaff of beer. Yeah, definitely a pitcher night. "Makes sense, working with Sabella and Alida, too. It'll get weird, though, when... y'know. They start splitting us up into the ''real'' wings." He sets his beer on the table, hands surrounding it on either side, though not quite touching the glass. "Have you eye on any of the wings yet?"

"Yes," and it comes out half as a sigh. "I have wondered that." What will happen. Telavi considers him, her eyes more blue than green today, and thoughtful before she leans her elbow on the table, leans her cheek on her hand and looks to the curve of her glass once more. Her fingertip traces it, back and forth. "I'm mostly looking at Lower Flight, of course, but I'm trying to keep my eyes open. Snowdrift's had pluses, Z'ian's said some things that make me think twice in a good way about Boreal... but I don't know that I want a wing that's in the thick of things, and it seems like he ''is''. What about you? Do you know what you want?"

"That... pretty much sums up my thoughts about Boreal, too," D'kan answers before laughing softly. "Kazavoth's all for it. Thinks it would be... ''exciting''," he adds, voice changing for a moment to impersonate his lifemate, "buuut..." He trails off, then shakes his head slightly. "Snowdrift has been on my mind for ages now, mostly because that's where my mentor flies, so... I guess I've spent more time with that wing than any of the others, just by association. Beyond that, I'm not sure yet. There's still time, right? Polaris is up next, so... yeah. I guess we'll see. Any idea where the others are aiming?"

Tela's turn to laugh after another glance back, but it's for the ''imitation''. "I can just see him," she says. Well, ''hear''," but he knows, doesn't he? and she's listening again, playing with her mug again. A slow drink later, "I ''hope'' there's time. I hope there won't wind up being a lot of people piling after one wing and then it gets competitive," and the greenrider shudders. She does mention a couple names, a couple wings, but, "I think it's so up in the air, with the tithe and the queens and everything. A rider would about have to have her eyes closed, wouldn't she, to think otherwise?"

"Yeah, that's been on my mind, too," D'kan replies quietly, picking up his glass for a drink, though it doesn't quite make it to his lips yet. "Like... any other time, I think Kaz and I could do just fine in Glacier. But then I think about the muck we'd be voluntarily stepping into, and..." He trails off again, shrugs a shoulder, then drinks from his glass. "Stuff's just so messed up right now. I mean--" He breaks off and glances around them, looking slightly pensive. A moment later, though, he leans forward, elbows on the edge of the table. "I'm really glad Z'ian and Azaylia stepped in and stuff, but... shells." That, apparently, demands more beer as he drinks down another good mouthful or so.

"Right." Her nod that succeeds it could as well be a repetition of the word, and then Tela's leaning into the table too to listen, and surely they don't look conspiratorial at ''all''. Especially not with her voice lowered, too, and if he's looking pensive, she's more than a little worried. "You think she really was in on it? That's... really pitting them against each other, isn't it? Or more pitted, or whatever. Unless it was Az...z's idea and she got Z'i... to make it happen?"

"Well, she had to be in on it, right?" D'kan says back, voice dropping as his words pick up in pace. "I mean, she was right there ''waiting'' for him. Got the stuff moved pretty quickly, too. Can't do that without coordination," he says before leaning back slightly. Before he can go for more beer, though, he adds, "But how much foreknowledge? Tempted to ask her, actually." Then there is beer, after which, he just stares at his glass for a few more seconds. "It kind of seems like it's one against the other, though. What else ''could'' it be? Miscommunication of the most bizarre kind?"

"She ''was''?" Telavi breathes, and she wasn't there but she looks ready to ''believe''. "I did hear that they were wearing Glacier badges, and they would have to have gotten them from somewhere, and she did ride for Glacier, didn't she? But does that mean that they were old badges or new badges or she got Glacier riders to give up their jackets, and if so, why would they and who?" If D'kan gets more beer, ''she'' gets more beer, and drinks some of it, too. "I don't know," she admits afterward. "Unless maybe Ai...ani had a change of heart and didn't want to say so and had her do it, but that's not ''her'', is it? She'd own it. If you ask her, either one of them really, I hope you'll tell me."

D'kan motions toward Telavi as if she just proved a point of his, while she's talking about the Glacier badges. "See? That took planning, and some pretty quick planning at that." He sips from his glass, musing while watching a group of riders head back into the snowy bowl. "All I ''really'' know is that it's all pretty sharding weird. But... yeah. I'll let you know," he assures Telavi, grinning slightly before he slumps back in the booth. "I swear, stuff like this makes me consider watchriding somewhere." The grin might indicate he's teasing, but he leaves it there while he starts turning his beer glass in a circle on the table. "Any specific plans in mind after they give us all new knots? Joining up with the weyrlingmaster group, maybe? The dragonhealers? Something else?"

"I suppose it's good if people can plan quickly," only Telavi sounds a trifle dubious in this particular case, even though less rationing's a good thing... right? She follows his glance towards the departing riders but then looks away more quickly, her arms crossing atop the table's edge. "Thanks." Letting her know. "Watchriding..." now she's looking back at the brownrider, and maybe she's taking it seriously, maybe she's playing along but either way she answers like it's not just a joke. "Somewhere busy enough that Kaz doesn't get too bored, right? And," the lift of her shoulders is a trifle awkward, not something that normally ''shows''. "I don't, I really don't. Probably I should, but I just haven't, which would make for something else to worry about if I let it. How about you, watchriding aside? Your family?"

The last part of Telavi's question has D'kan's mouth tightening slightly, though only for a brief moment. "Even at one of the big Holds, I think Kaz would get bored in a hurry. And... well. I probably don't need to explain how that wouldn't be a good thing for him," he adds with another small, crooked grin. Trashing the barracks comes to mind. "Honestly, I don't think I'd enjoy it, either. I rather like the Weyr life, you know?" He takes another sip of beer, then taps some designs into the condensation on the side of his glass. "I do think, though... I think it's okay to not know what you want to do. Even with the shadowing and stuff, we've still only seen a fraction of what we ''might'' do. Haven't really gotten to see what we ''can'' do." His tone implies there's a difference between the two. "Not like we can't change our minds a little further down that line, right?"

It's brief, and more, he doesn't answer. More than that, he answers the ''rest'', and so Telavi lets it go. "No," she agrees, though the bright humor in her eyes suggests that she can, yes, ''imagine''. Imagine even more than what had happened to the poor barracks, quite probably. "What about Weyr life, D'kan? Tell me it's not the beer or the windburn," but just in case, she drinks. There's color in her cheeks that isn't just the wind, but she's not so buzzed as all that, for all that now she's looking at ''her'' glass as though its patterns were tea leaves to read. "I'd like to think you're right, too. It just seems as though some people... well, that we'd be ''behind''. If," but she glances back at D'kan, consideringly, before she continues. If she continues.

D'kan grimaces slightly, but nods as if he's following the train of thought. "'Behind' kind of implies it's a race, though," he says, looking across the table at her before he reaches for the pitcher to top off their glasses with what's left of the beer. "I mean, if there's a niche out there for us, then we'll find it. Or it will find us. Just doesn't seem worth worrying about. Not exactly." He stops to take a slow sip of beer. "Plus... maybe stuff will shake down later on." After the chaos finds order, maybe? "As for the Weyr... it's hard to explain." He grins then, rolling one shoulder slightly in a half-hearted shrug. "I like that people can just ''be''. It's not so... judgmental, I guess. Or it doesn't feel that way, politics aside." There's a brief frown after that, but it's gone after he's taken another drink. "Looks like some of the late sweeps are coming in. We should probably free up the booth or something." The deference that comes with weyrling rank?

Her replying nod holds altogether too much agreement, though what Telavi says instead now that D'kan's gone on is, "I don't know if the world works that way, but it would be ''nice''." Beyond that, there's more slow-nodded agreement punctuated by not as slow sips. "I hope it stays that way..." A laugh. "''Yes'', wingsecond." Tela doesn't have to look, but she can smile. "I'll make sure I don't take long to finish." Which means she won't hop up immediately, but then she'll be all for getting out of the way with their belongings, out of people's hair, out of range of perhaps-raised voices to come.

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Logs:Forward Thinking, With Beer

2013-06-21T07:25:08Z

D'kan: Created page with "{{ Log | who = D'kan, Telavi | where = Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr | what = Weyrlings visit the Snowasis for drinks after wing-shadowing duties with Glacier. Discussions proc..."

{{ Log
| who = D'kan, Telavi
| where = Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Weyrlings visit the Snowasis for drinks after wing-shadowing duties with Glacier. Discussions proceed.
| when = Day 12, Month 1, Turn 32
| gamedate = 2013.06.20
| quote = "I don't, I really don't. Probably I should, but I just haven't, which would make for something else to worry about if I let it."
| weather = Steady, today's snowfall sticks, creating dunes on the bowl floor.
| categories = General, Clutch 34
| mentions = Aishani, Alida, Azaylia, Sabella, Z'ian
| ooc =
| icons = d'kan uncertain.jpg, telavi lookaway.png
| log = :''Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr

:''The Snowasis is rarely quiet, and even then, the high-ceilinged former weyr is kept from echoing by the fantastical booths tucked into its convoluted perimeter. The secluded seating spaces have been shaped from the truncated stalagmites that escaped the smoothing of the main floor, and are both softened and separated by colorful hangings that are thick and opaque enough to make each corner its own private nook.

:''Some of the smaller stalactites still roam the ceiling, their jagged teeth tracing a bumpy, inverted spine to the hearth. There, a thick rug with a low klah table and comfortable armchairs and couches sit, their upholstery and cushions changed sporadically to match the season: bright, light colors in the summer, fresh greens and yellows in the spring, warm autumnals in fall, and clear, rich hues for winter. Small tables litter the rest of the cavern, enough to fit up to four people each, while stools stand along the smooth wooden bar behind which is the passthrough window to the kitchen. Glass-paneled cabinetry behind the bar provides a clear view of the available liquors, the many colors reflecting the soft light of glows tucked into strategic niches around the cavern.

----

Some days, the natural thing to do after getting out of wing-shadowing is to head to the main cavern for some dinner. After nearly a sevenday of shadowing Glacier... it's time for a drink. Telavi's the one designated to commandeer a booth, which she ''finally'' has by sliding into one instants after its last occupants stood, never mind that the barmaid hasn't had time to clear it yet; now she has the relative luxury of divesting herself of coat and scarf, though she has to fend off another couple of would-be poachers before looking back to see how D'kan's doing with the drinks.

It takes some doing, but after making his way through the other tavern-goers, D'kan edges through near the booth, emerging with two empty glasses in one hand, and a pitcher of something that he's carefully balancing in the other, careful of any jostling elbows and the like. He reaches the commandeered booth safely, eases the pitcher onto the table, then sets down the glasses before finally easing out of his own winter and rider gear. By the sheen on his face, he's right on the verge of overheating. Though, "I'd rather be melting than freezing, but it's still pretty uncomfortable either way," he states before taking a seat. He moves some of the leftover items from the previous group so their stacked on the end of the table, adding, "Care to do the honors?" nodding his chin toward the pitcher.

No sooner said than poured, or at least, that's what Telavi sets herself to. "I'll take melting too," she agrees. "At least we know the winter gear's working, right? Here," and she slides the first glass his way, even if he's not done, before working on her own. Though she's slipped out of her coat, she's still very much in weyrling mode instead of that of her usual visits to the Snowasis, infrequent though they are, starting with how her cap's been replaced atop her still-braided hair. "So, are you ever tempted to foist your wingsecond knot off on anyone else? Or maybe I should ask, how many times a day?"

D'kan finishes shrugging out of his coat and leaves it bunched behind him, then tucks his gloves into his hat and sets them to the side on the bench. He thanks Telavi quietly for the glass of beer, looks over the rest of the Snowasis for a few seconds, waiting until she's all set with her own glass. "Actually... well. Sometimes I want to throw the thing away, but foist it?" He turns back to the other weyrling and grins, shrugging. "Not so much. I rather like working with Sabella, and I'm getting to know all sorts of new stuff about Alida. So it's been good overall." He cuts into his answer there to hold his glass toward Telavi. "Here's to the shadows of Glacier," the brownrider quips, smiling crookedly.

"'Leave it lying in the snow for someone to trip over,' then. No?" But by the sound of it, Telavi's teasing, and she duly clinks her glass with D'kan's. "The shadows, and none of us or them falling down the mountainside... except where that would make things an Avalanche, I suppose. Not to mention, search and rescue practice." A quick smile's followed by a quick drink. "I wonder, if we asked all the other wingseconds here the same thing, if they'd say the same as you... about wanting to throw it over, at least sometimes. Since they don't have a Sabella and an Alida, ''particularly''."

After a first drink of much-needed and -deserved beer, D'kan leans back and gives the tavern another quick study while reaching up to scratch the bridge of his nose for a second. Yay, snow-burn. "Good question," he answers a moment later, then turns back to Telavi, grinning again. "Hard to say, though. I mean... wingsecond for us weyrlings? Bit different than, well. Glacier. Boreal." Ahem. "I wonder if it helps when there are two wingseconds instead of just one. Anything about that your special program taught you?" That being the silver thread program, though D'kan stopped referring to it directly some time ago. Should she have noticed.

"Just a ''bit''." Telavi's dimples show briefly, and she tips her glass, watching the liquid collect bits of foam and tug them away again. "It's said that they help when the three are compatible, when they don't get ''competitive'', when they can share the same long-term outlook. It's buffering one another, you know?" She glances back across the table at him. "The hard part is, by now, not really being sure what's from 'the program' and what's more or less common sense. If that makes sense."

"Totally makes sense," D'kan answers quietly before taking another quaff of beer. Yeah, definitely a pitcher night. "Makes sense, working with Sabella and Alida, too. It'll get weird, though, when... y'know. They start splitting us up into the ''real'' wings." He sets his beer on the table, hands surrounding it on either side, though not quite touching the glass. "Have you eye on any of the wings yet?"

"Yes," and it comes out half as a sigh. "I have wondered that." What will happen. Telavi considers him, her eyes more blue than green today, and thoughtful before she leans her elbow on the table, leans her cheek on her hand and looks to the curve of her glass once more. Her fingertip traces it, back and forth. "I'm mostly looking at Lower Flight, of course, but I'm trying to keep my eyes open. Snowdrift's had pluses, Z'ian's said some things that make me think twice in a good way about Boreal... but I don't know that I want a wing that's in the thick of things, and it seems like he ''is''. What about you? Do you know what you want?"

"That... pretty much sums up my thoughts about Boreal, too," D'kan answers before laughing softly. "Kazavoth's all for it. Thinks it would be... ''exciting''," he adds, voice changing for a moment to impersonate his lifemate, "buuut..." He trails off, then shakes his head slightly. "Snowdrift has been on my mind for ages now, mostly because that's where my mentor flies, so... I guess I've spent more time with that wing than any of the others, just by association. Beyond that, I'm not sure yet. There's still time, right? Polaris is up next, so... yeah. I guess we'll see. Any idea where the others are aiming?"

Tela's turn to laugh after another glance back, but it's for the ''imitation''. "I can just see him," she says. Well, ''hear''," but he knows, doesn't he? and she's listening again, playing with her mug again. A slow drink later, "I ''hope'' there's time. I hope there won't wind up being a lot of people piling after one wing and then it gets competitive," and the greenrider shudders. She does mention a couple names, a couple wings, but, "I think it's so up in the air, with the tithe and the queens and everything. A rider would about have to have her eyes closed, wouldn't she, to think otherwise?"

"Yeah, that's been on my mind, too," D'kan replies quietly, picking up his glass for a drink, though it doesn't quite make it to his lips yet. "Like... any other time, I think Kaz and I could do just fine in Glacier. But then I think about the muck we'd be voluntarily stepping into, and..." He trails off again, shrugs a shoulder, then drinks from his glass. "Stuff's just so messed up right now. I mean--" He breaks off and glances around them, looking slightly pensive. A moment later, though, he leans forward, elbows on the edge of the table. "I'm really glad Z'ian and Azaylia stepped in and stuff, but... shells." That, apparently, demands more beer as he drinks down another good mouthful or so.

"Right." Her nod that succeeds it could as well be a repetition of the word, and then Tela's leaning into the table too to listen, and surely they don't look conspiratorial at ''all''. Especially not with her voice lowered, too, and if he's looking pensive, she's more than a little worried. "You think she really was in on it? That's... really pitting them against each other, isn't it? Or more pitted, or whatever. Unless it was Az...z's idea and she got Z'i... to make it happen?"

"Well, she had to be in on it, right?" D'kan says back, voice dropping as his words pick up in pace. "I mean, she was right there ''waiting'' for him. Got the stuff moved pretty quickly, too. Can't do that without coordination," he says before leaning back slightly. Before he can go for more beer, though, he adds, "But how much foreknowledge? Tempted to ask her, actually." Then there is beer, after which, he just stares at his glass for a few more seconds. "It kind of seems like it's one against the other, though. What else ''could'' it be? Miscommunication of the most bizarre kind?"

"She ''was''?" Telavi breathes, and she wasn't there but she looks ready to ''believe''. "I did hear that they were wearing Glacier badges, and they would have to have gotten them from somewhere, and she did ride for Glacier, didn't she? But does that mean that they were old badges or new badges or she got Glacier riders to give up their jackets, and if so, why would they and who?" If D'kan gets more beer, ''she'' gets more beer, and drinks some of it, too. "I don't know," she admits afterward. "Unless maybe Ai...ani had a change of heart and didn't want to say so and had her do it, but that's not ''her'', is it? She'd own it. If you ask her, either one of them really, I hope you'll tell me."

D'kan motions toward Telavi as if she just proved a point of his, while she's talking about the Glacier badges. "See? That took planning, and some pretty quick planning at that." He sips from his glass, musing while watching a group of riders head back into the snowy bowl. "All I ''really'' know is that it's all pretty sharding weird. But... yeah. I'll let you know," he assures Telavi, grinning slightly before he slumps back in the booth. "I swear, stuff like this makes me consider watchriding somewhere." The grin might indicate he's teasing, but he leaves it there while he starts turning his beer glass in a circle on the table. "Any specific plans in mind after they give us all new knots? Joining up with the weyrlingmaster group, maybe? The dragonhealers? Something else?"

"I suppose it's good if people can plan quickly," only Telavi sounds a trifle dubious in this particular case, even though less rationing's a good thing... right? She follows his glance towards the departing riders but then looks away more quickly, her arms crossing atop the table's edge. "Thanks." Letting her know. "Watchriding..." now she's looking back at the brownrider, and maybe she's taking it seriously, maybe she's playing along but either way she answers like it's not just a joke. "Somewhere busy enough that Kaz doesn't get too bored, right? And," the lift of her shoulders is a trifle awkward, not something that normally ''shows''. "I don't, I really don't. Probably I should, but I just haven't, which would make for something else to worry about if I let it. How about you, watchriding aside? Your family?"

The last part of Telavi's question has D'kan's mouth tightening slightly, though only for a brief moment. "Even at one of the big Holds, I think Kaz would get bored in a hurry. And... well. I probably don't need to explain how that wouldn't be a good thing for him," he adds with another small, crooked grin. Trashing the barracks comes to mind. "Honestly, I don't think I'd enjoy it, either. I rather like the Weyr life, you know?" He takes another sip of beer, then taps some designs into the condensation on the side of his glass. "I do think, though... I think it's okay to not know what you want to do. Even with the shadowing and stuff, we've still only seen a fraction of what we ''might'' do. Haven't really gotten to see what we ''can'' do." His tone implies there's a difference between the two. "Not like we can't change our minds a little further down that line, right?"

It's brief, and more, he doesn't answer. More than that, he answers the ''rest'', and so Telavi lets it go. "No," she agrees, though the bright humor in her eyes suggests that she can, yes, ''imagine''. Imagine even more than what had happened to the poor barracks, quite probably. "What about Weyr life, D'kan? Tell me it's not the beer or the windburn," but just in case, she drinks. There's color in her cheeks that isn't just the wind, but she's not so buzzed as all that, for all that now she's looking at ''her'' glass as though its patterns were tea leaves to read. "I'd like to think you're right, too. It just seems as though some people... well, that we'd be ''behind''. If," but she glances back at D'kan, consideringly, before she continues. If she continues.

D'kan grimaces slightly, but nods as if he's following the train of thought. "'Behind' kind of implies it's a race, though," he says, looking across the table at her before he reaches for the pitcher to top off their glasses with what's left of the beer. "I mean, if there's a niche out there for us, then we'll find it. Or it will find us. Just doesn't seem worth worrying about. Not exactly." He stops to take a slow sip of beer. "Plus... maybe stuff will shake down later on." After the chaos finds order, maybe? "As for the Weyr... it's hard to explain." He grins then, rolling one shoulder slightly in a half-hearted shrug. "I like that people can just ''be''. It's not so... judgmental, I guess. Or it doesn't feel that way, politics aside." There's a brief frown after that, but it's gone after he's taken another drink. "Looks like some of the late sweeps are coming in. We should probably free up the booth or something." The deference that comes with weyrling rank?

Her replying nod holds altogether too much agreement, though what Telavi says instead now that D'kan's gone on is, "I don't know if the world works that way, but it would be ''nice''." Beyond that, there's more slow-nodded agreement punctuated by not as slow sips. "I hope it stays that way..." A laugh. "''Yes'', wingsecond." Tela doesn't have to look, but she can smile. "I'll make sure I don't take long to finish." Which means she won't hop up immediately, but then she'll be all for getting out of the way with their belongings, out of people's hair, out of range of perhaps-raised voices to come.

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