NorCon MUSH - User contributions [en]

Logs:Not Bonding

2015-11-03T00:35:43Z

Dal: Created page with "{{Log |who=Ka'ge, N'dalis |what=A discussion of wings and belonging. |where=Bowl Falls, Fort Weyr |involves=Fort Weyr |day=3 |month=3 |turn=39 |IP=Interval |IP2=10 |gamedate=2..."

{{Log
|who=Ka'ge, N'dalis
|what=A discussion of wings and belonging.
|where=Bowl Falls, Fort Weyr
|involves=Fort Weyr
|day=3
|month=3
|turn=39
|IP=Interval
|IP2=10
|gamedate=2015.11.02
|quote="That-- duty does not necessarily require that greater level."
|mentions=N'rov, X'vin
|type=Log
|icons-new=Icon Ka'ge.jpg, Icon Ka'ge Zymadiath.jpg, Icon n'dalis.png, Icon n'dalis suraieth.jpeg,
|log=Later afternoon finds the early spring afternoon fairly decent in temperature, shaded from above by a recent denser cloudbank. A young bronze bathes just at the foot of the falls, skirting the edges of the tumbling waters provided by waterfall channeled into the lake from the bowl wall. Heavy, large and darkly shaded wings stretch in turn, flinging water here and there inbetween dunking his even darker-hewn face beneath the surface. One such moment sees the bronze lift his head, shaking off the water canine-like with the rest of himself submerged below his spine-ridged neck, his back-lit appearing eerie eyes angled upwards at the stairs giving away the location of the rider who fails to swim with him. Ka'ge sits on the stairs closer to the bowl landing than anything higher, legs off the edge, elbows on knees and hood drawn to shade his expression. A slow, lazy shake of his head declines some sort of offer from the dragon below.

Cool, clear waters are found in Suraieth's thoughts, too, as the green circles down from above with a flurry of wing beats; she shares without hesitation, that clarity if thought emphasised in some ritual logic of her own, wings furling as she descends into the lake itself. Her rider? He comes by foot and rather more slowly, those long legs put to less elongated movements, and instead carrying him in a meandering way around the lake, and towards the steps. Not a man who's ever stood out much, N'dalis; just another rider.

The bronze is sooner to extend a greeting than his rider, though both seem to shift their focus around the same time. Darkness on darkness, the sensation of shadows moving, shifting in the distance reaches to Suraieth, not unwelcoming but observant, watchful from the mind's horizon. They carry with them no formed words, but the dragon himself redirects his quiet attention to her. The young man on the steps, having turned his head in the semblance of watching N'dalis' arrival shifts to sit a little straighter. His fingers pick once, twice more at the slightly frayed edges of his gloves in the meantime of the man's meandering and when he's closer to the steps, "G'day." Sounds tired, or more likely just lazily slurred, once he's within easy speaking distance.

There are no shadows in Suraieth's thoughts, only reflections of light off gently dappled waves; radiant and rich. She doesn't need words, either, and she's equally watchful, although hers holds within it assurance and contentment. "Afternoon," returns the rider, his words rather more quietly precise. "You're one of the new graduates." Not a question, but a friendly enough statement, even if the rider makes no attempt to smile. And, because it's polite: "That's Suraieth. I'm Dal."

The scuffing of fabric and boots on stone comes with the young bronzerider sliding back on the step and rising. Gloved hands dust off the sides of his pants as he looks away briefly, watching the dragons below. There's a slight grin on that expression of his, lightened with it and not as broody as the dark-clothed hooded young man on the stairs likely appeared from a distance. The tilt of his head and shrug of one shoulder is kind of an amused dismissive one, but comes with an agreement to the greenrider's assessment, "Fortunately," Unfortunately? "Aye. We fly with Flint now. Ka'ge," He offers in return, and with a nod downards to the lake, "And Zymadiath." He shoves his hands in his pockets, "A little bit different of a routine." His dry sarcasm is more evident in this tacked on detail.

"I remember," is Dal's easy reply, still made without a smile though he's equally not actually ''frowning''; this seems to be his default expression. "We flew for Malachite, at first, but then for Jasper. It was a better fit." Whatever the reasons for this, the greenrider doesn't specify, and instead folds his hands to his sides, fingers loosely bunched together. "In a few months, it will probably feel like weyrlinghood was a lifetime ago. And spring," is that, now, a hint of a smile? "is here."

"Did you think the shadowing in weyrlinghood helped?" Ka'ge asks first with enough lack of laziness that it seems earnest by some degrees, "Or trial and error?" He lingers on the edge of that step for the length of the question, and then makes the slow effort of stepping down to come a little closer to the bowl landing. "It already feels like forever ago, and it's been-" He falters, curiously amused as he attempts a mental count, "I suppose not even a month." A chuckle accompanies that, soft half-hearted and under his breath.

A month. The corners of Dal's mouth twist, ever so slightly. But that question, those questions? He acknowledges ''them'' with a deeper inclination of his head. "I don't think anything is a proper substitute for actual, in-the-wing experience," he says, after a moment's consideration. "It helped, I think, to get a ''feel'' for what the wings do, but... you're only ever an outsider, when you shadow. But, then, some wings are closer and more bonded than others. Sometimes, to their detriment."

"I guess." Is Ka'ge's agreement that's more agreeing than the words themselves provide. "It didn't really seem like any ''fit''." He uses Dal's word, though it's not the first he'd hear it. "Flint," There's another shrug with that, "Doesn't seem to mind me." The grin broadens briefly, a hand rising to stifle a cough that clears his throat, "How long were you in Malachite? Heard Jasper is not so easy on-" He trails off but gestures vaguely with his now-freed hand, seeming to indicate himself- new graduates in general.

There's something in Dal's expression that suggests he understands all too well what Ka'ge means by lack of fit; he does not, however, comment on ''that'' in words. "Eight months," is his answer to the other. "Jasper... it took some time. To find any kind of fit. But we don't really... socialize, outside of wing duties." Or perhaps it's simply that ''N'dalis'' doesn't socialize; it may well be different for others within the wing. "I don't know all that much about Flint. I imagine it has changed, since I was a weyrling. New wingleader."

"It's changed quite a bit." Ka'ge says after considering Dal's explaination for an almost too-long pause. "Although I can't really say I was in it before." Amused, odd edge to that, a brow raised slightly at a thought of his own, "They don't drill nearly like Jasper does, as far as I've seen. And socializing?" Maybe ''they'' do, but he states the rhetorical question in light of an understanding of N'dalis' comment, not including himself with it. "There's time for it." He gives at that as his conclusion, the non-tradionalist 'extra time' that the wing maintains. "Haven't gotten to know 'em yet." The others in the wing, he means, but he also doesn't sound to be in much of a rush to do so.

N'dalis' lips press together tightly for a moment, and his hands, too, tighten at his sides. Finally, carefully, "N'rov has never understood that, for me, it simply has never been important to ''bond'' with my wing. That-- duty does not necessarily require that greater level." Perhaps he's attempting, in a round-about kind of way, that it doesn't matter. That it doesn't ''need'' to matter. "I find one can be friendly with others without them needing to fly for the same wing." A pause. "Or even fly at all, as such things go."

Ka'ge is quiet, his grin lingering just faint enough to still be there. He continues to move down the steps, slow, meandering with an arrogance to his stride. A hand adjusts his hood, tugging the peak downwards. "Fair enough." He offers as far as vague reply. "It's a lot of extra work, anyway." Bonding, that is. "It doesn't really matter." To him, he implies in voicing maybe what Dal had intended, "Plenty of time to see whatever happens." His tone sounds bored at the surface but has that odd edge as if some sort of joke but never quites gets there. Zymadiath has managed to wade to shore, the shadows of his heavy, broad wings mostly spread above him, drip-drying of the water in his statue-like poise. The night at the edge of the green's mind continues to writhe in its presence, creating and re-creating its figments and then slowly withdrawing like some ghostly shadow at the end of an abandoned tunnel. "Thanks." Angled in his path to eventually meet the bronze at the lake's edge, he adds that simple word over his shoulder a little delayed. "I'll keep all that in mind."

Suraieth freezes the night with a wave of her own thought; beneath it, perhaps the darkness might roam free, but then again... perhaps not. Dal's nod is about all the answer he offers; "Sure," he says, passing by on his own way up those stairs.
}}

Logs:Lunch by the Lake

2015-07-19T06:20:24Z

Dal: Created page with "{{Log |who=N'dalis, N'rov |what=N'rov brings lunch... and questions. |where=Ice Lake, Ruatha Area |involves=Fort Weyr |day=18 |month=4 |turn=38 |IP=Interval |IP2=10 |gamedate=..."

{{Log
|who=N'dalis, N'rov
|what=N'rov brings lunch... and questions.
|where=Ice Lake, Ruatha Area
|involves=Fort Weyr
|day=18
|month=4
|turn=38
|IP=Interval
|IP2=10
|gamedate=2015.07.18
|quote="'Just a wing'?"
|mentions=Ali, E'dre, Ebeny, Hattie, Lilah, N'muir
|type=Log
|icons-new=Icon n'dalis crooked smile.png, Icon n'rov.png,
|log=Dragon> Some of her wingmates fly with ''him'' now, even if it's also under Wroth; it's with a sense of them, like fingerprints on nearly-sheer metal, imprinted rather than oily, that Vhaeryth reaches out to contact her. With a ''star'', never mind that it's afternoon. << Suraieth. >> A secret. << Over here. >> (To Suraieth from Vhaeryth)

Dragon> Things change; day by day, month by month. Moon cycle by moon cycle, too, though there are no moons in Suraieth's thoughts, not today. Instead, the waters of her mind are placid, lit by that newly-risen star, and the effect is pleasing. << Here? >> 'Here' is above the fields and valleys, and there, an icy lake: Ruatha. << Here. >> (To Vhaeryth from Suraieth)

Dragon> << Here. >> (To Suraieth from Vhaeryth)

Again: << Here. >> The star sweeps in with him, even as flecks of ''between''-frozen rain fly from his copper-chased wings, outspread to translucency and all the more dramatic for it. Vhaeryth's even convinced N'rov to wave, a hyperbolic harper's gesture.

<< Here, >> then. Here. Suraieth circles downwards, hide bright against the bright sky behind it, though not so bright as to encourage warnings (that was ''last'' month, as the moons rose high). The turns haven't made Dal any more effusive; his acknowledgement of the bronzerider - the wingsecond! - is in his nod, perhaps barely even visible until there they are, his green gracefully settling upon the shores of the icy cold lake. Now, his eyebrows are raised.

<< There? >> Only when his rider's dismounted, though, and striding over with a sack slung over his shoulder; N'rov's got an eye for staying out of Suraieth's wing range, should she let Vhaeryth encourage her back to the heights. The bronzerider (wingsecond!) wears a grin beneath his goggles. "Hungry?"

Suraieth's been on sweeps for hours, but turn down a chance to fly? No. ''No''. Off she goes-- and down on the ground, her rider tucks his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "Often enough," is ''his'' reply, head tipped slightly to regard the bronzerider in his full wingsecond-ly glory. "Is that part of your new duty set, then? I didn't know ''I'' had been transferred to Hematite."

"Would you like to be?" N'rov rejoins, lifting up his goggles and blinking rapidly a few times against the sunshine and the wind of their dragons' departure; he heads, unhurriedly, towards the other man and thence along the shore.

"No." Perhaps Dal rethinks the bluntness of that because he clarifies, gaze focused on his dragon in the skies above rather than on the other rider, "I've never seen myself as Hematite material. I don't like..." The pranks? The boys' club? He doesn't specify.

N'rov, keeping pace, delves into his bag; he offers up a cloth-wrapped sandwich-sized package before asking, "Which?" As though he, too, sees alternatives.

"Did you bring a blanket, too? A bottle of wine?" There's a teasing lilt to Dal's tone as he asks those things, though his nod is appreciative enough for the cloth-wrapped sandwiches. "The... culture." He frowns, turning his attention back onto the bronzerider as he says, "There have been behaviors I would not tolerate in my nine-turn-old son."

"''Flowers''," and N'rov's got a definite slantwise smile at Dal: does he need them? As the other man talks, he slings the sack into place before starting to unwrap his own; gravel crunches underfoot without the ice of earlier months, but he doesn't speak. Until, "Hard to believe he's nine, already. Last I saw Jay..." how long ''has'' it been?

"Lady Ruatha's finest blossoms, I hope," says Dal in reply, sans outright smile but with, at least, a note of amusement. He has sandwiches to unwrap, however; he does so carefully and with precision, if not as much as he might were he to have a table to lay them out upon. "He's grown since then." However long ago it was, this is surely true. "He's going to spend the summer with my parents."

"''That'll'' be a change." It isn't so long since the wheat shortage that N'rov is careless about the larger of his crumbs, but the smaller can fall unremarked unless it's on his shirt. His bites are, however, precise. "Getting to know them more? Out of dragon-land?" A glance, "Somewhere safe?"

"Fort Hold is quieter, these days. He'll climb trees; pick early apples." N'dalis does not sound especially thrilled about his son going away. He eats, slow and careful. "I ought to congratulate you."

"I can feel your enthusiasm." N'rov chews. Suddenly, brusquely, "I wasn't there for some of it. Ebeny. I was in Benden. E'dre didn't want us to stomp on them."

N'dalis turns his gaze, focusing upon N'rov with lifted chin and wide, thoughtful eyes. "Why not?" he wonders, low-voiced and curious.

"''Think'' he didn't want more of a fuss." N'rov grimaces, even now. "Like that would end it."

N'dalis' mouth compresses, tight and plainly less than happy. "I understand the fuss, but... it's not the first time Hematite riders have played 'pranks.'" The inverted commas are audible. "But I take the point. I wish you, C'stian and E'dre luck in changing the culture." His pause is only brief. "A lot of change, lately."

"It's not." N'rov chews on ''that''. "A whole lot." He messes with his wrapper. "What do you make of it?"

"I try to stay out of politics," Dal points out, this time with the faintest of half-smiles. "I don't know Lilah well. I ''didn't'' know N'muir well. It is a strange thing, to be honest, to not see Hattie at the helm. At least if it were Ali, she'd be ''familiar''." He may mean 'predictable.'

"If she hadn't gone to Southern," but N'rov shrugs, a tight movement. He doesn't look at Dal when he admits, "Seems strange to say, I miss N'muir. He's ''there''. But we're not supposed to worry him. It's hard, reminding them to report to Wroth." 'Them.'

"I don't think that I've ever spoken to N'muir," says Dal, so calm there's certainly no sense in it to suggest he disapproves; it simply is. Why would N'muir have spoken to him? He finishes his sandwich, chewing methodically. Then, "Change is difficult. Especially knowing it will change again, when one of the queens rises."

"Yeah. And ''Lilah''," N'rov cuts that off before it can get too bitter, flexing his shoulders. He looks up, but all there is is light.

"Lilah?" It's a prompt, but only a casual one.

He exhales. "I didn't realize she'd audition bronzeriders quite that... ''fervently''."

His brows raise, but Dal doesn't press. "Ah," he says. "She's not... the most ''diplomatic'' person I've ever met, as little as I know her."

"No." But it's with a grin that N'rov looks over at Dal. Tucking it away, though, "Do you miss any of your wingmates, tossed over to Hematite, all 'hither and yon'? Do you like how it is now? Now that you have some used-to-be-Hematite cluttering up the place."

"Miss? I don't know." It's a question Dal seems to consider with due diligence, folding up the remains of his napkin and tucking it into the pocket of his trousers, at least temporarily. "It's ''different'', but I don't know better or worse. Jasper's just a wing."

"'Just a wing'?" N'rov repeats it slowly, with reserve, as though that could keep it from seeming as though the greenrider spoke a completely foreign tongue.

With surprise, "What? Not everyone feels the same... sense of community you do."

"Did you... ever?"

Silently, Dal shakes his head. He even shrugs, too.

N'rov rubs the back of his neck; then he laughs, and has another bite of his meal. He does glance at Dal again, though, from the corner of his eye.

"It's not a big deal," says Dal, firmly. "I've never missed it. Reesa used to try and push..." he shakes his head. "I've just never felt the same way other people do. Truly, I should have stuck with the weyrlings."

N'rov has to laugh at ''that'' name. "She'll push anything that sat still enough and most that won't," he says. "Why didn't you?"

"Being in the barracks, even rebuilt..." Dal trails off. His expression is, as ever, more inclined towards serious than emotive, but there's nonetheless a suggestion of discomfort and disquiet. "Perhaps it would be easier, now. I don't know."

"Yeah." It's rough, with a duck of his head. N'rov hesitates further. "I don't know that Ebeny would mind ''your'' looking in, to say hello," but his tone suggests he won't speak for that woman. "With the clutches so close, they're bound to be busy, but at least she has a fair few assistants."

N'dalis', "Mmm," is quiet, his head turned so that he can stare out over the lake. It's audibly neutral. "Why did you bring me lunch today? Which isn't to suggest I'm not enjoying the company."

"Vhaeryth," well, and. "I wanted to check in with you," N'rov says, and shakes out his napkin. A few crumbs fall. He dusts it against his knee, first a slap and then just letting it shake against it as he walks. "We're changing up Hematite; we're changing up the others. We don't know how many months we have to do it in. Mostly..."

"Vhaeryth," and ''now'' Dal is smiling, as he so often does when it comes to something related to his Suraieth. Still, there's a lengthy pause then before he nods. "Changing things, of course."

N'rov glances away over the lake, restless. He's shaved, but the breeze picks at his hair where it's not pinned by the raised goggles, his hood slipped back across his shoulders. "So, yeah, wanted to see where you're at." He looks back. "Part of that's why you didn't come to Hematite; whether you might. Or whether it's better to just go out and have a drink," or a sandwich, "from a different wing."

"Better the latter," says Dal, being honest. "Hematite's not for me. Not as long as it's own for what it's known for." He gives the bronzerider a side-long glance, then lets his gaze drift upwards towards the distant dragons. "But thanks."

"Yeah." The bronzerider doesn't look so much disappointed as... thoughtful. "Reputation's worse than the reality, I think you'd find. And the reputation isn't that bad in all quarters. But I'll save you the 'you can make a difference!' speech for what there is."

"Hematite..." Dal shakes his head. "I'm sorry, but it makes me uncomfortable. The boys' club. The exclusivity. The... pranks, yes, absolutely. I understand it matters to you, but I could never be part of that, even without N'muir." He's still watching the dragons. "We ought to get back to our sweep."

"Don't want that, Dal." N'rov's quick to say it, and plain. He doesn't talk over the other man any more than that. "''Glad'' you're doing what works for you. I know it's not different yet. But what I needed to know," and he does now, "was it's your choice." He stops then, as though to turn back, as if the dragons couldn't land anywhere they chose.

"It's my choice," confirms Dal. "Switched to Jasper, way back when, and that was my choice, too. I'm good. I do appreciate the thought, though." His nod, solemn as it is, confirms that. And so does the calm way in which he approaches his green, as she returns to earth to collect him. "And lunch." He appreciates that, too.

"Next time," N'rov gives him, with a nod in return. Vhaeryth hasn't landed; Vhaeryth will see them on their way, for a while, before they too go.
}}

Logs:Trinity's 'Search'

2015-06-28T01:45:51Z

Dal:

{{Log
|who=N'dalis, Reesa, Trinity
|type=Log
|involves=Fort Weyr
|day=9
|month=12
|turn=33
|IP=Interval
|IP2=10
|what= Jasper's been involved in a brawl. Reesa thinks Trinity should stand. Dal... is less sure.
| gamedate = 2014.01.29
| icdate =Day 9, month 12, turn 33
| quote ="If you stay like that too long your face will freeze, Dal."
|where=Infirmary, Fort Weyr
| categories =
| mentions =Elise
| icons = n'dalis.png, reesa.jpg
| ooc =
| log =There's some noises from outside the infirmary- loud voices and such. Moments later, members of Jasper's wing straggle in, one by one or in pairs. Collectively, they look like they've been in some sort of fist fight or something, sporting bruises, small cuts and abrasions to their faces and hands, but oddly - overall in good spirits. Reesa's limping a little, leaning on N'dalis' shoulder. "Well, I don't care what he says- I counted that last punch as a victory. Even if he /was/ already unconscious."

Lunch was just finished for Trinity meaning her break from infirmary duties are over and it's back to work she must go! The noise outside the infirmary naturally draws her attention and she looks a bit surprised as the combatants straggle in. The infirmary aid slips between two Healers who have risen to meet those coming in and she draws closer to the door. So she's in perfect position to overheard Reesa's remark to N'dalis. A flash of recognition is seen briefly as she peers over N'dalis. "Well I'd say any fight that ends with the other knocked out is a win for the one still standing." she puts in her thoughts on that.

"I'm not sure it was strictly necessary," says N'dalis, whose resigned disapproval to the whole incident at least seems to have left him with only minor wounds to show, though that eye will probably purple prettily. He, too, recognizes Trinity, and though he's already not-smiling, he's now rather more seriously not-smiling. "Not that punch, and not the rest of it, either. Come on, let's get you sitting." It's not surprising that he's less cheerful than the rest, surely, nor that he's diligent in attempting to escort and support the other greenrider towards the nearest cot.

The girl's remarks draws Reesa's gaze immediately, some quick response clearly on her lips but never quite finished as she /looks/ at Trinity. Finally: "See, that's what I say. And it was satisfying, too," she adds, towards N'dalis, as if trying to convince him. "You can't tell me you didn't have at least a /little/ bit of fun. Even just a tiny bit?" she's holding up a hand, with fingers held the tiniest bit apart for a beat, before she has to give that up and use that hand to balance as she shuffle-walks towards a cot. Hopefully it's the right one, but she's not too fussed about that for the time being. "We need some ice for your eye, too, don't want it puffing over."

Trinity's grin is brief but it was there! "Um.." she seems unsure of how much she can do before the healer gets over to the pair. "Take a seat and I'm sure someone will see to you soon." she lingers though on the pretense she can fetch anything the healers may need. "Sounds like it could have been fun to me." chimes in Trinity. "How many were there?" her gaze roams the infirmary at the others who came in with fighting injuries.

"It was..." Dal doesn't finish that statement; he's too busy looking disapproving, and lifting his fingers towards his eye (though he doesn't actually touch it), having now been reminded of it. "That's what I get for trying to peacekeep," is his conclusion. And, "I don't think people who work in the Infirmary should be encouraging violence. There were too many. May we have some ice, please? Reesa, you should put your leg up, I think."

Reesa snaps her fingers, as if to get attention. "Ice. Or something cold." Apparently those earlier words where directed at Trinity, not that the greenrider qualified or hinted at that in any way. She's rather less sanguine about it than N'dalis. Easing onto the cot, she exhales, pats Dal's arm in silent gratitude, then frowns. "Sit down, then I can prop my leg up on your lap." Because a greenrider's lap is much more comfortable than a pillow. And, "Well, you stopped D'sig from rushing into that group of miners. Probably spared him a few broken bones. And Sirah, too- she would've followed him. So I'd say all in all you did well."

There's a pause as Trinity looks between Dal and Reesa. One did snap her fingers but on the other hand Dal did say please. Giving a bit of a shrug Trinity moves off to find ice which she puts into a bit of cloth and folds it up. Once she returns she makes a remark for Dal. "Without violence then us infirmary aids would have so little to do." quips the infirmary aid with a hint of amusement in her tone. She falls quiet though to listen to the pair of green riders with interest of learning what all happened out there.

Having been thus instructed, Dal does indeed sit down on the cot, and he /does/ help draw the other greenrider's leg up onto it. Whatever the lady wants, apparently. While Trinity's gone, he glances at Reesa with a pained look that may have something to do with the infirmary aide; by the time the girl is back, however, he's saying, "Well, I hope so. I don't imagine they'll thank me, though. Violence," this is to Trinity, too, "is surely only the least of your duties, and not a preferable option."

Reesa squirms around until she's comfortable, with one leg folded under her and the other resting across Dal's lap. She's got her boot on still, so it's probably difficult to see how swollen it might be. "Hey," she pseudo-whispers to N'dalis while Trinity is fetching that ice, pointedly ignoring that pained look, "I think Khiabeth's interested in her." She straightens when the girl comes back. There's a faint noise that might be disagreement with Dal, but at least she doesn't voice it aloud.

''Dragon> To Suraieth, Khiabeth is in the bowl, distracted with S'mis' blue, curling up against his side. She does seem /interested/ although not in any particular girl right now, truth be told.

There's a moment of debate as Trinity tries to figure out which one to hand the ice too. Finally deciding perhaps Dal to be the better one she gives it to him and steps back a couple paces. "Naw, I've other duties than handling violence cases." a brief smile appears on her expression. "It's not the best option but eh.." a shoulder lifts in a shrug. "Sometimes you got to do what you got to do right?" her gaze slides from Dal to Reesa briefly then back to Dal. "How's your kid?" asks Trinity suddenly.

The answer Dal gives to Reesa's pseudo-whisper is a frown, and raised eyebrows; /his/ head gives a quick shake. He takes the ice that Trinity offers, pressing it over his eye dutifully. "He's fine," is his relatively clipped answer to the girl, which rather bypasses the other thread of the conversation. To the other greenrider: "Su doesn't. And she says..." He's confused.

''Dragon> To Khiabeth, Suraieth, circling high over the bowl, casts a thought towards Khiabeth, like water lapping upon the shore of the other girl. She offers an image of Trinity; she seems confused. << Not her. >> Right?

Meanwhile, Reesa's just frowning right back at N'dalis. "Su is not as picky as Khiabeth. Besides, it's not like they all confer and agree or anything," she's saying, glancing sidelong at Trinity. There's something in that look, speculative and thoughtful. "What's your name?"

''Dragon> The response is something quizzical, distracted, and uncommitted. She's /busy/. (To Suraieth from Khiabeth)

Trinity has no idea of this thread of conversation between the two green riders. Flickering her gaze back to Reese she answers. "Trinity."

N'dalis opens his mouth, clearly intent on arguing /further/-- but he stops himself. He's frowning, though, and the look he keeps giving Reesa is incredibly dubious: really? /Really/? It probably looks pretty funny, given half his face is covered by the ice.

''Dragon> To Khiabeth, Suraieth abandons the attempt with a rush of water. She's /seriously annoyed/.

"If you stay like that too long your face will freeze, Dal," Reesa repeats that old wives' tale, reaching up as if to readjust where the bag of ice is pressing against Dal's face. "Trinity," she echoes the girl's name, looking sidelong at her, with a hint of a smile. "Would you like to stand for Elaruth and Bijedth's clutch?" a beat, then, "And I guess Isyath and Rasavyth's, if it comes to that."

Amusement flickers in her expression as Reesa informs the other green rider of the chances of his face freezing like that. Then Trinity's attention is quickly drawn to Reesa and it's one of disbelief. Surely she didn't just hear /that/ question. "Erm..what did you ask me?" she needs it repeated!

"Did you do it like that for /me/?" demands Dal, who ignores the comment regarding his face, and seems frustrated - if not outright irritated - with the rest of it. "You heard her. She wants you to Stand." There's emphasis on the 'she'. Heavy emphasis.

"If you're that hard of hearing then you probably shouldn't be a rider." Reesa says to Trinity, probably sharper than she means to, because of N'dalis' accusation. "What are you talking about?" She, at least, is playing the part of confusion well enough.

Trinity's eyes flash quickly with anger. Biting her lip hard to keep back any comment that she won't be able to take back later she eventually says. "I heard I heard..I just.." she flails a bit for the explanation. "...didn't expect to hear /that/ question." she has no idea who Dal's demanding question is for therefor she ignore it. Realizing she should, at this point, give an answer she does so with a quick nod and a spoken agreement. "I will. I mean yes, I accept." a deep breath is drawn and the flash of uncertainty is quickly hid.

N'dalis presses his mouth tightly closed rather than actually answer anything further. The ice gets set down, abandoned to the top of the cot. "Well," he finally says. "And there it is. Done. Just like that. You should go move your things into the candidate barracks," he tells Trinity. "Good luck."

Reesa's folding her arms, lips pressing together as she regards N'dalis. Well, at least he can't go anywhere yet with her leg still resting over his lap. She seems rather less interested in Trinity's answer - oddly - than Dal's reaction. "Khiabeth said she was good to stand. She's just- proddy, that's all." Only then does she finally look at Trinity, with a slow nod.

Trinity's gaze continues to flicker between the pair but she finally nods as she registered Dal's words. "Right. I'll grab my stuff then and move it all over." a pause. "Um...thank you." she adds with uncertainty.

"'Proddy,'" repeats Dal, sounding less than convinced, but that's the last of his arguments, apparently. "Congratulations," he adds to the newest candidate, attempting to smile... something that looks somehow completely wrong on his features. "Go on. I'll keep an eye on Reesa until the healer gets a chance to look at her."

"You're welcome," Reesa says, almost pointedly to Trinity, before looking back at N'dalis, kind of expectantly.

Trinity bobs her head again and backs up a few paces before spinning around to head out.

"What?" asks Dal, attention focused upon Reesa wholly, now that Trinity is gone.

"You don't believe me," Reesa says, flatly, squirming as if a little discomforted. A look over her shoulder towards the rest of the wing - most of whom with worse injuries are getting attention first - before she looks back at Dal. "Khiabeth searched you. And you Impressed Suraieth. I could hardly /fake/ that, Dal."

N'dalis exhales, lengthily. "No," he allows. "You couldn't fake that. But... Su didn't notice anything, with Trinity. And she asked Khiabeth and she..." He trails off, takes a deep breath, and then says, "Look. Whatever. She's a candidate. You searched her. It doesn't matter now, does it? You can't decide who Impresses."

"They don't always, if they're not interested. Suraieth might be more picky than Khiabeth," Reesa says, with a brief grin as if trying to wave it off. "Although- she searched Elise, didn't she? Khiabeth searched /her/ last clutch. Isn't that funny?" She's nodding to that last, yes - it doesn't matter, and yes, she can't decide who Impresses.

The way Dal blushes so abruptly is... interesting, really. And it's an /excellent/ distraction, because after that he only says, "Perhaps she'll have better luck, this time. Do you need me to stay?" Is he... running away?

Oh. Oh, no. He's not getting away now things are so /interesting/. Reesa keeps her leg right where it is, conveniently trapping him. "The healer hasn't seen either of us, yet. Besides, you told me to keep my foot up." And Dal's the only man for the job. "And why did you blush when I mentioned Elise? You didn't-?" she tips her head, and eyes widen. "Oh, you /cad/. With a /Blood/?" The way she says it is not like a Blood is offlimits, but like he could do /so much better/.

N'dalis' blush darkens, visibly. "/No/," he says, quickly. "No, no. I didn't. We didn't." It's too quick for there not to be some kind of guilt there, and with Reesa's leg trapping him so conclusively, there's not much for the greenrider to do but explain. "We were both in the training room when Isyath went up. Su Searched her, but-- you know what gold flights are like. She kissed me. I... kissed back." There's guilt in his tone. "Until I remembered myself. I haven't spoken to her since."

A moment of silence, then a gaffaw of laughter. "Is /that/ all?" Reesa shakes her head, "Honestly. The way you reacted I could've sworn you two- well. Hardly worth even blushing over, Dal." But it /is/ worth her punching him affectionately in the shoulder nearest her. "What say we get another pack of ice for my ankle, get the healer's okay, then open up a bottle of wine up in my weyr. I owe you for getting me out of there. Plus /I/ won't be able to pry Khiabeth from S'mis' blue anytime soon."

A shrug seems to be the best answer to that Dal can offer, though by his expression he's relieved, and, thankfully, the blush is beginning to recede. One of his hands reaches as if to poke at her foot, probably in answer to that affectionate punch, but stops before actually doing so. "That sounds like a plan," he agrees. "Su and I'll get you home safe."

A sharp inhale of breath is taken in anticipation of that hand connecting, and when it doesn't, Reesa gives him a long look, then a smirk that mutates into a genuine smile. "Thanks, Dal. Now-" she casts about, quickly switching into demanding greenrider role, managing to snag the attention of one of the healers to tend to the pair of them before they depart.

Is that an actual teasing smile on Dal's face? All is forgiven, clearly. Still, he's obviously relieved to get out of the Infirmary... and more than happy to head off, and enjoy that wine, his eye purpling up /beautifully/.
}}

Logs:Visitors

2015-06-28T01:44:42Z

Dal:

{{Log
|who=N'dalis, Reesa
|involves=Fort Weyr
|type=Log
|day=25
|month=3
|turn=32
|IP=Interval
|IP2=10
|what=Reesa visits N'dalis in the Infirmary.
| gamedate = 2013.07.14
| icdate =Day 25, Month 3, Turn 32
| quote =But at least they went together.
|where=Infirmary, Fort Weyr
| categories =
| mentions =Ali, B'rant, E'dre, Ebeny, Hattie, N'muir, N'rov, R'zi, K'varl
| icons = n'dalis.png, reesa.jpg
| ooc =
| log =The thing about having a ceiling fall down on your legs is that, well, legs don't really like that much. N'dalis got part way out of the collapsed barracks with the help of a healer and his dragon, and then his legs collapsed on him, and now he's here in the infirmary, a few days later, largely immobilized. /This/ time, he's got Suraieth with him, though the green is presently sleeping, holding her injured wing tentatively even in dreams. Dal's watching her, partially propped up in bed, his brows knitted like he's trying to reassure himself that she's still breathing.

Reesa's been an unusually somber presence over the past few days - even her normally bubbly self affected strongly by the loss of a weyrling. Although she's wearing one of her usual bright summer dresses, on her left arm she's wearing a brown armband. She's doing the rounds of the weyrlings laid up here - having seen to the dragons first, by perhaps no surprise. Silent, the greenrider settles onto the stool by N'dalis' bed, following his look towards Suraieth. "Seeing them like this is- the hardest. She's young, though-" the blonde trails off, abruptly- as if struggling to find more reassuring words- /she's/ no dragonhealer, and doesn't pretend to be. So instead she asks the rotely awkward question: "How are you?"

"They say it'll heal," agrees Dal, turning his attention from his green towards the greenrider who Searched him, all those months ago. "That she'll get to fly, eventually. I guess it works out, since it's not like I'll be doing much ''walking'' for a while. Not without a crutch, anyway." His own expression is serious and somber, though he seems quite calm, now, his gaze studying Reesa thoughtfully. "I'll heal, too. I'm not having nightmares like some of the others, at least. Is that armband for -" He stops.

There's a long hesitation, unusual for Reesa. She touches the armband, then slowly, "When S'fin died, a lot of people wore this. Even if they didn't really know him that well, or didn't trust him. I- know how hard it is to have a clutchmate die." She stops, takes a breath, focusing on Suraieth to gather her composure before she finally looks back at him. "You're both still with each other, you'll learn together." Like, for her, that's the most important thing in the world. "Do you need anything? Water?"

N'dalis' lips part, and his head inclines: ah. He understands, then. He exhales, too. "I didn't trust R'zi," he admits. "He lied about where he was from, he snuck back in to… but the point is, he didn't deserve to die. And there's no chance they escaped, is there? Tajireth couldn't have known anywhere safe to /take/ them." This has him chewing on his lip, scraping away the dry skin. "Company," he admits. "I could use company. I've been trying to keep at my harper lessons, but I can't do that all day, and everyone's - busy. Unsurprisingly."

There's a moment of hesitation on Reesa's part, but it's so brief as to be missed. "The dragons keened," as if that should be answer in and of itself. It's his latter request that finally earns a flicker of a smile from the blonde. "I can do that- for a while, anyway. I'll have to check up on your fellows in a bit, too. They're settling in well to the ground weyr - most of them, anyway. I suspect Isyath may not welcome the company on her ledge, but given she's only there at night I'm sure Ali'll put her in her place." A somewhat wry smile; like Ali could put /anyone/ in their place. "On the bright side, you'll get out of morning laps and sack tossing. Not exactly compelling stuff, there."

Despite the question, Dal doesn't seem to have expected anything else as an answer; he's certainly not /looking/ for anything else. "Poor R'zi," he says. "But at least they went together." His gaze has slid away from Reesa, and back towards the sleeping Suraieth, as if he's imagining what /could/ have happened. Turning back, "I appreciate it. For a little while. Su said Isyath was kind to her, during everything. I appreciate that, too. I - " He almost smiles. "Kind of miss the physical exertion, to be honest. I'm not /used/ to doing nothing at all."

"If it ever happened to me- I'd want it to be together. With her," Reesa agrees, gaze distant a moment, something fond and warm spilling across her features. As her gaze comes back, and he talks, there's a brief flicker of something /heated/, but now is not the time, /nor/ place, and mercifully, she keeps her mouth shut. She /does/ reach out for fingertips to brush his forearm, however briefly, a gesture that could be taken as reassurance. There's something in her voice when she finally speaks, but it's faint as she says evenly, "You won't miss it when you start doing it again. I was never good at running- nor /catching/. So- you need something to keep your mind occupied instead?"

"I can't imagine being /without/ her," agrees N'dalis, his voice soft and his eyes half-closing, as though he's willing such a thing to never, ever happen. Her fingers on his forearm /do/ get taken as reassurance, and there's a smile for it - tentative, but grateful. "So… we're lucky. We'll heal. We just have to /wait/." His nod is far less tentative, and rather /more/ eager. "I'm not used to being idle. It was hard enough when I was in here before the hatching, but now… Any suggestions?"

The other greenrider watches- and there's empathy in those warm blue eyes of hers for his talk of his dragon. Then: "Most of the games I know involve drinking and removing clothing." Reesa is unapologetic about this, and there's maybe even a flicker of a smile. "Neither of which you're likely to do in here. I mean, I suppose, if you're interested- you could always read up on history? Clutches? We could play 'match the temperament to the rider' with your clutchmates, or just the riders in general? Though that'd be easy if you picked 'grouchy'."

N'dalis, in response, is just a /little/ stiffer as a result of it, but also valiant in his own attempt to smile. "I can't see that going down too well," he agrees. "I'm not sure the healers would approve of strip poker. I'm pretty sure Suraieth wouldn't, either." And /that/ is apparently the only game along those lines he knows about. Her mention of history draws a thoughtful nod, the kind that suggests he's tucking that idea away for later, but for right now... "If I said grouchy, who /would/ your first instinct be? I suppose /you/ would have to be... 'fun', maybe?" Beat. "Ma'am."

"Well, maybe when she's older," Reesa concedes with another fleeting smile and a glance for Suraieth's direction. As for grouchy: "N'muir." /That/ is no contest, given how quickly the blonde responds to that. She seems, if anything, /pleased/ at this guess for her. "Fun- I'll take that." It's said with a genuine smile, before she props her chin on the palm of her hand, and says: "Irresponsible."

/Older/. Given Dal's expression, it's as though he finds it hard to imagine, even if he's just barely smiling for it… and for /N'muir/, too. "You're not our fearless leader's greatest fan, I see," he says, in a way that could very nearly be /teasing/. "I don't know him all that well, myself, but I admit he wasn't terribly friendly. But… irresponsible? Are you sure you're not just trying to get me to name you again? Even if you /are/ a weyrlingmaster-in-training." This time, he really /must/ be teasing.

This time, Reesa manages to look affronted, even if it's /mostly/ an act. Mostly. "I'm not /that/ bad, surely? And how could you not have come up with N'rov's name immediately? He's done far worse than /I/ ever did." Or so she's claiming, anyway. She makes a disappointed purse of lips, then gives him a somewhat easier one: "Dedicated."

"What's N'rov done?" /That/ is prompt, and made with a smile; evidently, for all that Suraieth is not a happy-cheerful-bouncy dragon, she's done something to encourage her rider's smiles, these past few months. "This is gossip I haven't heard, clearly. Dedicated?" One finger lifts to tap at his mouth, and his eyes go serious again. "The Weyrlingmaster. She dug me out with a /broken wrist/. How about… 'driven'?"

"/I/ heard he keeps defying N'muir's authority, and he and E'dre don't much get on with him because of it. Something about a ship, or the tithes, or something." Reesa doesn't really know, or more than likely doesn't /care/ about the specifics. "I'm sure if you asked he'd readily tell you; he seems the sort." To brag? Maybe. "Agreed," of the Weyrlingmaster. "Driven?" the blonde echoes, tapping fingers to her lips in thought. "I can't think of anyone immediately. Maybe B'ral?" that old brownrider who is always up on the rim, waiting for the return of Thread. "Ambitious?" her gaze is on N'dalis for this one, interested in his take.

N'dalis is interested in this explanation of N'rov, his expression not giving much away of his reaction to it; all he says is a quiet, "Huh. Interesting." He nods in answer to B'ral, adding, "I might've said the Weyrwoman, but I think there are other words you could use for her." He doesn't /seem/ to imply that they're negative ones. "Ambitious? A couple of my clutchmates, you know the ones. Wingleader before they graduate. But - people /say/ the Weyrsecond is, don't they? That he wants to be Weyrleader himself?"

"E'dre? People /say/ so. I haven't had much to do with him outside the wing. But anyway, he rides a /brown/," Reesa says, dismissive: brownriders can't be /Weyrleader/. "I don't know why weyrlings agitate to be in charge anyway. It just means more work, more /hide/ work. I'd much rather be a wingrider, and have the freedom to do whatever I want with my free time."

Quiet for a moment, Dal eventually says, "Suraieth said Tajireth was… not /ambitious/, as such, but… driven. He believed she could be more. More than what she was. R'zi, too." Mentioning his former clutchmate has his expression turning serious. "I think… I can't see myself as a leader, not at all. I'm a good /follower/. Perhaps that's why I'm a greenrider."

"Dragons can be just as complex us we can." Some more than others, Reesa's expression might well suggest, given the wryness, though it doesn't last, given the talk of R'zi. "I suppose it depends where you come from, as well. I never really expected, nor wanted to lead. For someone like K'varl," once-heir to Boll, "Or B'rant, it must be a shock." It's the latter that makes her grin. "Khiabeth wasn't at /all/ surprised you Impressed a green. Said she knew, though of course she didn't /say/ until after Suraieth found you. But; for you I wouldn't say 'follower', so much as 'paternal'."

"B'rant," says N'dalis, with a sigh. He's not the kind of person who speaks ill of others easily, but it's obvious that something about the former holder rubs him the wrong way. "Wasn't she? Hah. I /was/ surprised, but… she's perfect. And I suspect I would have been surprised at anything." /His/ descriptor makes him smile, if wistfully. "Paternal. I can't argue that. Even if… well, I'm not much of a father to my own son, at the moment. But I knew that, going into this."

Reesa picks up on that tone, with an obvious interest. "You aren't a fan?" curious, more than judgemental; the greenrider doesn't seem to have a strong opinion either way. "You don't need to have children to be paternal; I saw the way you dealt with some of the younger candidates. The way you watched out for them." There's a shrug of shoulders, dropping casually as she spies one of the healers passing by giving her the stink-eye. "I'd better let you get some rest before I get shooed off. I'll have Khiabeth keep an eye on Suraieth."

N'dalis hesitates before answering her question on the topic of B'rant. "It feels like he forgets that he is /also/ just a weyrling, though I won't deny that he helped when the-" barracks caved in, probably. His head shakes, and if there's more he'd like to say, he stops himself. "I suppose I've just had a lot of practice at being paternal. I'm glad I /can/ be. Can help, somehow. I - yes, of course. Thank you, Reesa. Ma'am." For brightening his afternoon, presumably. His smile is genuine, broader than usual. "She'd like that. Thank you."

"Anytime. As long as she remembers, anyway," that concession to her dragon's lack of memory done with an ease of acceptance. Reesa pats N'dalis' arm briefly before she slips away.
}}

Logs:Torn (2)

2015-06-28T01:43:54Z

Dal:

{{Log
|who=N'dalis
|what=Dal's family are at the feast. It goes... well. It goes.
|involves=Fort Weyr
|type=Log
|day=18
|month=1
|turn=32
|IP=Interval
|IP2=10
| gamedate = 2013.06.23
| icdate =Day 18, Month 1, Turn 32
| quote =
| location = Fort Weyr
| mentions =Bria
| icons = n'dalis.png, n'dalis suraieth.jpeg
| ooc =
| log ="Dal?"

His mother seems uncertain, somehow, her arms too tight around Jaymin's tubby frame. His father puts his arm around her waist, as if he, too, is taking comfort from that physical proximity.

"Ma. Father. Hi."

It's only then that Dal realised how awkward he feels, too. Perhaps part of it is Bria's words, ringing in the back of his head; part of it, too, is the sudden realisation that everything really had changed. Forever.

"I didn't think you'd be here. I would have looked for you."

"You're our son, Dal. Of course we came. If it's important to you - "

He can see that his father doesn't understand. He doesn't understand why his son would have accepted Search in the first place, and he doesn't understand, now, what his Impression means.

None of it means that they don't love him, though.

"It is important to me, Father. '''She''' is."

"Dada?" Jaymin is reaching his arms out, and without thinking about it, Dal takes him, holding him close, and breathing in the smell of soap and milk and the lavender his mother puts in the pillow cases. He smells of home.

"Hi Jay. Did you see? Did you see me with the dragons?"

"She looks pretty." His mother again, blurting the words out uncertainly, as though she's not entirely sure that's what she's supposed to be saying.

Jay has buried his head into Dal's shoulder, tubby fists clinging to his father's shirt. It hurts, suddenly: he's blissfully, amazingly, perfectly happy, in a way he hasn't been since Ellisa, but at what cost? What about '''Jay'''?

"She's beautiful, Ma. She's… I can't describe her."

"It's good to see you smile, son. I just wish…"

"You'll look after Jay for me? Until I can…?"

"Until what?"

The party is going on around them. It feels, suddenly, oppressive - Dal finds himself leading his family away from it, down into the caverns. Jay is falling asleep against his shoulder, solid and comforting.

"Until I can take him again. Once I'm a rider…"

"Dal…"

He can feel both of them looking at him, their gazes heavy. He knows what they're thinking. He knows that they're quite possibly right. He knows, too, that it was selfish to do this… selfish, and yet how can he regret it? Across the bowl, she is sleeping, and even in sleep the very thought of her makes him want to dance, or cry, or maybe both.

"We'll work it out. Somehow. I won't be an absent father, Ma. It'll be easy to visit. Eventually, I'll be able to put him to bed every night."

"We'll see what happens, son. Give the boy to your mother. We need to get him home."

It feels like a dismissal. Like his fatherhood is being overruled and overwritten; it feels like a kick to the gut.

Suraieth is stirring. He can feel it in the back of his mind, like ripples in a lake he wasn't even aware of. Right now, amid everything, it just makes him feel worse. He'd like to argue, and promise things, and hold on to Jay for just a little longer… and he can't.

And he wants to go, as much as he doesn't.

He leans down, pressing a kiss to Jay's dark head, then hands the boy's sleeping form back. "I'll come home as soon as I can," he says. "I promise."

Later, Suraieth is mystified by his emotions.'' << You love him, and you love me. How can that be wrong? He is small, and I will not be; I do not see how the two can interfere. It is not logical. >> ''

"Not love," he finds himself whispering into her shoulders, the hide oil-rich beneath his mouth. "Duty."

''How can I balance my duty to you, Su, and to the Weyr, with my duty to him? ''

''<< Worry, >>'' she says, placidly. ''<< is a waste of energy. Worry will change nothing. You must not fear. >> ''

It's a strange thing. She's not comforting in the active sense: she's not warm, and she's not loving, and she's not soothing. And yet, in the stillness of her waters, and the absolute motionless of her form beside him, it's hard to remember what he was so afraid of.

I must not fear.
}}

Logs:Tattletale (2)

2015-06-28T01:43:30Z

Dal:

{{Log
|who=Dal, N'rov
|what=Dal takes his suspicions to N'rov.
|involves=Fort Weyr
|type=Log
|day=4
|month=13
|turn=31
|IP=Interval
|IP2=10
| gamedate = 2013.06.09
| icdate =Day 4, Month 13, Turn 31
| quote =He claims to be from Fort Sea, but I lived at Fort Sea, and his accent is all wrong.
| where=Inner Caverns, Fort Weyr / The Glass Fountain, Fort Weyr
| mentions =Ali, Elise, R'zi
| icons = n'dalis.png, n'rov.png
| ooc =
| log =Feasts are great and all, even the kinds that have candidates served first, but there comes a time when a man has to take a break. So it is that N'rov makes his way between the crowded tables and out into the comparative quietness of the inner caverns. He pauses by one of the glowbaskets' niches, pulling into view what turns out to be a scarf that had been left there, then shrugs and pushes it back before starting to continue on the familiar path.

For some candidates, the whole being served thing is awkward and uncomfortable, and for ''some'', any excuse to step out is a good one. And so it is that Dal, having noticed N'rov's departure, excuses himself from the table to follow the bronzerider into the inner caverns. "Sir?" he says, hastening his stride so he can try and catch up. "Could I talk to you for a moment?"

It's a couple paces later that N'rov slows, turning. "Talking to me?" He's got an unhurried smile for whoever interrupts him, one that broadens a notch upon identifying Dal. "For you, /two/." The bronzerider's gotten his head shaved again, a few days ago by the looks of it; his garments are layered more than most Fortians' might be this time of Turn, what with the caverns being cool or chilly this far from the main cavern and all those people's body heat.

Dal is not exactly prone to /smiling/, but normally he'd have some kind of reaction to that remark; not tonight. No, now he just looks serious, his shoulders squared as he comes to a halt a few steps away from the bronzerider. "It's - that is, I'm concerned about one of the other candidates, and Junior Weyrwoman Ali did ask me to keep an eye out, and I thought you'd be a good person to talk to. I don't want to bother her, if I can help it."

If N'rov might otherwise have gone with the 'Do I look like a candidate coordinator?' response, at the invocation of Ali's name his expression changes, his jaw setting. "Meet me in," he glances up and down the cavern, "the Glass Fountain. I'll be a few minutes, so order me a beer and something you're allowed to have." If the candidate really wants to talk to him, he'll be there. If not, N'rov will at least have gotten his rest stop.

It's an expression - an implied reaction - that Dal can approve of, clearly. He nods, just once, and then turns on his heel to walk /directly/ to the Glass Fountain. Which could be considered a little rude, maybe, but the look on his face certainly suggests that he's only got one thing on his mind: getting this off of his chest. By the time N'rov arrives, Dal is ensconced in one of the booths, a mug of tea in front of him, and a beer set out across from him, ready and waiting.

N'rov doesn't take long to find him, and when he does, he has that seat across from Dal with the same economy of motion. The tea gets a brief look of interest, and he says, "Not running me much tonight, I see. It's a little," he lifts a shoulder, "more than where I usually go, but all right. What's on your mind." That said, time for the beer.

"I like tea," is Dal's reply, even and unashamed. He's /not/ one of the candidates who has been bitching about alcohol restrictions. "It's - Razi. I don't know if you've met him? He claims to be from Fort Sea, but I lived at Fort Sea, and his accent is all wrong. He sounds more like… Bria or Wyriker. Or you. It keeps changing, back and forth. I asked him about it, and he got evasive. He said it was his business, not ours. He's defensive, and… I feel like, given everything, maybe someone should try and find out what's going on."

"So the problem is," N'rov says, "not that you can't understand him or me or anything." Humor's sparked in his gray eyes, lingering even for the significantly more serious, "It's trying to fake it. Do you happen to know whether it gets more like me, or Riker or this Bria girl, when he's pissed or otherwise? Not that that couldn't be part of the plan, but why bother making someone suspicious in the first place, then."

Dal does not, especially, seem to be in much of a mood for humor, though he nods readily enough for that analysis. "It's - hm." He pauses, considering his tea for a lengthy moment. "When he gets distraced, I think. If you call attention to it, he's more consistent, but the rest of the time less so. I don't know. Why would anyone fake where they're from like that?"

N'rov is nodding. "Good that you came to me with it. I know just who to talk to." If he doesn't fly off the handle. Or maybe even if he does. "'Razi,' you said? Maybe he's running away from something. Maybe he's wanting to be someone else. Maybe he just had parents from each place," so he learned two different accents, "and they're fighting and it pisses him off."

There's something relieved in Dal's expression, something he can't seem to put into words - just a nod. And then, "Maybe that is all it is. /Maybe/. But I'd feel just awful, if it weren't this, and something happened. It feels like we can't be too careful." /We/, even if he blushes for having put it that way. "Razi. He used to be a Baker Apprentice, I think. He's not very forthcoming about more than that. What will happen, if there is something suspicious about him?"

This time, it's just one nod in return. "Better to be more careful than not, I'd say." N'rov drinks deep. "Back when I was a candidate," centuries ago, "the worst of it was that Boll and this Weyr weren't getting along. This one's a runner of a different color." He doesn't seem to mind the blush, though gray eyes are definitely amused. "What would happen would depend on what there is to find. Another possibility: he was from Boll, like me, and then when he got apprenticed, moved and picked up the rest. Maybe his parents disowned him, isn't that the sort of thing that happens in stories. Maybe they're cotholders scraping to get by and he's ashamed. Maybe he beat up the man who despoiled his sister. Maybe he's someone's runaway heir. Who knows."

"Or maybe he's one of the people we're supposed to be on our guard against." Dal leaves that possibility to hang in the air between them, though there's no sense from his expression that he's dismissing the likelihood of one of the less terrible options. His hands grasp more tightly to his mug; he gives N'rov a careful nod. "I remember hearing about the issues. Ellie took an interest. /She/ was interested in all the Fort Sea things, too, but that's longer ago. It must have been difficult, being from Boll yourself."

"Maybe. 'Ellie'?" N'rov had been surveying the room as though every face could have been a possible backstory, but the name brings him back. "It wasn't easy, particularly when we had guardsmen locked up for part of the tithe having gone missing. But we," and there's a considerably more personal note, "got that solved in the end. Anything else on your mind, Dal, as long as we're sitting here?"

"My wife." Dal lets that hang for a moment, but not with any particular emphasis: he's not going to let that be awkward. "She was a Harper." And he's /not/ a Harper, so while he's interested in N'rov's answer, he doesn't push for further information. "I don't know. I think I'm doing fine. I feel a bit old, compared to most of the other candidates, but that's no big thing. The Razi thing, that's the only thing that's really worrying me at the moment."

N'rov's nod recognizes the significance of Dal's reply, but no. No awkward. "No wonder she was curious," he says instead. "I had some of that, sometimes, but there was E'ten and a couple others. And it must be different, coming from a household of her own. I'll be sure to pass that along, whatever I don't look into myself, and in the meantime I'll thank you for keeping your eyes open but not spreading rumor around. You don't seem like the sort who would, but I have to say it anyhow."

Dal's gaze drops. "He nearly started a fight with me. Elise stopped it." His apology - his /shame/ - is unhappy, but honest. "I'll stay away from him. I won't say a word. I don't want to spread anything." Further. Shh. "Thank you, Sir. For listening. I appreciate it. I won't keep you. I'm probably supposed to still be at the dinner."

"Damn, Dal. I'd have said, it's not like you have to stay away from him, but yeah, don't screw yourself over with it." N'rov grimaces. "I'll see what I can do. Definitely go eat." In the meantime, he'll finish his beer, and when he sees Dal's gone, rub his knuckles over what remains of his hair. How'd he get to be the go-to guy, anyway?
}}

Logs:Suspicions (2)

2015-06-28T01:43:06Z

Dal:

{{Log
|who = Bria, Dal, Elise, Razi, Oreithiya
|involves=Fort Weyr
|type=Log
|day=23
|month=12
|turn=31
|IP=Interval
|IP2=10
|what= Dal gets suspicious about Razi's origins. Razi tries to turn conversation to riders and dragons.
| gamedate = 2013.06.05
| icdate = Day 23, month 12, turn 31 of Interval 10.
| quote = "You don't sound much like you're from Fort Sea."
| location = Candidate Barracks, Fort Weyr
| mentions = Ali, E'ten, Yamilet
| icons = n'dalis.png, r'zi.jpg
| ooc =
| log =

It's been a long day, for a certain former-baker candidate. While Razi's still tending to his baking duties (which means rising pre-dawn), his afternoon consists of reading old, boring treaties, which might explain the faint smudges of inks on one of his cheeks. Having gotten a little nap during the lesson, he's still relieved when the harper releases him, slouching his way into the barracks and making a beeline for his cot, one over from Dal's. Almost immediately, he collapses onto his cot, letting out a big, dramatic groan.

Dal, whose duties have had him in the storage caverns for most of the day, must have been released earlier than Razi, because he's already back in the barracks, and even (more or less) /clean/. Sitting cross-legged upon his cot, his attention is focused upon the stick of apple-wood he's whittling at, wood shavings caught in the rag he's spread upon the covers. Still, Razi's dramatics have his dark eyes lifting. "You've ink on your face," he points out.

Bria's entrance follows a few minutes after Razi's and she looks just as bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as usual. Whatever duties she had today must not have been physical enough to drain her of any happy energy. Her steps are light as she moves through the barracks toward where her cot is, waving to Dal and Razi both with a bright smile. "Wonderful day, isn't it?" That's probably a rhetorical question.

"Huh?" Razi lifts his head blearily from the pillow to squint in Dal's direction, and makes a halfhearted swipe at his cheek that probably only just spreads it more. "About to go to the baths- when I can get up again," he says. "Maybe I can find some cute girl to scrub it off for me-" and then he goes quiet, because Bria's coming in and, "Oh, hi, Bria," without a trace of embarrasement.

Dal gestures with his hand as if to give a better indication of where that ink stain is, though evidently he changes his mind on the use of it; a moment later, he's shaking his head and returning that hand to his carving. His eyebrows do raise at Razi's remark on cute girls, but Bria's arrival forestalls any remark on /that/ front. "Evening," he offers, neutrally. "It's been too nice a day to be indoors, certainly."

If Bria hears anything about cute girls washing anything, she pretends that she didn't, pausing near the end of the boys' cots because talking to her is *obviously* an invitation of sorts. "You look tired," she says to Razi, eyeing him for a moment before smiling at Dal. "Well, it's a little cold outside for my taste. I think curling up by a nice fire would be very nice." And since she's already standing there, Bria moves around to settle herself on the edge at the end of Razi's cot.

Razi's Fort Sea accent is less apparent at the moment, sliding more into a drawl reminiscent of Bria's Bollian- or maybe he's just emulating her again. "Won't miss being outdoors in a few sevens, it'll be cold as-" there might've been a curseword about to be voiced, but he doesn't continue, instead futilely scrubbing at his cheek again. With his height, he has to bend his legs for Bria to have enough room to perch there, though he doesn't seem possessive about his cot. "Used to finishing work by early afternoon and having time for a nap," he adds, punctuating this with a yawn.

Although Dal /had/ been glancing at Bria as she made herself comfortable, his gaze abruptly slides back to Razi when the younger man speaks, a deep furrow marring his forehead. "I'll grant you," he says, sounding placid enough despite whatever caught his attention, "now that the sun's gone down, it's definitely nicer indoors. It won't be long before winter, now. You're a... baker, aren't you, Razi? No wonder. /I'm/ used to being outdoors all day. In the orchards. Or out on the docks, when I was at Fort Sea."

Bria tilts her head to keep Razi in view as she pulls her legs up to settle in cross-legged. She's definitely not shy and she's probably curious about his drawl. But she doesn't say anything about it right now. "I'm not looking forward to winter," she says with a brief wrinkle of her nose. "Almost enough to make me consider going home." But only almost. "Oh! You're a baker? That's so sweet. What did you do before?" the last question is directed to Dal.

"Uh-huh," Razi's grunt confirms Dal's speculation. "Oh, you're from Fort Sea... too?" He pushes up onto one elbow to squint at Dal, his expression briefly uneasy. After a brief pause, his gaze flickers towards the girl perched on the end of his cot, kind of quickly, "Hey, Bria- have you teamed up with anyone for the assignment yet?"

In comes Elise, tugging the ribbon that ties her hair back and up and away from her face, to get it to come undone. She finds her cot, having to bob and weave around a couple of the other candidates as they make their way out, and sets herself down primly there atop the quilt. She begins braiding her hair, though isn't so internally focused that she doesn't watch the others as they talk.

"No," says Dal. "No, I'm from Fort Hold. But I spent a few turns at Fort Sea." It doesn't seem to be in his nature to be /suspicious/... and yet, there's something in his expression, even so. Something /watchful/. Still, as he goes back to whittling, turning the piece of wood in his hands as he works at it with his knife, he's easy in his answer to Bria: "Orchard worker. Would've been out collecting the last of the apples, today, if things'd been different."

"Uh," says Bria at the question offered by Razi while she's still working out the nuances of his exchange with Dal. "No. I guess I haven't." Since she's mostly focused on the boys, she doesn't really notice Elise in particular among the other candidates in the barracks. Dal's answer piques her curiosity and she asks, "Would you rather be picking apples than being here?" It's pretty obvious that an affirmative answer isn't what she's expecting.

"Oh, right." Razi's suddenly very interested in Bria- or maybe he's just avoiding Dal's gaze all of a sudden. He lies back down, sticking one hand under his head so that he can kind of watch the others, but he goes abruptly quiet, occasionally absently scrubbing at his inked-cheek.

The potential for growing tension in the room isn't lost on Elise, who watches between Razi and Dal while she does up her braids. And then there was Bria. "You haven't a partner yet? Want to be mine?" Because maybe that's a fun kind of distraction or something? Maybe? If there is need for one. And she finishes both braids, folds a leg up under her and clasps her hands in her lap. "Apple-picking seems a terribly boring job."

It's only when Elise actually speaks that Dal seems to register her presence - but at least when he does, he goes far enough to glance in her direction and give her a little nod. Hi. "Apple picking's not so bad, really. It's - well, you're /outside/, and it's physical, but not so difficult you don't have time to think. I miss the outside. I'm not unhappy to be here, though." Maybe there's long enough, as he says that, for Razi to think he's off the hook. But then? "Razi, you and I should be partners, since the girls have paired up."

Razi, too, was unaware of Elise's presence, and startles a little, peering in her direction. When she asks Bria to be partners, there's a hunching of his shoulders, and when /Dal/ asks, a long, awkward pause. AWK-WARD. "Uh, yeah. I guess," barely murmured, in that awkward Fort Sea accent of his.

Well, Bria hadn't *responded* to the question yet but since the boys are going to be like that (and probably because she would have said yes anyway), Bria glances over at Elise, smiles brightly and says, "I'd love to be your partner. And I'm sure you can go pick as many apples as you like after this is all over. Maybe you won't even Impress and you can go back to them." Again to Dal, though Bria makes it would like it's something she thinks he might actually like.

There, that's settled, and Elise doesn't really notice if she just ruined any team-making plans. And as for anyone noticing or not noticing her, she doesn't seem to notice or not notice that, so. A wry little smile curves her mouth when she thinks on what Impressing, then picking apples for a living might look like, and she adds, "You could have your dragon help. 'Reach the tall ones for me'."

"But then I'd miss out being up in the trees," points out Dal, cheerful enough (even if he's not actually smiling - his smiles are pretty rare). "And my dragon might damage the trees." He barely even glances at Razi, now, despite the younger man's awkward agreement... but that doesn't mean he hasn't noticed, oh no. "It feels strange, saying 'my dragon'. Or is that just me?"

"What do you do for the rest of the Turn? When the apples aren't ready to be picked?" Razi asks, perhaps to keep the apple-momentum going. Elise's comment for a /dragon/ helping earns a startled look. "Do you think dragons would do that? They always seem so... lofty and..." he trails off, "Ivwynoth was kind of frightening, though." He shakes his head briefly at Dal's comment, presumably in agreement.

"Well, you don't have one yet so saying it probably shouldn't feel very normal, should it?" At least that makes perfect sense to Bria. "I'm sure they'd be willing to help, though. Dragons are wonderful like that. Maybe one could help you plant your own orchard somewhere, even." And maybe Bria has a very naive view of the world. And dragons. And riders. But at least she sounds happy about it!

Elise seems pleased about this turn of conversation, her little smile lingering. "Oh I don't know," she replies to Razi, playing with one of those braids. "I think yours would, if you asked. And yes," that's for Dal, "it's weird. It's why I don't say it." When Bria agrees, or says like things, she nods along, see? "Exactly."

Dal sets down the knife he's been whittling with, and glances in Razi's direction again, casually. "There's always work to be done," he says. "Pruning, preparation, things like that. Trees need to be cared for. Like... fishing boats, even when they're not being used. I think," and now, he's shifting his attention around, glancing at one face and then the next, "dragons can be whatever way they like. From what /I/ can see, anyway. My point was that I don't know if I can see myself with a dragon. Can you guys, really?"

If Razi seems more awkward at the discussion of dragons, well - who wouldn't be, right? He pushes up into a seated position, tugging a hand through hair, frowning. "Dragons planting orchards? No," he's quick to refute Bria, like he's some sort of expert, which he's probably not. Again, in that Bollian sort-of-drawl, "But dragonriders get to do /anything/. I mean, it's like being a Blood without actually needing to be Blood, but better. People do /everything/ for you." Nevermind that there's a couple of Bloods in the room, he's oblivious to that - and he's sounding rather jealous, too. As for Dal's question: "I dunno - I can. I think I'd be good at it," and it's not exactly arrogant, just, /certain/.

Backed up by her fellow female, Bria's confidence in her 'knowledge' of dragons is only encouraged. "I've been dreaming about being a goldrider since I was a little girl. Getting whisked away by a handsome bronzerider." Does E'ten know he's become her handsome bronzerider? Probably not. Poor guy! Fortunately she's distracted by Razi's comparison of dragonriders to Blooded with a wrinkle of her nose and briefly narrowed eyes at his Bollian inflection. "People don't do everything for anyone." So there.

Yes. There /are/ a couple of Bloods in the room, aren't there. Elise's eyes narrow on Razi, not aggressively, like maybe they might have before, but... /narrowly/. "Yes, being Blood must be wonderful. You get all of that attention, and the /wealth/. And being able to do whatever you please. And having every decision made for you before you're even aware of it. /Yes/." That. She nods again at Bria, as if giving her the go-ahead with her comment. In agreement again~ "/I/ haven't thought about having a dragon. It's too strange a concept. Right now, the eggs are pretty to look at and I'm sort of... happy. Here."

Clear and impossibly blue skies lead to a rest day in the sun, though you couldn't tell it by the stack of hides and rare book that Oreithiya carries back into the barracks, towards the cot assigned to her. She pauses at the entrance to the Barracks, to get a better grip on her bundle, before stepping carefully through the crowded room to ensure nothing falls. Rei just doesn't /quite/ have the luck, as the top-most hide wobbles and trails off as the girl walks, pulling another, and another, until there's a little trail of work following her until she dumps it all onto her cot. Catching snatches of talks of dragons earns a curious look shot to the group, though she merely greets, "Hello," as she goes about collecting her breadcrumb-style hides.

Dal opens his mouth, as though he intends to say something on the subject of Bloods, but the two girls get there first; he shuts his mouth again, listening. Afterwards, in a measured tone, "I don't think dragonriding is quite as easy as all that. Especially goldriding." His fingers grasp for his knife again, though the piece of wood remains flat upon the cloth covering his bed. It's rude of him, perhaps, to do nothing more than glance vaguely on Oreithiya's direction as she passes, but he's abruptly distracted: he's back to giving Razi a wary, wary look. "You don't sound much like you're from Fort Sea," he remarks. Subtle... well, no. Subtle he is not.

"What do you think /we're/ doing right now?" Razi counters to Bria, although he's kind of- well, he backs up a little on his cot to leave some space between himself and Bria. Not that he's scared of her or anything, no. To Elise, without sensing any of her emphasis, "They get /everything/, and so do riders." He sounds anticipatory, if anything. He's lifting a hand in vague greeting to Oreithiya, but before he can voice anything, Dal's, well- "Of course I am," he insists, narrowed gaze on the other candidate. "You only spent a few Turns there, what do you know?"

Still sitting quite comfortably on the end of Razi's cot, Bria looks over to Elise on her own cot and has to ask, "Why are you Standing if you haven't thought about having your own dragon? Isn't that sort of the point?" Never mind that she's here in part because she's avoiding her life. Dal only gets a small sniff for his comments on riding. Especially goldriding. She'll just keep her wonderful ideas, thank you very much. "*We're* helping the Weyr run. Just like people in Holds help the Holds run." She'd probably say more about that but the exchange between Dal and Razi is becoming interesting.

Elise watches Oreithiya go by, wiggles her fingers in silent greeting, but she's mostly too caught up in the back and forth between Dal and Razi, gaze moving from one to the other. She lifts her eyebrow in reply at first to Bria's question, then shrugs. "Not to me," she answers easily, then looks to Dal since it's his 'turn'.

A smile and little wave is offered to Elise as well, though Oreithiya is /also/ looking between Razi and Dal as she coops up her hides. With the armful of escapees, she makes her way back to her cot. Once again, the second handful of hides is dumped on the bed, which happens to be within conversational range of Bria and Elise. "What are they going on about?" she asks, tone quiet while shuffling through her work. Belatedly, "Welcome," is offered with a smile. Which could also include Razi, if he happens to glance at her.

Dal's peacemaker tendencies are set aside so that he can focus, instead, on Razi's response. He's not defensive, though: his voice remains quiet. "Sometimes, you sound more like, uh, /Bria/ here. That's all. I don't know. It was just a comment. Anyway," and abruptly, he's got the faintest of rare smiles on his face. "She's right. We're helping the Weyr run. Someone commented to me that for every Dragonrider, you need a bunch of support staff, too, just to keep them flying. More of them, I guess, when there's Thread, but even now. It's everyone's duty to help support the Weyr."

Razi's looking distinctly uncomfortable at all the attention he's getting. "Why did you agree to stand, then?" He asks Bria, likely in an effort to distract the focus from him. The 'welcome' from Oreithiya earns a furrow of brow, but he doesn't seem inclined to ask, given Dal's follow-up comment. While his jaw does tighten, he doesn't respond - instead slipping off his cot and moving to the press at the foot of it to rummage around.

"What's the point for you?" Bria is curious about Elise's response. Genuinely curious. The idea of not Standing for the purpose of actually possibly becoming a rider seems foreign to her. Even if she herself is motivated by more than that one thing, too. Oreithiya finally gets more of a direct look and a smile blossoms on Bria's lips. "Oh, thank you! You were the one with the towel, aren't you." And that is forever how she will remember Oreithiya. Sorry! "I'm Standing because Weyrwoman Bria has a lovely ring to it. Don't you think? Maybe they'll write songs about me and people will sing them for the rest of forever." Think big, right?

When things start to dissipate again, and after making sure Dal isn't going to raise any more questions, Elise relaxes and looks over at Oreithiya to reply, as easily as if it /were/ the truth, "Bria." They're going on about Bria. Which lines up well with Razi addressing the very Bria she's talking about, and she smiles smugly at that, tickles the underside of her chin with the tuft of her braid. Bria's question deserves a more in-depth response than what she's willing to give here, with everyone /here/, so she just says, "Later, I'll tell you later." And as for the rest? She just smiles her mysterious little smile and shakes her head, tipping herself onto her back with a sigh.

"Bria," Oreithiya murmurs the name, turning to the flesh-and-blood girl. "Yes, I'm the one with the towel," she answers with an amused smile. "I was in a hurry! And I forgot to bring my clothes to the bath..." She shrugs as if to say 'what's a girl gonna do?' "The name's Oreithiya," offered with a smile. As Elise lays back, the girl turns attention to Razi and Dal, brows lifting. "Are we talking about the merits of being a dragonrider versus being... weyr residents?"

Dal may not be looking in Razi's direction, now, but there's a definite /something/ in the way he's sitting that suggests he's not wholly comfortable. Still, as he scrapes some more shavings from the piece of apple-wood he's been whittling, he sounds cheerful enough. "There was an implication made that dragonriders have everything done for them; that it's an easy life," he explains. "And that Bloods do, too. Some of us disagreed. No blows, though. We're all friends, right?"

Speaking of towels - Razi finally emerges from his press, throwing a towel over his shoulder as he straightens, then glances at Oreithiya. Yeah, he remembers her from the other night, now. To Bria: "That's if one of the eggs is a queen. Normally they're bigger than the others, but they all look the same size to me." Like he's an expert! He looks a little more at ease now that Dal's less focused on him. The baker's pointedly quiet on the /other/ discussion, though, even if he can't help the grimace at Dal's explanation.

Bria glances one last time over at Elise, considers the comment for a moment and then nods. She can wait till later. Once the other has laid back, Bria returns her attention to the others. "Oreithiya. I'll remember that. It's lovely." Since it's difficult not to be one of Bria's friends, Dal gets a quick look that suggests she doesn't really understand how everyone isn't already. "Maybe she's just *small,*" she finally says to Razi. Don't crush her dreams, man!

"Thank you," Oreithiya says to Bria with a smile, though Razi's comments on the eggs earns a slight bob of her head. "My first Candidacy hatched a gold egg, and that egg was definitively larger than the others." And very definitively /gold/. She doesn't add that part, but the uplift of her brows could say as much. "Is there? I suppose it might look like that from the outside, but from the riders I know, they work hard at what they do. True, it's a different type of work, but no different than the work I do as a beascrafter versus the work a kitchen worker does." As the hides are organized, the girl agrees, "We /are/ all friends here." Hopefully. "I suppose she could just be small..." don't mind the slight doubtful look cast Bria's way.

"Being a Weyrwoman sounds like an awful lot of work," is Dal's opinion on the subject, for all that it doesn't sound like he's /daunted/ by work, as such. "Or - maybe it's just that it seems like complicated work? I don't know. Better you lot than me!" He lifts his carving up towards the light, examining it thoughtfully, and then adds, "I guess we'll see, when they hatch. We'll be /close/. I've never seen a hatching before."

"Small," echoes Razi, without any real belief, either. He's listening to Oreithiya, but there's a set to his jaw that's maybe covered by his tugging the towel off his shoulder and absently folding it up. He flickers another look in Dal's direction, but now that the subject is off him, doesn't seem inclined to stick around, "Got to grab a bath, see you," he mutters, turning to slouch off towards the commons. Definitely a /Fort Sea/ accent, so there!

It's difficult to change the mind of someone that is willing to look past the little details for the possible realization of a life long dream. Especially someone that thought it was always going to be just a dream and not a possibility! "Everything can be work. But it's not work if you love doing it, right?" Because Bria knows so much about being a goldrider. Or a rider in general. "Good luck," she calls after Razi, not looking like she has any intention of getting off of his cot any time soon.

"It /is/ an awful lot of work," Oreithiya concurs with Dal when she's finished sorting her hides. "And not work I'd /want/, although I suppose if there is a gold egg it's something you've got to be prepared for." Well not Dal, specifically, given the fact that he's quite the wrong type to Impress any gold-sheened eggs. "In my first Candidacy, all of us girls were required to write a report about being a Weyrwoman." As Razi leaves, Rei waves a little farewell before turning her attention back to Bria. "What if there is no gold and you Impress green? Or blue?" Finally, to Dal, the girl grins wide, "It's /amazing/."

Dal sounds quietly distracted, glancing after the departing Razi, when he says, "It /sounds/ amazing. I'm looking forward to it. Hey -" Abruptly, he turns his attention back towards the two girls. "I'm not wrong, am I? Sometimes it sounds like he comes from Fort Sea, and sometimes he sounds more like... well, you. Bria, isn't it? Doesn't that seem... suspicious, to you?"

"How many times have you Stood?" asks Bria, wide eyes turned on Oreithiya, who has unveiled herself as a wealth of information about the subject via experience. "Oh, I'm not sure that would happen. Would it? I mean... I don't think that would happen." There's a real possibility that this isn't something that Bria has actually considered before now. "Especially a blue. I don't think they'd like someone like me, you know? And greens, well..." Her voice trails off like she ought to have an opinion there but none actually manages to come out of her mouth.

"I don't know him well enough to know," Oreithiya comments, with some apology, to Dal. "I guess I haven't paid attention..." But now that her attention is caught by this little idiosyncrasy, the girl's going to be focusing on it. Her determined expression says as much. "It could happy, Bria," Rei states, plopping down on her cot, swinging her legs. "I've stood two times, and this is my third Candidacy." She's totally an old hat.

Shaking his head, Dal admits, "I hadn't noticed myself, until now. Maybe it's nothing, but with everyone so jumpy... I promised the Junior Weyrwoman I'd keep my eyes open." And ears, clearly. He's distracted enough by that to have, apparently, not much more to say on the subject of Impression, though Bria's remarks make him blow out a long breath - one that doesn't seem entirely approving. In the end, his remark is a simple, "I suppose it's entirely up to the dragons to decide. We'll see. I should clear this up before dinner." Wood chips.

"Maybe he's just one of those people that picks up accents easily, you know?" Bria, always willing to reason out oddities in peoples' behavior. Her own Bollian accent has a strange Fortian twang itself. But it's pretty consistent most of the time and easily explainable considering where she is; Fort. "Well, maybe if I think really hard about not wanting anything but gold, they'll stay way from me, right?" Flawless plan in flawless. "I can't imagine Standing that many times, though. Are you sure there's a dragon out there for you?" While that question could easily be taken the wrong way, there's nothing malevolent in the way Bria asks it.

"No, it's good to notice," Rei states quietly, slightly disturbed by the prospect of someone lying about their accent, or their place of origin. "Okay, see you at dinner," she nods as Dal indicates he needs to clean up his whittling debris. Turning to Bria, the girl says slowly, "I... don't think it works that way. Just wishing for a /color/. They Impress to /you/ and you impress to them, their personality. It's like... " She struggles to find words to express what she can't even imagine and only comes up with: "It's complicated from what I gather." Beat. "I don't know," answered honestly, "But I'll never know if I don't try."

Dal nods, once, in Bria's direction, but doesn't seem convinced: he seems as uncomfortable with it as Oreithiya is, despite his silence. Without saying anything more, he gathers up the cloth covered in his wood scraps, and tidies away his things; then, he climbs off the bed, and heads for the door, expression a mask of serious consideration.

}}

Logs:Suspicions (2)

2015-06-28T01:42:22Z

Dal:

{{Log
|who = Bria, Dal, Elise, Razi, Oreithiya
|involves=Fort Weyr
|type=Log
|day=23
|month=12
|turn=31
|IP=Interval
|IP2=10
|what= Dal gets suspicious about Razi's origins. Razi tries to turn conversation to riders and dragons.
| gamedate = 2013.06.05
| icdate = Day 23, month 12, turn 31 of Interval 10.
| quote = "You don't sound much like you're from Fort Sea."
| location = Candidate Barracks, Fort Weyr
| mentions = Ali, E'ten, Yamilet
| icons = n'dalis.jpg, r'zi.jpg
| ooc =
| log =

It's been a long day, for a certain former-baker candidate. While Razi's still tending to his baking duties (which means rising pre-dawn), his afternoon consists of reading old, boring treaties, which might explain the faint smudges of inks on one of his cheeks. Having gotten a little nap during the lesson, he's still relieved when the harper releases him, slouching his way into the barracks and making a beeline for his cot, one over from Dal's. Almost immediately, he collapses onto his cot, letting out a big, dramatic groan.

Dal, whose duties have had him in the storage caverns for most of the day, must have been released earlier than Razi, because he's already back in the barracks, and even (more or less) /clean/. Sitting cross-legged upon his cot, his attention is focused upon the stick of apple-wood he's whittling at, wood shavings caught in the rag he's spread upon the covers. Still, Razi's dramatics have his dark eyes lifting. "You've ink on your face," he points out.

Bria's entrance follows a few minutes after Razi's and she looks just as bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as usual. Whatever duties she had today must not have been physical enough to drain her of any happy energy. Her steps are light as she moves through the barracks toward where her cot is, waving to Dal and Razi both with a bright smile. "Wonderful day, isn't it?" That's probably a rhetorical question.

"Huh?" Razi lifts his head blearily from the pillow to squint in Dal's direction, and makes a halfhearted swipe at his cheek that probably only just spreads it more. "About to go to the baths- when I can get up again," he says. "Maybe I can find some cute girl to scrub it off for me-" and then he goes quiet, because Bria's coming in and, "Oh, hi, Bria," without a trace of embarrasement.

Dal gestures with his hand as if to give a better indication of where that ink stain is, though evidently he changes his mind on the use of it; a moment later, he's shaking his head and returning that hand to his carving. His eyebrows do raise at Razi's remark on cute girls, but Bria's arrival forestalls any remark on /that/ front. "Evening," he offers, neutrally. "It's been too nice a day to be indoors, certainly."

If Bria hears anything about cute girls washing anything, she pretends that she didn't, pausing near the end of the boys' cots because talking to her is *obviously* an invitation of sorts. "You look tired," she says to Razi, eyeing him for a moment before smiling at Dal. "Well, it's a little cold outside for my taste. I think curling up by a nice fire would be very nice." And since she's already standing there, Bria moves around to settle herself on the edge at the end of Razi's cot.

Razi's Fort Sea accent is less apparent at the moment, sliding more into a drawl reminiscent of Bria's Bollian- or maybe he's just emulating her again. "Won't miss being outdoors in a few sevens, it'll be cold as-" there might've been a curseword about to be voiced, but he doesn't continue, instead futilely scrubbing at his cheek again. With his height, he has to bend his legs for Bria to have enough room to perch there, though he doesn't seem possessive about his cot. "Used to finishing work by early afternoon and having time for a nap," he adds, punctuating this with a yawn.

Although Dal /had/ been glancing at Bria as she made herself comfortable, his gaze abruptly slides back to Razi when the younger man speaks, a deep furrow marring his forehead. "I'll grant you," he says, sounding placid enough despite whatever caught his attention, "now that the sun's gone down, it's definitely nicer indoors. It won't be long before winter, now. You're a... baker, aren't you, Razi? No wonder. /I'm/ used to being outdoors all day. In the orchards. Or out on the docks, when I was at Fort Sea."

Bria tilts her head to keep Razi in view as she pulls her legs up to settle in cross-legged. She's definitely not shy and she's probably curious about his drawl. But she doesn't say anything about it right now. "I'm not looking forward to winter," she says with a brief wrinkle of her nose. "Almost enough to make me consider going home." But only almost. "Oh! You're a baker? That's so sweet. What did you do before?" the last question is directed to Dal.

"Uh-huh," Razi's grunt confirms Dal's speculation. "Oh, you're from Fort Sea... too?" He pushes up onto one elbow to squint at Dal, his expression briefly uneasy. After a brief pause, his gaze flickers towards the girl perched on the end of his cot, kind of quickly, "Hey, Bria- have you teamed up with anyone for the assignment yet?"

In comes Elise, tugging the ribbon that ties her hair back and up and away from her face, to get it to come undone. She finds her cot, having to bob and weave around a couple of the other candidates as they make their way out, and sets herself down primly there atop the quilt. She begins braiding her hair, though isn't so internally focused that she doesn't watch the others as they talk.

"No," says Dal. "No, I'm from Fort Hold. But I spent a few turns at Fort Sea." It doesn't seem to be in his nature to be /suspicious/... and yet, there's something in his expression, even so. Something /watchful/. Still, as he goes back to whittling, turning the piece of wood in his hands as he works at it with his knife, he's easy in his answer to Bria: "Orchard worker. Would've been out collecting the last of the apples, today, if things'd been different."

"Uh," says Bria at the question offered by Razi while she's still working out the nuances of his exchange with Dal. "No. I guess I haven't." Since she's mostly focused on the boys, she doesn't really notice Elise in particular among the other candidates in the barracks. Dal's answer piques her curiosity and she asks, "Would you rather be picking apples than being here?" It's pretty obvious that an affirmative answer isn't what she's expecting.

"Oh, right." Razi's suddenly very interested in Bria- or maybe he's just avoiding Dal's gaze all of a sudden. He lies back down, sticking one hand under his head so that he can kind of watch the others, but he goes abruptly quiet, occasionally absently scrubbing at his inked-cheek.

The potential for growing tension in the room isn't lost on Elise, who watches between Razi and Dal while she does up her braids. And then there was Bria. "You haven't a partner yet? Want to be mine?" Because maybe that's a fun kind of distraction or something? Maybe? If there is need for one. And she finishes both braids, folds a leg up under her and clasps her hands in her lap. "Apple-picking seems a terribly boring job."

It's only when Elise actually speaks that Dal seems to register her presence - but at least when he does, he goes far enough to glance in her direction and give her a little nod. Hi. "Apple picking's not so bad, really. It's - well, you're /outside/, and it's physical, but not so difficult you don't have time to think. I miss the outside. I'm not unhappy to be here, though." Maybe there's long enough, as he says that, for Razi to think he's off the hook. But then? "Razi, you and I should be partners, since the girls have paired up."

Razi, too, was unaware of Elise's presence, and startles a little, peering in her direction. When she asks Bria to be partners, there's a hunching of his shoulders, and when /Dal/ asks, a long, awkward pause. AWK-WARD. "Uh, yeah. I guess," barely murmured, in that awkward Fort Sea accent of his.

Well, Bria hadn't *responded* to the question yet but since the boys are going to be like that (and probably because she would have said yes anyway), Bria glances over at Elise, smiles brightly and says, "I'd love to be your partner. And I'm sure you can go pick as many apples as you like after this is all over. Maybe you won't even Impress and you can go back to them." Again to Dal, though Bria makes it would like it's something she thinks he might actually like.

There, that's settled, and Elise doesn't really notice if she just ruined any team-making plans. And as for anyone noticing or not noticing her, she doesn't seem to notice or not notice that, so. A wry little smile curves her mouth when she thinks on what Impressing, then picking apples for a living might look like, and she adds, "You could have your dragon help. 'Reach the tall ones for me'."

"But then I'd miss out being up in the trees," points out Dal, cheerful enough (even if he's not actually smiling - his smiles are pretty rare). "And my dragon might damage the trees." He barely even glances at Razi, now, despite the younger man's awkward agreement... but that doesn't mean he hasn't noticed, oh no. "It feels strange, saying 'my dragon'. Or is that just me?"

"What do you do for the rest of the Turn? When the apples aren't ready to be picked?" Razi asks, perhaps to keep the apple-momentum going. Elise's comment for a /dragon/ helping earns a startled look. "Do you think dragons would do that? They always seem so... lofty and..." he trails off, "Ivwynoth was kind of frightening, though." He shakes his head briefly at Dal's comment, presumably in agreement.

"Well, you don't have one yet so saying it probably shouldn't feel very normal, should it?" At least that makes perfect sense to Bria. "I'm sure they'd be willing to help, though. Dragons are wonderful like that. Maybe one could help you plant your own orchard somewhere, even." And maybe Bria has a very naive view of the world. And dragons. And riders. But at least she sounds happy about it!

Elise seems pleased about this turn of conversation, her little smile lingering. "Oh I don't know," she replies to Razi, playing with one of those braids. "I think yours would, if you asked. And yes," that's for Dal, "it's weird. It's why I don't say it." When Bria agrees, or says like things, she nods along, see? "Exactly."

Dal sets down the knife he's been whittling with, and glances in Razi's direction again, casually. "There's always work to be done," he says. "Pruning, preparation, things like that. Trees need to be cared for. Like... fishing boats, even when they're not being used. I think," and now, he's shifting his attention around, glancing at one face and then the next, "dragons can be whatever way they like. From what /I/ can see, anyway. My point was that I don't know if I can see myself with a dragon. Can you guys, really?"

If Razi seems more awkward at the discussion of dragons, well - who wouldn't be, right? He pushes up into a seated position, tugging a hand through hair, frowning. "Dragons planting orchards? No," he's quick to refute Bria, like he's some sort of expert, which he's probably not. Again, in that Bollian sort-of-drawl, "But dragonriders get to do /anything/. I mean, it's like being a Blood without actually needing to be Blood, but better. People do /everything/ for you." Nevermind that there's a couple of Bloods in the room, he's oblivious to that - and he's sounding rather jealous, too. As for Dal's question: "I dunno - I can. I think I'd be good at it," and it's not exactly arrogant, just, /certain/.

Backed up by her fellow female, Bria's confidence in her 'knowledge' of dragons is only encouraged. "I've been dreaming about being a goldrider since I was a little girl. Getting whisked away by a handsome bronzerider." Does E'ten know he's become her handsome bronzerider? Probably not. Poor guy! Fortunately she's distracted by Razi's comparison of dragonriders to Blooded with a wrinkle of her nose and briefly narrowed eyes at his Bollian inflection. "People don't do everything for anyone." So there.

Yes. There /are/ a couple of Bloods in the room, aren't there. Elise's eyes narrow on Razi, not aggressively, like maybe they might have before, but... /narrowly/. "Yes, being Blood must be wonderful. You get all of that attention, and the /wealth/. And being able to do whatever you please. And having every decision made for you before you're even aware of it. /Yes/." That. She nods again at Bria, as if giving her the go-ahead with her comment. In agreement again~ "/I/ haven't thought about having a dragon. It's too strange a concept. Right now, the eggs are pretty to look at and I'm sort of... happy. Here."

Clear and impossibly blue skies lead to a rest day in the sun, though you couldn't tell it by the stack of hides and rare book that Oreithiya carries back into the barracks, towards the cot assigned to her. She pauses at the entrance to the Barracks, to get a better grip on her bundle, before stepping carefully through the crowded room to ensure nothing falls. Rei just doesn't /quite/ have the luck, as the top-most hide wobbles and trails off as the girl walks, pulling another, and another, until there's a little trail of work following her until she dumps it all onto her cot. Catching snatches of talks of dragons earns a curious look shot to the group, though she merely greets, "Hello," as she goes about collecting her breadcrumb-style hides.

Dal opens his mouth, as though he intends to say something on the subject of Bloods, but the two girls get there first; he shuts his mouth again, listening. Afterwards, in a measured tone, "I don't think dragonriding is quite as easy as all that. Especially goldriding." His fingers grasp for his knife again, though the piece of wood remains flat upon the cloth covering his bed. It's rude of him, perhaps, to do nothing more than glance vaguely on Oreithiya's direction as she passes, but he's abruptly distracted: he's back to giving Razi a wary, wary look. "You don't sound much like you're from Fort Sea," he remarks. Subtle... well, no. Subtle he is not.

"What do you think /we're/ doing right now?" Razi counters to Bria, although he's kind of- well, he backs up a little on his cot to leave some space between himself and Bria. Not that he's scared of her or anything, no. To Elise, without sensing any of her emphasis, "They get /everything/, and so do riders." He sounds anticipatory, if anything. He's lifting a hand in vague greeting to Oreithiya, but before he can voice anything, Dal's, well- "Of course I am," he insists, narrowed gaze on the other candidate. "You only spent a few Turns there, what do you know?"

Still sitting quite comfortably on the end of Razi's cot, Bria looks over to Elise on her own cot and has to ask, "Why are you Standing if you haven't thought about having your own dragon? Isn't that sort of the point?" Never mind that she's here in part because she's avoiding her life. Dal only gets a small sniff for his comments on riding. Especially goldriding. She'll just keep her wonderful ideas, thank you very much. "*We're* helping the Weyr run. Just like people in Holds help the Holds run." She'd probably say more about that but the exchange between Dal and Razi is becoming interesting.

Elise watches Oreithiya go by, wiggles her fingers in silent greeting, but she's mostly too caught up in the back and forth between Dal and Razi, gaze moving from one to the other. She lifts her eyebrow in reply at first to Bria's question, then shrugs. "Not to me," she answers easily, then looks to Dal since it's his 'turn'.

A smile and little wave is offered to Elise as well, though Oreithiya is /also/ looking between Razi and Dal as she coops up her hides. With the armful of escapees, she makes her way back to her cot. Once again, the second handful of hides is dumped on the bed, which happens to be within conversational range of Bria and Elise. "What are they going on about?" she asks, tone quiet while shuffling through her work. Belatedly, "Welcome," is offered with a smile. Which could also include Razi, if he happens to glance at her.

Dal's peacemaker tendencies are set aside so that he can focus, instead, on Razi's response. He's not defensive, though: his voice remains quiet. "Sometimes, you sound more like, uh, /Bria/ here. That's all. I don't know. It was just a comment. Anyway," and abruptly, he's got the faintest of rare smiles on his face. "She's right. We're helping the Weyr run. Someone commented to me that for every Dragonrider, you need a bunch of support staff, too, just to keep them flying. More of them, I guess, when there's Thread, but even now. It's everyone's duty to help support the Weyr."

Razi's looking distinctly uncomfortable at all the attention he's getting. "Why did you agree to stand, then?" He asks Bria, likely in an effort to distract the focus from him. The 'welcome' from Oreithiya earns a furrow of brow, but he doesn't seem inclined to ask, given Dal's follow-up comment. While his jaw does tighten, he doesn't respond - instead slipping off his cot and moving to the press at the foot of it to rummage around.

"What's the point for you?" Bria is curious about Elise's response. Genuinely curious. The idea of not Standing for the purpose of actually possibly becoming a rider seems foreign to her. Even if she herself is motivated by more than that one thing, too. Oreithiya finally gets more of a direct look and a smile blossoms on Bria's lips. "Oh, thank you! You were the one with the towel, aren't you." And that is forever how she will remember Oreithiya. Sorry! "I'm Standing because Weyrwoman Bria has a lovely ring to it. Don't you think? Maybe they'll write songs about me and people will sing them for the rest of forever." Think big, right?

When things start to dissipate again, and after making sure Dal isn't going to raise any more questions, Elise relaxes and looks over at Oreithiya to reply, as easily as if it /were/ the truth, "Bria." They're going on about Bria. Which lines up well with Razi addressing the very Bria she's talking about, and she smiles smugly at that, tickles the underside of her chin with the tuft of her braid. Bria's question deserves a more in-depth response than what she's willing to give here, with everyone /here/, so she just says, "Later, I'll tell you later." And as for the rest? She just smiles her mysterious little smile and shakes her head, tipping herself onto her back with a sigh.

"Bria," Oreithiya murmurs the name, turning to the flesh-and-blood girl. "Yes, I'm the one with the towel," she answers with an amused smile. "I was in a hurry! And I forgot to bring my clothes to the bath..." She shrugs as if to say 'what's a girl gonna do?' "The name's Oreithiya," offered with a smile. As Elise lays back, the girl turns attention to Razi and Dal, brows lifting. "Are we talking about the merits of being a dragonrider versus being... weyr residents?"

Dal may not be looking in Razi's direction, now, but there's a definite /something/ in the way he's sitting that suggests he's not wholly comfortable. Still, as he scrapes some more shavings from the piece of apple-wood he's been whittling, he sounds cheerful enough. "There was an implication made that dragonriders have everything done for them; that it's an easy life," he explains. "And that Bloods do, too. Some of us disagreed. No blows, though. We're all friends, right?"

Speaking of towels - Razi finally emerges from his press, throwing a towel over his shoulder as he straightens, then glances at Oreithiya. Yeah, he remembers her from the other night, now. To Bria: "That's if one of the eggs is a queen. Normally they're bigger than the others, but they all look the same size to me." Like he's an expert! He looks a little more at ease now that Dal's less focused on him. The baker's pointedly quiet on the /other/ discussion, though, even if he can't help the grimace at Dal's explanation.

Bria glances one last time over at Elise, considers the comment for a moment and then nods. She can wait till later. Once the other has laid back, Bria returns her attention to the others. "Oreithiya. I'll remember that. It's lovely." Since it's difficult not to be one of Bria's friends, Dal gets a quick look that suggests she doesn't really understand how everyone isn't already. "Maybe she's just *small,*" she finally says to Razi. Don't crush her dreams, man!

"Thank you," Oreithiya says to Bria with a smile, though Razi's comments on the eggs earns a slight bob of her head. "My first Candidacy hatched a gold egg, and that egg was definitively larger than the others." And very definitively /gold/. She doesn't add that part, but the uplift of her brows could say as much. "Is there? I suppose it might look like that from the outside, but from the riders I know, they work hard at what they do. True, it's a different type of work, but no different than the work I do as a beascrafter versus the work a kitchen worker does." As the hides are organized, the girl agrees, "We /are/ all friends here." Hopefully. "I suppose she could just be small..." don't mind the slight doubtful look cast Bria's way.

"Being a Weyrwoman sounds like an awful lot of work," is Dal's opinion on the subject, for all that it doesn't sound like he's /daunted/ by work, as such. "Or - maybe it's just that it seems like complicated work? I don't know. Better you lot than me!" He lifts his carving up towards the light, examining it thoughtfully, and then adds, "I guess we'll see, when they hatch. We'll be /close/. I've never seen a hatching before."

"Small," echoes Razi, without any real belief, either. He's listening to Oreithiya, but there's a set to his jaw that's maybe covered by his tugging the towel off his shoulder and absently folding it up. He flickers another look in Dal's direction, but now that the subject is off him, doesn't seem inclined to stick around, "Got to grab a bath, see you," he mutters, turning to slouch off towards the commons. Definitely a /Fort Sea/ accent, so there!

It's difficult to change the mind of someone that is willing to look past the little details for the possible realization of a life long dream. Especially someone that thought it was always going to be just a dream and not a possibility! "Everything can be work. But it's not work if you love doing it, right?" Because Bria knows so much about being a goldrider. Or a rider in general. "Good luck," she calls after Razi, not looking like she has any intention of getting off of his cot any time soon.

"It /is/ an awful lot of work," Oreithiya concurs with Dal when she's finished sorting her hides. "And not work I'd /want/, although I suppose if there is a gold egg it's something you've got to be prepared for." Well not Dal, specifically, given the fact that he's quite the wrong type to Impress any gold-sheened eggs. "In my first Candidacy, all of us girls were required to write a report about being a Weyrwoman." As Razi leaves, Rei waves a little farewell before turning her attention back to Bria. "What if there is no gold and you Impress green? Or blue?" Finally, to Dal, the girl grins wide, "It's /amazing/."

Dal sounds quietly distracted, glancing after the departing Razi, when he says, "It /sounds/ amazing. I'm looking forward to it. Hey -" Abruptly, he turns his attention back towards the two girls. "I'm not wrong, am I? Sometimes it sounds like he comes from Fort Sea, and sometimes he sounds more like... well, you. Bria, isn't it? Doesn't that seem... suspicious, to you?"

"How many times have you Stood?" asks Bria, wide eyes turned on Oreithiya, who has unveiled herself as a wealth of information about the subject via experience. "Oh, I'm not sure that would happen. Would it? I mean... I don't think that would happen." There's a real possibility that this isn't something that Bria has actually considered before now. "Especially a blue. I don't think they'd like someone like me, you know? And greens, well..." Her voice trails off like she ought to have an opinion there but none actually manages to come out of her mouth.

"I don't know him well enough to know," Oreithiya comments, with some apology, to Dal. "I guess I haven't paid attention..." But now that her attention is caught by this little idiosyncrasy, the girl's going to be focusing on it. Her determined expression says as much. "It could happy, Bria," Rei states, plopping down on her cot, swinging her legs. "I've stood two times, and this is my third Candidacy." She's totally an old hat.

Shaking his head, Dal admits, "I hadn't noticed myself, until now. Maybe it's nothing, but with everyone so jumpy... I promised the Junior Weyrwoman I'd keep my eyes open." And ears, clearly. He's distracted enough by that to have, apparently, not much more to say on the subject of Impression, though Bria's remarks make him blow out a long breath - one that doesn't seem entirely approving. In the end, his remark is a simple, "I suppose it's entirely up to the dragons to decide. We'll see. I should clear this up before dinner." Wood chips.

"Maybe he's just one of those people that picks up accents easily, you know?" Bria, always willing to reason out oddities in peoples' behavior. Her own Bollian accent has a strange Fortian twang itself. But it's pretty consistent most of the time and easily explainable considering where she is; Fort. "Well, maybe if I think really hard about not wanting anything but gold, they'll stay way from me, right?" Flawless plan in flawless. "I can't imagine Standing that many times, though. Are you sure there's a dragon out there for you?" While that question could easily be taken the wrong way, there's nothing malevolent in the way Bria asks it.

"No, it's good to notice," Rei states quietly, slightly disturbed by the prospect of someone lying about their accent, or their place of origin. "Okay, see you at dinner," she nods as Dal indicates he needs to clean up his whittling debris. Turning to Bria, the girl says slowly, "I... don't think it works that way. Just wishing for a /color/. They Impress to /you/ and you impress to them, their personality. It's like... " She struggles to find words to express what she can't even imagine and only comes up with: "It's complicated from what I gather." Beat. "I don't know," answered honestly, "But I'll never know if I don't try."

Dal nods, once, in Bria's direction, but doesn't seem convinced: he seems as uncomfortable with it as Oreithiya is, despite his silence. Without saying anything more, he gathers up the cloth covered in his wood scraps, and tidies away his things; then, he climbs off the bed, and heads for the door, expression a mask of serious consideration.

}}

File:Icon n'dalis smile.png

2015-06-28T01:39:58Z

Dal:

File:Icon n'dalis.png

2015-06-28T01:39:57Z

Dal:

File:Icon n'dalis sad.png

2015-06-28T01:39:57Z

Dal:

File:Icon n'dalis crooked smile.png

2015-06-28T01:37:52Z

Dal: