NorCon MUSH - User contributions [en]

Logs:Rocky Respect

2015-06-08T22:45:20Z

Rasaid: Created page with "{{Log |who=Hattie, Rasaid |what=Saluting is important, even if it means stopping work. |where=Lake Shore, Fort Weyr |involves=Fort Weyr |day=10 |month=13 |turn=37 |IP=Interval..."

{{Log
|who=Hattie, Rasaid
|what=Saluting is important, even if it means stopping work.
|where=Lake Shore, Fort Weyr
|involves=Fort Weyr
|day=10
|month=13
|turn=37
|IP=Interval
|IP2=10
|gamedate=2015.06.08
|quote="Are you doing this deliberately, Rasaid, or was your education so thoroughly neglected that I need to ensure that you have intensive lessons with our harpers?"
|weather=Early in the morning and late in the evening, the cold rain falling turns to almost-pleasant snow, but most of the day is mired in a bleak, gray drizzle.
|type=Log
|icons-new=Icon Hattie.png, Icon rasaid huh.jpg,
|desc=>---< Lake Shore, Fort Weyr >------------------------------------------------<

The lake's shore is a broad crescent of golden-hued sand, stretching from
the southwest wall near the feeding grounds and around to the southeast
where the sand gives way to soil and leaf detritus from a cluster of hardy
mountain trees. Where the lake deepens, clear blue water darkens to murky
teal, hiding stony depths. Dragons often sun here and riders use the lake
for dragonwashing in the warmer seasons, while all of the Weyr's denizens
may enjoy walks and picnics among the large, smooth boulders that
interrupt the smooth flow of sand. Many of the Weyr's children also play
at skipping stones with the wide variety of rocks available along the
water's edge.
>------------------------------------< 10D 13M 37T I10, winter afternoon >---<
|log=A break in the rain has brought a few brave souls out to the shore of the lake for some fresh air while the chances of not winding up soaked to the skin are good, and among those few trailing along by the water are the Weyrwoman and her queen, the latter stepping steadily with her paws just in the more waterlogged sand, where the cool water can wash up and over those sensitive paws every now and then. The voluminous, fur-lined hood of Hattie's leather coat has been drawn up, concealing much of her face, yet surely Elaruth's presence so near is enough to mark her for who she is. Neither seem to be in any hurry; no clear destination in mind.

Rasaid is hardly quiet as he interupts the calm along the shoreline. Each step is loud as he walks with his burden slung over his shoulder. It's full of... something. Something very heavy because it makes the well built man bend under the weight. He's wearing a well worn cloak that at one point was probably very nice, but still does the job of more-or-less keeping the weather out. His attention remains fixed on the pathway in front of him and he gets within just a few steps of the woman blocking said path before he realizes she is there. A grunt comes with the realization as he lifts his eyes up. Woman, then out to the water, dragon. He'd shrug, but there's a bag on his shoulder. "Scuse." And he jerks his head at the pathway.

Hattie just... stops. She achieves a halt, booted feet digging into the sand, and looks up Rasaid up and down, then still... doesn't move. Elaruth hesitates the moment that she realises her rider has stopped walking, even if it is a moment after the goldrider, and though her focus likewise finds the Candidate, hers is diverted to that which he's carrying, her slim muzzle aiming a nudge at it. It's a gentle motion, but it could be enough to dislodge or unbalance it. "Do you think that you could manage to speak an entire word or is that much of manners beyond you?" Hattie puts to him, her dry tone devoid of amusement.

Rasaid stumbles as the bag is pushed sideways, and he steps right into a snow drift that hasn't //quite// washed away yet. Rather than answer the woman right away he shuffles out of the snow, shaking the wet from his boots and, now very wet, pant legs. If some of it flicks towards the woman surely it is not deliberate. "Dunno. Mayhap." He resettles his heavy burden on his shoulder and looks up again. "Ma'am. Salute. But ain't got hands." They grip the heavy sack over his shoulder, the infinitesimal movement hard to see in the hands, but evident in the way the bag itself shakes. "Scuse."

There's no reaction from Hattie, even as droplets strike her long coat, and very little of any invested sort of response until Rasaid repeats that half-word that she seems to object to so much. She continues to refuse to budge, and since she doesn't move on, neither does Elaruth, the pale little queen choosing to settle just in the surf of the lake. "Let's start with some basic common sense, shall we? Or do I assume you have no idea about respect?" The Weyrwoman gestures to the bag and states, "Put that down," in a tone a little too cool to be pleasant. "And maybe you can start with that salute, since you can't manage 'please'."

Rasaid stands for a moment before shrugging once. "No skin off m'back." Swinging his burden around he settles it with a heavy THUNK on the ground, the contents within sounding like a cascade of small rocks clinking together as they resettle into a new arrangement. After brushing his gloved hands together Rasaid does the salute. And then he'll repeat, "Ma'am."

It isn't that Elaruth appears to have no idea of boundaries, for she doesn't invasively intrude upon Rasaid's personal bubble of space, yet, now he's no longer carrying the bad, she noses his way to take a sniff somewhere near his shoulder before she shifts her attention to investigate the bag settled on the ground. "Good," Hattie drawls, her manner somewhere between patronising and irritated. "I suggest that you at least go out of your way to manage that much in future, and betters manners, besides, if you'd like to make it to the hatching without someone or other assigning you further work." Her head tilts. "What's your name?"

Dragon anywhere nearby is still novel enough that Rasaid takes notice now that pesky things like heavy bags are not a distraction. He eyes the gold for a moment, before a grunted, "Pretty." issues from his lips. Then it's back to the not-so-happy human half of the equation. "Better manners." It's like he's making a checklist in his mind. "Stop work. Salute. Don't mind work. Rasaid." At some point she might get a full sentence out of him.

While Hattie's growing frustration may as well be gathering around her in a dark cloud, Elaruth remains the metaphorical light, nothing of her rider's mood in her calm blue eyes, nor the careful tap she means to deliver to Rasaid's nearest arm before she retreats back into her own space. "Are you doing this deliberately, Rasaid, or was your education so thoroughly neglected that I need to ensure that you have intensive lessons with our harpers?" It /sounds/ like a genuine question, even with the taint of irritation there. And yet she can't argue on the matter of her lifemate. "Yes," she agrees, "she's beautiful."

Rasaid reaches up one gloved hand and scratches at the back of his neck, silence issuing after the irritated question directed in his direction. "Well." He begins to reply, then pauses, shrugs once and drops his hands. "Can't rightly say. Don't mind workin'. Lessons ain't too bad. Do I keep m' bed and meals?" Important stuff there. Rasaid's expression is schooled into mute passivity. Hard to tell if he's being dull on purpose, or if it's how he really talks.

"You can't say whether you're speaking this way on purpose, or whether your education was lacking?" It's rather plain from the dark look that Hattie fixes him with that she believes she's being played. "If you require more intensive lessons, you'll have those as well as the ones you must already attend, and your Candidate duties. If you manage to keep up your end of the bargain, then I see no reason why you'd go without food and shelter." She manages to sound quite dull herself when she affects disinterest and tells him, "You'd have very little free time."

"Mayhap both." Rasiad raises an eyebrow at the woman's inflection at the end, but he doesn't rise to the bait. No, he'll just stand there as solid as a rock next to his possibly-filled-with-rocks bag and wait out her words. "Welp. No freetime, no chance for trouble. Less I'm forgettin' to salute." It comes out from his lips without a slightest of blinks.

"Fewer chances for you to forget 'please' and 'thank you'," Hattie remarks, the twitch of one shoulder hardly a shrug. "I'm going to assume that that's agreement and make sure one of the Journeymen draws up a schedule for you, in that case," she decides. "If this is some farce you've decided to deliver for your own amusement, I can safely say that it won't be amusing for very much longer, especially if the harpers find you're wasting their time." A threat and a promise both, and /then/ she finally (finally) moves out of the way, stepping around Rasaid to continue on her journey with her queen without so much as a 'goodbye'.

"Got it. Please. Thank you." Rasaid half turns to allow the woman to continue on his journey, watching for a moment. A sudden thought hits him and he pauses in his bend down to retrieve the bag. His words are puncuated by a grunt as he hauls it to his shoulder. "Ma'am?" He calls the question after her, not expecting too much of a response, "Why's the weyr needin' rocks?"

"It's probably firestone!" Hattie calls back, both without missing a beat or looking back, her sedate pace one that still makes considerable progress along the shore. Or perhaps it's just that she wishes it to /look/ sedate, when it's in-fact a more brisk escape than she'd like to admit to.

"Firestone." Rasaid repeats, this time true confusion covering his face for a few moments before he makes the connection. "Dragons. Fire breathing." It makes sense. He begins his own shuffle back to the weyr with his sack over his shoulder. It's after he's taken a few steps that he mumbles, "Thought firestone was black."
|Categories=Search Logs
}}

Rasaid

2015-06-07T04:56:40Z

Rasaid:

{{Profile
|picture=rasaid.jpg
|mother=Holder, name unknown
|father=Holder, name unknown
|siblings=3, names undisclosed
|children=None
|friends=None
|body={{wysk}}

==Description==
The faintest hint of curl peaks out of brown hair that seems to have been allowed to grow just slightly too long. It rests over an oval face with a scruffy beard that looks less than well cared for. Years of sunlight give this young man a deep tan, but without the wrinkles of age. Slightly heavy-set, Rasaid is shorter than the average man, but broad and steady, his shoulders looking slightly bull-like. He is no stranger to hard work as his hands bear the marks of hard work. Nothing is particularly striking about Rasiad, except for dark brown-almost black eyes that hint at inner demons.

==Extra OOC==
http://kevan.org/johari?name=ftw-rasaid

http://kevan.org/nohari?name=FTW-Rasaid

== RP Logs ==

{{NewLogs |name={{BASEPAGENAME}}}}

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

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

{{Icons}}

'''Played by:''' Scott Adkins
}}
{{Character-Categories}}

Rasaid

2015-06-07T04:51:31Z

Rasaid:

{{Profile
|picture=rasaid.jpg
|mother=Holder, name unknown
|father=Holder, name unknown
|siblings=3, names undisclosed
|children=None
|friends=None
|body={{wysk}}

==Description==
The faintest hint of curl peaks out of brown hair that seems to have been allowed to grow just slightly too long. It rests over an oval face with a scruffy beard that looks less than well cared for. Years of sunlight give this young man a deep tan, but without the wrinkles of age. Slightly heavy-set, Rasaid is shorter than the average man, but broad and steady, his shoulders looking slightly bull-like. He is no stranger to hard work as his hands bear the marks of hard work. Nothing is particularly striking about Rasiad, except for dark brown-almost black eyes that hint at inner demons.

==Extra OOC==
http://kevan.org/johari?name=ftw-rasaid

http://kevan.org/nohari.cgi=ftw-rasaid

== RP Logs ==

{{NewLogs |name={{BASEPAGENAME}}}}

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

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

{{Icons}}

'''Played by:''' Scott Adkins
}}
{{Character-Categories}}

Rasaid

2015-06-07T04:49:21Z

Rasaid:

{{Profile
|picture=rasaid.jpg
|mother=Holder, name unknown
|father=Holder, name unknown
|siblings=3, names undisclosed
|children=None
|friends=None
|body={{wysk}}

==Description==
The faintest hint of curl peaks out of brown hair that seems to have been allowed to grow just slightly too long. It rests over an oval face with a scruffy beard that looks less than well cared for. Years of sunlight give this young man a deep tan, but without the wrinkles of age. Slightly heavy-set, Rasaid is shorter than the average man, but broad and steady, his shoulders looking slightly bull-like. He is no stranger to hard work as his hands bear the marks of hard work. Nothing is particularly striking about Rasiad, except for dark brown-almost black eyes that hint at inner demons.

==Extra OOC==
http://kevan.org/johari?name=ftw-rasaid

http://kevan.org/nohari.cgi=ftw-rasaid

== RP Logs ==

{{NewLogs |name={{BASEPAGENAME}}}}

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

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

{{Icons}}
}}
{{Character-Categories}}

Logs:Fighting Words

2015-06-07T00:44:00Z

Rasaid:

{{Log
|who=Farideh, Rasaid, C'stian, C'stian{{!}}Liesanth, Lilah, Lilah{{!}}Eliyaveith, Kaelige
|what=Attempts are made to repair friendships, but they fail, spectacularly.
|where=Galleries, Fort Weyr
|involves=Fort Weyr
|day=4
|month=13
|turn=32
|IP=Interval
|IP2=10
|gamedate=2015.06.06
|quote="Even something flawed can be lovely... After all, look at you."
|type=Log
|icons-new=Icon farideh.png, Icon lilah.png, Icon Kaelige.jpg, Icon rasaid.jpg,
|log=The noise of multiple teenaged, chattering weyrlings comes first, followed swiftly by the weyrlings themselves, complete with the ever-watchful J'vain herding them up into the galleries. They move towards the middle of the spectators' tiers, shuffling in one by one with the assistant weyrlingmaster on the outside. It's Farideh on the other end, wearing a brightly enthused expression and her riding leathers, and only half-listening to the two greenriders on her right. She leans forward, forearms braced on her bent knees, to stare wide-eyed at the fifteen colorful eggs on Fort's golden sands; her mouth might even be hanging open a little in awe. But overall, High Reaches' weyrlings seem more interested in chatting about the myriad people in the galleries than the healthy clutch down below.

It is in the back tiers of the galleries that the junior weyrwoman can be found, not the expected front row or on the sands with her queen, and perhaps that is why she goes overlooked by most that filter in and out of the galleries during the day. Or perhaps because she has her nose buried in hidework rather than paying much attention to what is going on around her, though her gaze does flick upwards at that invasion of the galleries by the weyrlings, there. It is enough to bring Eliyaveith's attention around to the group intently as well, only nudging at her mate at her side demandingly before she stretches to her feet, finally. The eggs are all buried in the middle of the sands, none yet rearranged into any particular order or preference. Even that gold one is buried so that it almost tilts against one of those brighter eggs, one of the ones with colorful hues lined in white.

Cleaning. Legit reason to be here. Rasaid hefts a bucket up the first flight of stares, moving slowly and carefully soas not to slop an of the droplets over the side. Rags that have seen more than their fair share of use hang over his shoulder just waiting to be employed. His face is impassive, and eyes fixed on the chore, and not on the eggs behind. It's like he doesn't even notice there's something unusual there. On the second tier he stops, and sets the bucket down. Reaching into the water he fishes out a scrub brush and kneels to apply it to the floor firmly.

The bronze gets to his feet as well, nuzzling the queen for a moment before twisting to gaze at the eggs intently. It's around this time that his rider enters as well, bearing a tray with two mugs of klah, and a platter of various baked goods. C'stian glances around the galleries, and -- upon spotting Lilah -- heads that way with the tray. "Weyrwoman," he greets politely, as he places the tray on the benches beside her. The presence of gawkers, come to see the eggs, perhaps encourages civility.

Giggles follow the movements of dam and sire, but those sounds are hushed by J'vain, coupled with a reminder to be quiet and respectful of the foreign queen. "I'm glad ''I'' don't have to scrub any floors," comes the snicker from one of the blueriding weyrlings, while another remarks, "Do you think that's ''really'' a gold egg? Roszadyth's egg didn't look so-- so--" Farideh, by then, is making a face down the line. Teenagers, how embarrassing, amirite? "We're supposed to be ''looking'' at the eggs, not making fun of everyone and everything. They'll never let us back," one of the greenriders whines. They are a lovely bunch, to be true. Standing, Farideh gives J'vain a nod and ambles across the row, to the stairs, before plodding her way down to the railing, where she can pretend she's not with Larry, Curly, and Moe up there.

The gesture goes unwelcomed for the moment by the goldrider, her gaze drawn and held onto those weyrlings as the drifts of their remarks make it to the tiers above them. C'stian, likely, can read the flicker of annoyance by now in dark eyes, for all that for once it isn't aimed at him. Luckily for the weyrlings, the wingsecond's presence does eventually break through, bring her attention back to him. "C'stian," she actually offers, glancing briefly at the tray before looking back towards the weyrlings. Eliyaveith, at least, seems to be ignoring them, though the way she is now studying her own eggs seems to hold a worry of its own, perhaps just a coincidence on the heels of the weyrling's remark about the gold. But then the queen is moving forward to gently bump one of her eggs out of its depression in the sands.

Head bent to his task one could almost think that Rasaid is completely out of touch with what is going on in the rest of the galleries. But no. Because once he scrubs an arms length worth of floor he stands, turns, and repositions himself so that there is no one who could be behind him. (No one present.) Dipping a rag into the bucket he kneels on the floor again and goes over the scrubbed portion, wringing out the rag when done. Rinse. Repeat.

Liesanth watches Eliyaveith nudge an egg, and then positions himself a short distance away. The bronze begins to excavate a hole in the sands, though pauses periodically to glance over at Eliyaveith, either to examine the egg she's looking at, or perhaps to seek her approval. C'stian, meanwhile, takes one of the mugs of klah and then moves towards the railing; once there, the Hematite wingsecond seems to divide his attention between the weyrlings and the dragons on the sand. "Most weyrlings aren't exactly known for holding their tongues," he points out, a little wryly, towards the greenrider.

Kaelige intends his visit to be brief. He intends not to make much contact. He could have waited until the eggs had been on the Sands awhile, and for less on-lookers to be gathered. But his curiosity has already proven stronger at times than his good sense. Hooded figure drifts in from the tunnels below that empty into the tiers of the galleries. Amidst a crowd, he detaches himself to slow his already not-hastened pace as he nears a clearer section of railing to turn his bluegreens out over the sands from beneath his hooded shadow. But he can't be anywhere without causing a problem, and as he notices Rasaid actually doing work, he can't help but interrupt it. An 'accidental' step sorta-meaning to go over the bucket knocks it almost ''almost'' over to spill the sudsy content everywhere. But, he's not that mean. Right? "Sorry." The faked apology coincides with a dark chuckle.

Three sets of eyes lift to the bronzerider, three faces showing guilt. They quickly lowers their voices, muttering between themselves, and noticeably quiet enough as to inform the whole of the galleries about whatever subjects they're discussing. Farideh makes it to the railing just in time to see Kaelige ''knock'' over Rasaid's bucket of water. She frowns, one hand on the railing, but remains silent for the time being, if with disapproval written all over her face, for the hooded-candidate.

Eliyaveith rolls that egg carefully into the hole that Liesanth has made, burying sand around it carefully as she does so before the large queen is lumbering off to focus on the next one. Even as those weyrlings show that guilt, it is Lilah who stands up in her tier as she catches C'stan's words. Except, the lift of her voice over the galleries is directed to ''him'', despite the very public nature of where they are and who is around, as she challenges, "And you would rather make ''jokes'' about it than to ''say'' anything, right? Because ''that'' would mean doing something about it before they upset ''either'' of our dragons."

So far Rasaid has moved slowly, feeling his way for new surroundings with an eye of quiet caution. But some of that illusion shatters when he shoots out his hand to catch the bucket before it can overturn itself with Kaelige's help. Dirty water still slops over from its side, reaching for Rasaid's legs to wet them completely. His hands curl against the bucket as his dark eyes track upwards, the barest flicker of anger in them. But... oh, the dulcent tones of someone in authority. "Later kid." The muttered promise is just for Kaelige's ears.

There might be a brief moment where C'stian's gaze is cast upwards, as if begging Faranth's spirit for strength. "No," he replies to Lilah. His tone is calm, but he speaks slowly and perhaps his jaw is a bit tense. "Because a light joke might make them realize /without/ having to lecture or yell. Which /would/ upset our dragons." His dragon, meanwhile, shows no signs of being upset; Liesanth makes his way over to another spot and begins to excavate another hole for his mate's ongoing efforts.

If Kaelige is aware of the scrutiny from the weyrling goldrider, he doesn't seem to care. He does cast a look over his shoulder, though, just behind the rim of that hood of his. Gaze trails across those he recognizes, and then down at his 'fellow' candidate. The drawn authority in the young man's voice drawns a wider smirk, a playful if instigating narrowing of his eyes. "That floor that important to you?" He presses against the promise of 'later', his gloved palms turning up in both question and innocence as he shrugs. But he's not going to push his luck too far. It wouldn't be the first time he got kicked out of the galleries if he did. He places that booted foot down and then continues on to stand against the railing nearby without further intruding on Rasaid's chore.

The goldrider might well rue the day she decided to step foot in Fort's galleries, for two altercations in one short time span, but Lilah and C'stian's public spat is enough to pull her focus from the two younger men. Farideh looks confused for a short second, and then flicks a puzzled glance to J'vain, who shrugs his shoulders indifferently. She releases the railing and moves to the stairs, taking them two at a time until she's closer to the other goldrider. Her voice is a bit tremulous, but beseeching, "Lilah?"

It seems like that is a common theme with anyone who enters Fort's galleries; but at least the public spat between the junior weyrwoman and the Hematite wingsecond doesn't continue further beyond that. Lilah's gaze narrows on C'stian for a moment, but it's pulled away at Farideh's approach. The younger goldrider may even catch the subtle draw of air into the woman's lungs as she forces herself to let it go, before she greets, "Farideh. Fort's duties." She even gestures to a spot on the bench next to her before she sits back down.

At least the altercation between the candidates is a quiet one. Very quiet. Rasaid moves the bucket just slightly away from Kaelige, and props his heavy frame up on his kees. He keeps his tone low, even, helped along by his naturally deep voice. "Kid." Very slowly. "Don't know what makes you think you got to prove your dick length to me, but you need to get it clear. I. don't. care." Purposefully Rasaid wrings out the towel, eyes fixed on Kaelige, applying more force to the effort than is strictly necessary. His muscles weren't built up recently. They're a thing he's got well in hand.

Perhaps luckily for Kaelige, the quiet nature of the candidate confrontation and the fact that he's distracted by arguing with Lilah keeps C'stian from noticing that particular little altercation. When Lilah doesn't push it further, however, he pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a moment to recover his composure. He does, however, apparently just abandon the pastries as tribute to the goldriders, turning his attention intead to the dragons on the sand.

"You care enough to talk to me." Kaelige's grin doesn't lose any of its smugness as he leans his arms over the railing for the moment, if only to buy him reasonable time to talk to Rasaid without looking like he means to stay long. He doesn't even look at the older candidate for the remainder of the words he has for him. "Besides, it's no competition." A one shouldered cocky shrug rolls on his comment of lengths. Quiet follows that as he does what he's supposed to do when he's here- looking at the newly lain eggs and the dam and sire accompanying them. "Sounds like you're feeling better with all that sleep and food and-" He waves a hand, "whatever other luxuries you were after." As if food is hardly a rational request.

"High Reaches' duties, Lilah," Farideh replies, with a tentative smile that encompasses Fort's junior, and to a lesser degree, the bronzerider she's been arguing with. "We begged J'vain to bring us when we heard-- it's almost as big as Niahvth's was, and maybe a gold egg too? It's a lovely looking clutch, I think." She tries on a wider, brighter smile, and tips her head towards the sands, where the gold and bronze are shifting things around. "Pass on our congratulations? Roszadyth would have loved to come and see, herself, but--" ''Between'' is not yet conquered.

"It is lovely, yes; Eliyaveith will be glad enough to hear that and your congratulations," Lilah agrees, though her dark gaze only draws over Farideh in a study that remains neutral in the face of her smile. Before she presses at the open wound, there, the one that other weyrling already noted, "But that gold egg is warped, isn't it? How lovely can it be, really?" There is a hint of a challenge there for the political front of Farideh's manners, one brow curving upwards slightly on the part of the junior weyrwoman as she watches the goldrider.

When the last drop of water falls from the rag, Rasaid speads it out over the seat next to him. Bucket, scrub, and man all scoot back and after dunking the brush into the water, Rasaid applies it to the ground again. Kaelige's attempt at conversation is met with a heavy grunt that could mean all manner of things. Probably "Buzz off kid" is the most accurate though.

"Even something flawed can be lovely," C'stian points out to Lilah in answer to her query about the slightly misshapen gold egg; his tone is one of slightly wearied exasperation verging towards anger. "After all, look at you." The words are out of his mouth before the bronzerider actually fully realizes he's not managed to sit on the lid to his temper and snark, for a change. There's a moment where his expression is best described as 'did I actually just say that?' and then turns to something approaching resignation.

Kaelige doesn't seem to be affected by the turn as perhaps he was already 'done' with the altercation. Granted, it's to Rasaid's better judgement that he doesn't give the younger candidate anything else to goad him with. And for now it seems to work as the teen dips his head, touching thumb and forefinger to the peek of his hood to tug it down out of habit over necessity. Whatever expression he has now goes unseen, as his other hand pushes him away the railing. It comes with a sketchy bow of sorts, pseudo-gentlemanly pose is curt before far better placed footing takes him around Rasaid and back into the tunnels. Back into the crowds which he dissolves into.

Mild surprise widens Farideh's eyes before she contains it, pulling her chin down and studying Lilah's face. "Not ''everything'' can be ''perfect''. Just because the outside might be described as ''flawed'' doesn't mean what's inside is. She might be the loveliest gold ever shelled or--" Her head snaps to the side, to C'stian, her horror plain on her face; she even stares for an unseemly amount of time, at a loss for words. When she ''does'' speak up again, it's with a great hold on her anger, a bit of which -- the forced neutrality -- leaks into her words. "I hope you did not mean that."

There is interest on Lilah's part for Farideh's answer, as if she might have said what she did ''just'' to see how the young weyrling would react. But then, of course, C'stian speaks up before the young woman has a chance to finish speaking, before the weyrwoman has any chance to respond to ''that''. Her own emotions aren't betrayed so easily on her expression, shuttering down to cold steel behind dark eyes as she glances to the eggs on the sands instead of C'stian. "No, he did," she'll confirm for him blandly. "Because he likes to think that he knows ''anything'' about me. And I hope that when Roszadyth rises, she makes a better choice for you." No comment, at least, on whether she will rise first or not, but the way she watches Farideh as she says it--.

It is probably all for the best that Kaelige decides to duck out when he does. Fights in the galleries are such nasty business. Rasaid's steady progress brings him to the edge of the row and he moves himself and all his cleaning supplies up one step, as if completely unaware of the fighting words getting tossed out there. Don't mind him. Just cleaning the floor. A wrinkle of his forehead as he hits upon a particularly bad stain. Muscles ripple under his shirt as he applies himself to the scrubbing, the sound loud against the otherwise quiet.

For a moment -- just a moment -- it looks like C'stian might apologize for snapping. But then Lilah replies, and he just rubs at his face and makes a noise of frustration. "If you want to see people who think they know another person," he finally retorts to the Fortian goldrider, "look in a sharding mirror. You've spent HOW much time doing nothing but criticize my every action? I came into this determined to try to patch up the friendship I thought we once had. I should thank you, really; you've shown me there's no point. And there's sure as hell no /desire/ on your side. You needled me over how I should yell more often, speak my mind more openly, instead of trying to calm conflicts and soothe people." He laughs, mirthless, spreading his arms. "Well, welcome to open speech, Lilah! Congratulations, you win!" And then, shaking his head, he gathers up his mug of klah and starts towards the exit. He, it seems, is prepared to make the departure this time.

Appropriately, given the vehemence and the continued arguing, Farideh takes a step back. She chooses not to say anything, not to Lilah nor C'stian; it is ''their'' battle to fight, after all, even if she's been a spectator to it all, with the rest of the galleries. About the time the bronzerider walks off, J'vain rises and gestures to his wayward charge, who purses her lips in dissatisfaction. "I think I picked a bad time to come. I am sorry. I will come again-- maybe, when the eggs hatch?" She opens her mouth to say something else, closes it, and folds her hands together. "I'm not sure what's going on between-- you and-- but you should listen at least to his reassurances about the egg." A thin smile follows her words, and a respectful nod, fingers touching her shoulder, before she moves towards the stairs, walking towards the exit that the other weyrlings have already disappeared through.
|Categories=Search Logs
}}

Logs:Fighting Words

2015-06-07T00:43:16Z

Rasaid:

{{Log
|who=Farideh, Rasaid, C'stian{{!}}Liesanth, Lilah{{!}}Eliyaveith, Kaelige
|what=Attempts are made to repair friendships, but they fail, spectacularly.
|where=Galleries, Fort Weyr
|involves=Fort Weyr
|day=4
|month=13
|turn=32
|IP=Interval
|IP2=10
|gamedate=2015.06.06
|quote="Even something flawed can be lovely... After all, look at you."
|type=Log
|icons-new=Icon farideh.png, Icon lilah.png, Icon Kaelige.jpg, Icon rasaid.jpg,
|log=The noise of multiple teenaged, chattering weyrlings comes first, followed swiftly by the weyrlings themselves, complete with the ever-watchful J'vain herding them up into the galleries. They move towards the middle of the spectators' tiers, shuffling in one by one with the assistant weyrlingmaster on the outside. It's Farideh on the other end, wearing a brightly enthused expression and her riding leathers, and only half-listening to the two greenriders on her right. She leans forward, forearms braced on her bent knees, to stare wide-eyed at the fifteen colorful eggs on Fort's golden sands; her mouth might even be hanging open a little in awe. But overall, High Reaches' weyrlings seem more interested in chatting about the myriad people in the galleries than the healthy clutch down below.

It is in the back tiers of the galleries that the junior weyrwoman can be found, not the expected front row or on the sands with her queen, and perhaps that is why she goes overlooked by most that filter in and out of the galleries during the day. Or perhaps because she has her nose buried in hidework rather than paying much attention to what is going on around her, though her gaze does flick upwards at that invasion of the galleries by the weyrlings, there. It is enough to bring Eliyaveith's attention around to the group intently as well, only nudging at her mate at her side demandingly before she stretches to her feet, finally. The eggs are all buried in the middle of the sands, none yet rearranged into any particular order or preference. Even that gold one is buried so that it almost tilts against one of those brighter eggs, one of the ones with colorful hues lined in white.

Cleaning. Legit reason to be here. Rasaid hefts a bucket up the first flight of stares, moving slowly and carefully soas not to slop an of the droplets over the side. Rags that have seen more than their fair share of use hang over his shoulder just waiting to be employed. His face is impassive, and eyes fixed on the chore, and not on the eggs behind. It's like he doesn't even notice there's something unusual there. On the second tier he stops, and sets the bucket down. Reaching into the water he fishes out a scrub brush and kneels to apply it to the floor firmly.

The bronze gets to his feet as well, nuzzling the queen for a moment before twisting to gaze at the eggs intently. It's around this time that his rider enters as well, bearing a tray with two mugs of klah, and a platter of various baked goods. C'stian glances around the galleries, and -- upon spotting Lilah -- heads that way with the tray. "Weyrwoman," he greets politely, as he places the tray on the benches beside her. The presence of gawkers, come to see the eggs, perhaps encourages civility.

Giggles follow the movements of dam and sire, but those sounds are hushed by J'vain, coupled with a reminder to be quiet and respectful of the foreign queen. "I'm glad ''I'' don't have to scrub any floors," comes the snicker from one of the blueriding weyrlings, while another remarks, "Do you think that's ''really'' a gold egg? Roszadyth's egg didn't look so-- so--" Farideh, by then, is making a face down the line. Teenagers, how embarrassing, amirite? "We're supposed to be ''looking'' at the eggs, not making fun of everyone and everything. They'll never let us back," one of the greenriders whines. They are a lovely bunch, to be true. Standing, Farideh gives J'vain a nod and ambles across the row, to the stairs, before plodding her way down to the railing, where she can pretend she's not with Larry, Curly, and Moe up there.

The gesture goes unwelcomed for the moment by the goldrider, her gaze drawn and held onto those weyrlings as the drifts of their remarks make it to the tiers above them. C'stian, likely, can read the flicker of annoyance by now in dark eyes, for all that for once it isn't aimed at him. Luckily for the weyrlings, the wingsecond's presence does eventually break through, bring her attention back to him. "C'stian," she actually offers, glancing briefly at the tray before looking back towards the weyrlings. Eliyaveith, at least, seems to be ignoring them, though the way she is now studying her own eggs seems to hold a worry of its own, perhaps just a coincidence on the heels of the weyrling's remark about the gold. But then the queen is moving forward to gently bump one of her eggs out of its depression in the sands.

Head bent to his task one could almost think that Rasaid is completely out of touch with what is going on in the rest of the galleries. But no. Because once he scrubs an arms length worth of floor he stands, turns, and repositions himself so that there is no one who could be behind him. (No one present.) Dipping a rag into the bucket he kneels on the floor again and goes over the scrubbed portion, wringing out the rag when done. Rinse. Repeat.

Liesanth watches Eliyaveith nudge an egg, and then positions himself a short distance away. The bronze begins to excavate a hole in the sands, though pauses periodically to glance over at Eliyaveith, either to examine the egg she's looking at, or perhaps to seek her approval. C'stian, meanwhile, takes one of the mugs of klah and then moves towards the railing; once there, the Hematite wingsecond seems to divide his attention between the weyrlings and the dragons on the sand. "Most weyrlings aren't exactly known for holding their tongues," he points out, a little wryly, towards the greenrider.

Kaelige intends his visit to be brief. He intends not to make much contact. He could have waited until the eggs had been on the Sands awhile, and for less on-lookers to be gathered. But his curiosity has already proven stronger at times than his good sense. Hooded figure drifts in from the tunnels below that empty into the tiers of the galleries. Amidst a crowd, he detaches himself to slow his already not-hastened pace as he nears a clearer section of railing to turn his bluegreens out over the sands from beneath his hooded shadow. But he can't be anywhere without causing a problem, and as he notices Rasaid actually doing work, he can't help but interrupt it. An 'accidental' step sorta-meaning to go over the bucket knocks it almost ''almost'' over to spill the sudsy content everywhere. But, he's not that mean. Right? "Sorry." The faked apology coincides with a dark chuckle.

Three sets of eyes lift to the bronzerider, three faces showing guilt. They quickly lowers their voices, muttering between themselves, and noticeably quiet enough as to inform the whole of the galleries about whatever subjects they're discussing. Farideh makes it to the railing just in time to see Kaelige ''knock'' over Rasaid's bucket of water. She frowns, one hand on the railing, but remains silent for the time being, if with disapproval written all over her face, for the hooded-candidate.

Eliyaveith rolls that egg carefully into the hole that Liesanth has made, burying sand around it carefully as she does so before the large queen is lumbering off to focus on the next one. Even as those weyrlings show that guilt, it is Lilah who stands up in her tier as she catches C'stan's words. Except, the lift of her voice over the galleries is directed to ''him'', despite the very public nature of where they are and who is around, as she challenges, "And you would rather make ''jokes'' about it than to ''say'' anything, right? Because ''that'' would mean doing something about it before they upset ''either'' of our dragons."

So far Rasaid has moved slowly, feeling his way for new surroundings with an eye of quiet caution. But some of that illusion shatters when he shoots out his hand to catch the bucket before it can overturn itself with Kaelige's help. Dirty water still slops over from its side, reaching for Rasaid's legs to wet them completely. His hands curl against the bucket as his dark eyes track upwards, the barest flicker of anger in them. But... oh, the dulcent tones of someone in authority. "Later kid." The muttered promise is just for Kaelige's ears.

There might be a brief moment where C'stian's gaze is cast upwards, as if begging Faranth's spirit for strength. "No," he replies to Lilah. His tone is calm, but he speaks slowly and perhaps his jaw is a bit tense. "Because a light joke might make them realize /without/ having to lecture or yell. Which /would/ upset our dragons." His dragon, meanwhile, shows no signs of being upset; Liesanth makes his way over to another spot and begins to excavate another hole for his mate's ongoing efforts.

If Kaelige is aware of the scrutiny from the weyrling goldrider, he doesn't seem to care. He does cast a look over his shoulder, though, just behind the rim of that hood of his. Gaze trails across those he recognizes, and then down at his 'fellow' candidate. The drawn authority in the young man's voice drawns a wider smirk, a playful if instigating narrowing of his eyes. "That floor that important to you?" He presses against the promise of 'later', his gloved palms turning up in both question and innocence as he shrugs. But he's not going to push his luck too far. It wouldn't be the first time he got kicked out of the galleries if he did. He places that booted foot down and then continues on to stand against the railing nearby without further intruding on Rasaid's chore.

The goldrider might well rue the day she decided to step foot in Fort's galleries, for two altercations in one short time span, but Lilah and C'stian's public spat is enough to pull her focus from the two younger men. Farideh looks confused for a short second, and then flicks a puzzled glance to J'vain, who shrugs his shoulders indifferently. She releases the railing and moves to the stairs, taking them two at a time until she's closer to the other goldrider. Her voice is a bit tremulous, but beseeching, "Lilah?"

It seems like that is a common theme with anyone who enters Fort's galleries; but at least the public spat between the junior weyrwoman and the Hematite wingsecond doesn't continue further beyond that. Lilah's gaze narrows on C'stian for a moment, but it's pulled away at Farideh's approach. The younger goldrider may even catch the subtle draw of air into the woman's lungs as she forces herself to let it go, before she greets, "Farideh. Fort's duties." She even gestures to a spot on the bench next to her before she sits back down.

At least the altercation between the candidates is a quiet one. Very quiet. Rasaid moves the bucket just slightly away from Kaelige, and props his heavy frame up on his kees. He keeps his tone low, even, helped along by his naturally deep voice. "Kid." Very slowly. "Don't know what makes you think you got to prove your dick length to me, but you need to get it clear. I. don't. care." Purposefully Rasaid wrings out the towel, eyes fixed on Kaelige, applying more force to the effort than is strictly necessary. His muscles weren't built up recently. They're a thing he's got well in hand.

Perhaps luckily for Kaelige, the quiet nature of the candidate confrontation and the fact that he's distracted by arguing with Lilah keeps C'stian from noticing that particular little altercation. When Lilah doesn't push it further, however, he pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a moment to recover his composure. He does, however, apparently just abandon the pastries as tribute to the goldriders, turning his attention intead to the dragons on the sand.

"You care enough to talk to me." Kaelige's grin doesn't lose any of its smugness as he leans his arms over the railing for the moment, if only to buy him reasonable time to talk to Rasaid without looking like he means to stay long. He doesn't even look at the older candidate for the remainder of the words he has for him. "Besides, it's no competition." A one shouldered cocky shrug rolls on his comment of lengths. Quiet follows that as he does what he's supposed to do when he's here- looking at the newly lain eggs and the dam and sire accompanying them. "Sounds like you're feeling better with all that sleep and food and-" He waves a hand, "whatever other luxuries you were after." As if food is hardly a rational request.

"High Reaches' duties, Lilah," Farideh replies, with a tentative smile that encompasses Fort's junior, and to a lesser degree, the bronzerider she's been arguing with. "We begged J'vain to bring us when we heard-- it's almost as big as Niahvth's was, and maybe a gold egg too? It's a lovely looking clutch, I think." She tries on a wider, brighter smile, and tips her head towards the sands, where the gold and bronze are shifting things around. "Pass on our congratulations? Roszadyth would have loved to come and see, herself, but--" ''Between'' is not yet conquered.

"It is lovely, yes; Eliyaveith will be glad enough to hear that and your congratulations," Lilah agrees, though her dark gaze only draws over Farideh in a study that remains neutral in the face of her smile. Before she presses at the open wound, there, the one that other weyrling already noted, "But that gold egg is warped, isn't it? How lovely can it be, really?" There is a hint of a challenge there for the political front of Farideh's manners, one brow curving upwards slightly on the part of the junior weyrwoman as she watches the goldrider.

When the last drop of water falls from the rag, Rasaid speads it out over the seat next to him. Bucket, scrub, and man all scoot back and after dunking the brush into the water, Rasaid applies it to the ground again. Kaelige's attempt at conversation is met with a heavy grunt that could mean all manner of things. Probably "Buzz off kid" is the most accurate though.

"Even something flawed can be lovely," C'stian points out to Lilah in answer to her query about the slightly misshapen gold egg; his tone is one of slightly wearied exasperation verging towards anger. "After all, look at you." The words are out of his mouth before the bronzerider actually fully realizes he's not managed to sit on the lid to his temper and snark, for a change. There's a moment where his expression is best described as 'did I actually just say that?' and then turns to something approaching resignation.

Kaelige doesn't seem to be affected by the turn as perhaps he was already 'done' with the altercation. Granted, it's to Rasaid's better judgement that he doesn't give the younger candidate anything else to goad him with. And for now it seems to work as the teen dips his head, touching thumb and forefinger to the peek of his hood to tug it down out of habit over necessity. Whatever expression he has now goes unseen, as his other hand pushes him away the railing. It comes with a sketchy bow of sorts, pseudo-gentlemanly pose is curt before far better placed footing takes him around Rasaid and back into the tunnels. Back into the crowds which he dissolves into.

Mild surprise widens Farideh's eyes before she contains it, pulling her chin down and studying Lilah's face. "Not ''everything'' can be ''perfect''. Just because the outside might be described as ''flawed'' doesn't mean what's inside is. She might be the loveliest gold ever shelled or--" Her head snaps to the side, to C'stian, her horror plain on her face; she even stares for an unseemly amount of time, at a loss for words. When she ''does'' speak up again, it's with a great hold on her anger, a bit of which -- the forced neutrality -- leaks into her words. "I hope you did not mean that."

There is interest on Lilah's part for Farideh's answer, as if she might have said what she did ''just'' to see how the young weyrling would react. But then, of course, C'stian speaks up before the young woman has a chance to finish speaking, before the weyrwoman has any chance to respond to ''that''. Her own emotions aren't betrayed so easily on her expression, shuttering down to cold steel behind dark eyes as she glances to the eggs on the sands instead of C'stian. "No, he did," she'll confirm for him blandly. "Because he likes to think that he knows ''anything'' about me. And I hope that when Roszadyth rises, she makes a better choice for you." No comment, at least, on whether she will rise first or not, but the way she watches Farideh as she says it--.

It is probably all for the best that Kaelige decides to duck out when he does. Fights in the galleries are such nasty business. Rasaid's steady progress brings him to the edge of the row and he moves himself and all his cleaning supplies up one step, as if completely unaware of the fighting words getting tossed out there. Don't mind him. Just cleaning the floor. A wrinkle of his forehead as he hits upon a particularly bad stain. Muscles ripple under his shirt as he applies himself to the scrubbing, the sound loud against the otherwise quiet.

For a moment -- just a moment -- it looks like C'stian might apologize for snapping. But then Lilah replies, and he just rubs at his face and makes a noise of frustration. "If you want to see people who think they know another person," he finally retorts to the Fortian goldrider, "look in a sharding mirror. You've spent HOW much time doing nothing but criticize my every action? I came into this determined to try to patch up the friendship I thought we once had. I should thank you, really; you've shown me there's no point. And there's sure as hell no /desire/ on your side. You needled me over how I should yell more often, speak my mind more openly, instead of trying to calm conflicts and soothe people." He laughs, mirthless, spreading his arms. "Well, welcome to open speech, Lilah! Congratulations, you win!" And then, shaking his head, he gathers up his mug of klah and starts towards the exit. He, it seems, is prepared to make the departure this time.

Appropriately, given the vehemence and the continued arguing, Farideh takes a step back. She chooses not to say anything, not to Lilah nor C'stian; it is ''their'' battle to fight, after all, even if she's been a spectator to it all, with the rest of the galleries. About the time the bronzerider walks off, J'vain rises and gestures to his wayward charge, who purses her lips in dissatisfaction. "I think I picked a bad time to come. I am sorry. I will come again-- maybe, when the eggs hatch?" She opens her mouth to say something else, closes it, and folds her hands together. "I'm not sure what's going on between-- you and-- but you should listen at least to his reassurances about the egg." A thin smile follows her words, and a respectful nod, fingers touching her shoulder, before she moves towards the stairs, walking towards the exit that the other weyrlings have already disappeared through.
|Categories=Search Logs
}}

Rasaid

2015-06-07T00:36:00Z

Rasaid:

{{Profile
|picture=rasaid.jpg
|mother=Holder, name unknown
|father=Holder, name unknown
|siblings=3, names undisclosed
|children=None
|friends=None
|body={{wysk}}

==Description==
The faintest hint of curl peaks out of brown hair that seems to have been allowed to grow just slightly too long. It rests over an oval face with a scruffy beard that looks less than well cared for. Years of sunlight give this young man a deep tan, but without the wrinkles of age. Slightly heavy-set, Rasaid is shorter than the average man, but broad and steady, his shoulders looking slightly bull-like. He is no stranger to hard work as his hands bear the marks of hard work. Nothing is particularly striking about Rasiad, except for dark brown-almost black eyes that hint at inner demons.

== RP Logs ==

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

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{{Character-Categories}}

Rasaid

2015-06-07T00:33:55Z

Rasaid:

{{Profile
|picture=rasaid
|mother=Holder, name unknown
|father=Holder, name unknown
|siblings=3, names undisclosed
|children=None
|friends=None
|body={{wysk}}

== RP Logs ==

{{NewLogs |name={{BASEPAGENAME}}}}

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

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

{{Icons}}
}}
{{Character-Categories}}

File:Rasaid.jpg

2015-06-07T00:31:11Z

Rasaid:

File:Icon rasaid fighting.jpg

2015-06-07T00:31:11Z

Rasaid:

File:Icon rasaid huh.jpg

2015-06-07T00:31:11Z

Rasaid:

File:Icon rasaid really.jpg

2015-06-07T00:31:11Z

Rasaid:

File:Icon rasaid.jpg

2015-06-07T00:31:11Z

Rasaid:

File:Ion rasaid working.jpg

2015-06-07T00:31:11Z

Rasaid:

File:Icon rasaid cantbelieve.jpg

2015-06-07T00:31:10Z

Rasaid:

Logs:Fighting Words

2015-06-06T23:58:55Z

Rasaid:

{{Log
|who=Farideh, Rasaid, C'stian{{!}}Liesanth, Lilah{{!}}Eliyaveith, Kaelige
|what=Attempts are made to repair friendships, but they fail, spectacularly.
|where=Galleries, Fort Weyr
|involves=Fort Weyr
|day=4
|month=13
|turn=32
|IP=Interval
|IP2=10
|gamedate=2015.06.06
|quote="Even something flawed can be lovely... After all, look at you."
|type=Log
|icons-new=Icon farideh.png, Icon lilah.png, Icon Kaelige.jpg,
|log=The noise of multiple teenaged, chattering weyrlings comes first, followed swiftly by the weyrlings themselves, complete with the ever-watchful J'vain herding them up into the galleries. They move towards the middle of the spectators' tiers, shuffling in one by one with the assistant weyrlingmaster on the outside. It's Farideh on the other end, wearing a brightly enthused expression and her riding leathers, and only half-listening to the two greenriders on her right. She leans forward, forearms braced on her bent knees, to stare wide-eyed at the fifteen colorful eggs on Fort's golden sands; her mouth might even be hanging open a little in awe. But overall, High Reaches' weyrlings seem more interested in chatting about the myriad people in the galleries than the healthy clutch down below.

It is in the back tiers of the galleries that the junior weyrwoman can be found, not the expected front row or on the sands with her queen, and perhaps that is why she goes overlooked by most that filter in and out of the galleries during the day. Or perhaps because she has her nose buried in hidework rather than paying much attention to what is going on around her, though her gaze does flick upwards at that invasion of the galleries by the weyrlings, there. It is enough to bring Eliyaveith's attention around to the group intently as well, only nudging at her mate at her side demandingly before she stretches to her feet, finally. The eggs are all buried in the middle of the sands, none yet rearranged into any particular order or preference. Even that gold one is buried so that it almost tilts against one of those brighter eggs, one of the ones with colorful hues lined in white.

Cleaning. Legit reason to be here. Rasaid hefts a bucket up the first flight of stares, moving slowly and carefully soas not to slop an of the droplets over the side. Rags that have seen more than their fair share of use hang over his shoulder just waiting to be employed. His face is impassive, and eyes fixed on the chore, and not on the eggs behind. It's like he doesn't even notice there's something unusual there. On the second tier he stops, and sets the bucket down. Reaching into the water he fishes out a scrub brush and kneels to apply it to the floor firmly.

The bronze gets to his feet as well, nuzzling the queen for a moment before twisting to gaze at the eggs intently. It's around this time that his rider enters as well, bearing a tray with two mugs of klah, and a platter of various baked goods. C'stian glances around the galleries, and -- upon spotting Lilah -- heads that way with the tray. "Weyrwoman," he greets politely, as he places the tray on the benches beside her. The presence of gawkers, come to see the eggs, perhaps encourages civility.

Giggles follow the movements of dam and sire, but those sounds are hushed by J'vain, coupled with a reminder to be quiet and respectful of the foreign queen. "I'm glad ''I'' don't have to scrub any floors," comes the snicker from one of the blueriding weyrlings, while another remarks, "Do you think that's ''really'' a gold egg? Roszadyth's egg didn't look so-- so--" Farideh, by then, is making a face down the line. Teenagers, how embarrassing, amirite? "We're supposed to be ''looking'' at the eggs, not making fun of everyone and everything. They'll never let us back," one of the greenriders whines. They are a lovely bunch, to be true. Standing, Farideh gives J'vain a nod and ambles across the row, to the stairs, before plodding her way down to the railing, where she can pretend she's not with Larry, Curly, and Moe up there.

The gesture goes unwelcomed for the moment by the goldrider, her gaze drawn and held onto those weyrlings as the drifts of their remarks make it to the tiers above them. C'stian, likely, can read the flicker of annoyance by now in dark eyes, for all that for once it isn't aimed at him. Luckily for the weyrlings, the wingsecond's presence does eventually break through, bring her attention back to him. "C'stian," she actually offers, glancing briefly at the tray before looking back towards the weyrlings. Eliyaveith, at least, seems to be ignoring them, though the way she is now studying her own eggs seems to hold a worry of its own, perhaps just a coincidence on the heels of the weyrling's remark about the gold. But then the queen is moving forward to gently bump one of her eggs out of its depression in the sands.

Head bent to his task one could almost think that Rasaid is completely out of touch with what is going on in the rest of the galleries. But no. Because once he scrubs an arms length worth of floor he stands, turns, and repositions himself so that there is no one who could be behind him. (No one present.) Dipping a rag into the bucket he kneels on the floor again and goes over the scrubbed portion, wringing out the rag when done. Rinse. Repeat.

Liesanth watches Eliyaveith nudge an egg, and then positions himself a short distance away. The bronze begins to excavate a hole in the sands, though pauses periodically to glance over at Eliyaveith, either to examine the egg she's looking at, or perhaps to seek her approval. C'stian, meanwhile, takes one of the mugs of klah and then moves towards the railing; once there, the Hematite wingsecond seems to divide his attention between the weyrlings and the dragons on the sand. "Most weyrlings aren't exactly known for holding their tongues," he points out, a little wryly, towards the greenrider.

Kaelige intends his visit to be brief. He intends not to make much contact. He could have waited until the eggs had been on the Sands awhile, and for less on-lookers to be gathered. But his curiosity has already proven stronger at times than his good sense. Hooded figure drifts in from the tunnels below that empty into the tiers of the galleries. Amidst a crowd, he detaches himself to slow his already not-hastened pace as he nears a clearer section of railing to turn his bluegreens out over the sands from beneath his hooded shadow. But he can't be anywhere without causing a problem, and as he notices Rasaid actually doing work, he can't help but interrupt it. An 'accidental' step sorta-meaning to go over the bucket knocks it almost ''almost'' over to spill the sudsy content everywhere. But, he's not that mean. Right? "Sorry." The faked apology coincides with a dark chuckle.

Three sets of eyes lift to the bronzerider, three faces showing guilt. They quickly lowers their voices, muttering between themselves, and noticeably quiet enough as to inform the whole of the galleries about whatever subjects they're discussing. Farideh makes it to the railing just in time to see Kaelige ''knock'' over Rasaid's bucket of water. She frowns, one hand on the railing, but remains silent for the time being, if with disapproval written all over her face, for the hooded-candidate.

Eliyaveith rolls that egg carefully into the hole that Liesanth has made, burying sand around it carefully as she does so before the large queen is lumbering off to focus on the next one. Even as those weyrlings show that guilt, it is Lilah who stands up in her tier as she catches C'stan's words. Except, the lift of her voice over the galleries is directed to ''him'', despite the very public nature of where they are and who is around, as she challenges, "And you would rather make ''jokes'' about it than to ''say'' anything, right? Because ''that'' would mean doing something about it before they upset ''either'' of our dragons."

So far Rasaid has moved slowly, feeling his way for new surroundings with an eye of quiet caution. But some of that illusion shatters when he shoots out his hand to catch the bucket before it can overturn itself with Kaelige's help. Dirty water still slops over from its side, reaching for Rasaid's legs to wet them completely. His hands curl against the bucket as his dark eyes track upwards, the barest flicker of anger in them. But... oh, the dulcent tones of someone in authority. "Later kid." The muttered promise is just for Kaelige's ears.

There might be a brief moment where C'stian's gaze is cast upwards, as if begging Faranth's spirit for strength. "No," he replies to Lilah. His tone is calm, but he speaks slowly and perhaps his jaw is a bit tense. "Because a light joke might make them realize /without/ having to lecture or yell. Which /would/ upset our dragons." His dragon, meanwhile, shows no signs of being upset; Liesanth makes his way over to another spot and begins to excavate another hole for his mate's ongoing efforts.

If Kaelige is aware of the scrutiny from the weyrling goldrider, he doesn't seem to care. He does cast a look over his shoulder, though, just behind the rim of that hood of his. Gaze trails across those he recognizes, and then down at his 'fellow' candidate. The drawn authority in the young man's voice drawns a wider smirk, a playful if instigating narrowing of his eyes. "That floor that important to you?" He presses against the promise of 'later', his gloved palms turning up in both question and innocence as he shrugs. But he's not going to push his luck too far. It wouldn't be the first time he got kicked out of the galleries if he did. He places that booted foot down and then continues on to stand against the railing nearby without further intruding on Rasaid's chore.

The goldrider might well rue the day she decided to step foot in Fort's galleries, for two altercations in one short time span, but Lilah and C'stian's public spat is enough to pull her focus from the two younger men. Farideh looks confused for a short second, and then flicks a puzzled glance to J'vain, who shrugs his shoulders indifferently. She releases the railing and moves to the stairs, taking them two at a time until she's closer to the other goldrider. Her voice is a bit tremulous, but beseeching, "Lilah?"

It seems like that is a common theme with anyone who enters Fort's galleries; but at least the public spat between the junior weyrwoman and the Hematite wingsecond doesn't continue further beyond that. Lilah's gaze narrows on C'stian for a moment, but it's pulled away at Farideh's approach. The younger goldrider may even catch the subtle draw of air into the woman's lungs as she forces herself to let it go, before she greets, "Farideh. Fort's duties." She even gestures to a spot on the bench next to her before she sits back down.

At least the altercation between the candidates is a quiet one. Very quiet. Rasaid moves the bucket just slightly away from Kaelige, and props his heavy frame up on his kees. He keeps his tone low, even, helped along by his naturally deep voice. "Kid." Very slowly. "Don't know what makes you think you got to prove your dick length to me, but you need to get it clear. I. don't. care." Purposefully Rasaid wrings out the towel, eyes fixed on Kaelige, applying more force to the effort than is strictly necessary. His muscles weren't built up recently. They're a thing he's got well in hand.

Perhaps luckily for Kaelige, the quiet nature of the candidate confrontation and the fact that he's distracted by arguing with Lilah keeps C'stian from noticing that particular little altercation. When Lilah doesn't push it further, however, he pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a moment to recover his composure. He does, however, apparently just abandon the pastries as tribute to the goldriders, turning his attention intead to the dragons on the sand.

"You care enough to talk to me." Kaelige's grin doesn't lose any of its smugness as he leans his arms over the railing for the moment, if only to buy him reasonable time to talk to Rasaid without looking like he means to stay long. He doesn't even look at the older candidate for the remainder of the words he has for him. "Besides, it's no competition." A one shouldered cocky shrug rolls on his comment of lengths. Quiet follows that as he does what he's supposed to do when he's here- looking at the newly lain eggs and the dam and sire accompanying them. "Sounds like you're feeling better with all that sleep and food and-" He waves a hand, "whatever other luxuries you were after." As if food is hardly a rational request.

"High Reaches' duties, Lilah," Farideh replies, with a tentative smile that encompasses Fort's junior, and to a lesser degree, the bronzerider she's been arguing with. "We begged J'vain to bring us when we heard-- it's almost as big as Niahvth's was, and maybe a gold egg too? It's a lovely looking clutch, I think." She tries on a wider, brighter smile, and tips her head towards the sands, where the gold and bronze are shifting things around. "Pass on our congratulations? Roszadyth would have loved to come and see, herself, but--" ''Between'' is not yet conquered.

"It is lovely, yes; Eliyaveith will be glad enough to hear that and your congratulations," Lilah agrees, though her dark gaze only draws over Farideh in a study that remains neutral in the face of her smile. Before she presses at the open wound, there, the one that other weyrling already noted, "But that gold egg is warped, isn't it? How lovely can it be, really?" There is a hint of a challenge there for the political front of Farideh's manners, one brow curving upwards slightly on the part of the junior weyrwoman as she watches the goldrider.

When the last drop of water falls from the rag, Rasaid speads it out over the seat next to him. Bucket, scrub, and man all scoot back and after dunking the brush into the water, Rasaid applies it to the ground again. Kaelige's attempt at conversation is met with a heavy grunt that could mean all manner of things. Probably "Buzz off kid" is the most accurate though.

"Even something flawed can be lovely," C'stian points out to Lilah in answer to her query about the slightly misshapen gold egg; his tone is one of slightly wearied exasperation verging towards anger. "After all, look at you." The words are out of his mouth before the bronzerider actually fully realizes he's not managed to sit on the lid to his temper and snark, for a change. There's a moment where his expression is best described as 'did I actually just say that?' and then turns to something approaching resignation.

Kaelige doesn't seem to be affected by the turn as perhaps he was already 'done' with the altercation. Granted, it's to Rasaid's better judgement that he doesn't give the younger candidate anything else to goad him with. And for now it seems to work as the teen dips his head, touching thumb and forefinger to the peek of his hood to tug it down out of habit over necessity. Whatever expression he has now goes unseen, as his other hand pushes him away the railing. It comes with a sketchy bow of sorts, pseudo-gentlemanly pose is curt before far better placed footing takes him around Rasaid and back into the tunnels. Back into the crowds which he dissolves into.

Mild surprise widens Farideh's eyes before she contains it, pulling her chin down and studying Lilah's face. "Not ''everything'' can be ''perfect''. Just because the outside might be described as ''flawed'' doesn't mean what's inside is. She might be the loveliest gold ever shelled or--" Her head snaps to the side, to C'stian, her horror plain on her face; she even stares for an unseemly amount of time, at a loss for words. When she ''does'' speak up again, it's with a great hold on her anger, a bit of which -- the forced neutrality -- leaks into her words. "I hope you did not mean that."

There is interest on Lilah's part for Farideh's answer, as if she might have said what she did ''just'' to see how the young weyrling would react. But then, of course, C'stian speaks up before the young woman has a chance to finish speaking, before the weyrwoman has any chance to respond to ''that''. Her own emotions aren't betrayed so easily on her expression, shuttering down to cold steel behind dark eyes as she glances to the eggs on the sands instead of C'stian. "No, he did," she'll confirm for him blandly. "Because he likes to think that he knows ''anything'' about me. And I hope that when Roszadyth rises, she makes a better choice for you." No comment, at least, on whether she will rise first or not, but the way she watches Farideh as she says it--.

It is probably all for the best that Kaelige decides to duck out when he does. Fights in the galleries are such nasty business. Rasaid's steady progress brings him to the edge of the row and he moves himself and all his cleaning supplies up one step, as if completely unaware of the fighting words getting tossed out there. Don't mind him. Just cleaning the floor. A wrinkle of his forehead as he hits upon a particularly bad stain. Muscles ripple under his shirt as he applies himself to the scrubbing, the sound loud against the otherwise quiet.

For a moment -- just a moment -- it looks like C'stian might apologize for snapping. But then Lilah replies, and he just rubs at his face and makes a noise of frustration. "If you want to see people who think they know another person," he finally retorts to the Fortian goldrider, "look in a sharding mirror. You've spent HOW much time doing nothing but criticize my every action? I came into this determined to try to patch up the friendship I thought we once had. I should thank you, really; you've shown me there's no point. And there's sure as hell no /desire/ on your side. You needled me over how I should yell more often, speak my mind more openly, instead of trying to calm conflicts and soothe people." He laughs, mirthless, spreading his arms. "Well, welcome to open speech, Lilah! Congratulations, you win!" And then, shaking his head, he gathers up his mug of klah and starts towards the exit. He, it seems, is prepared to make the departure this time.

Appropriately, given the vehemence and the continued arguing, Farideh takes a step back. She chooses not to say anything, not to Lilah nor C'stian; it is ''their'' battle to fight, after all, even if she's been a spectator to it all, with the rest of the galleries. About the time the bronzerider walks off, J'vain rises and gestures to his wayward charge, who purses her lips in dissatisfaction. "I think I picked a bad time to come. I am sorry. I will come again-- maybe, when the eggs hatch?" She opens her mouth to say something else, closes it, and folds her hands together. "I'm not sure what's going on between-- you and-- but you should listen at least to his reassurances about the egg." A thin smile follows her words, and a respectful nod, fingers touching her shoulder, before she moves towards the stairs, walking towards the exit that the other weyrlings have already disappeared through.
|Categories=Search Logs
}}

Logs:Fighting Words

2015-06-06T23:53:05Z

Rasaid:

{{Log
|who=Farideh, Rasaid, C'stian{{!}}Liesanth, Lilah{{!}}Eliyaveith, Kaelige
|what=Attempts are made to repair friendships, but they fail, spectacularly.
|where=Galleries, Fort Weyr
|involves=Fort Weyr
|day=4
|month=13
|turn=32
|IP=Interval
|IP2=10
|gamedate=2015.06.06
|quote="Even something flawed can be lovely... After all, look at you."
|type=Log
|log=The noise of multiple teenaged, chattering weyrlings comes first, followed swiftly by the weyrlings themselves, complete with the ever-watchful J'vain herding them up into the galleries. They move towards the middle of the spectators' tiers, shuffling in one by one with the assistant weyrlingmaster on the outside. It's Farideh on the other end, wearing a brightly enthused expression and her riding leathers, and only half-listening to the two greenriders on her right. She leans forward, forearms braced on her bent knees, to stare wide-eyed at the fifteen colorful eggs on Fort's golden sands; her mouth might even be hanging open a little in awe. But overall, High Reaches' weyrlings seem more interested in chatting about the myriad people in the galleries than the healthy clutch down below.

It is in the back tiers of the galleries that the junior weyrwoman can be found, not the expected front row or on the sands with her queen, and perhaps that is why she goes overlooked by most that filter in and out of the galleries during the day. Or perhaps because she has her nose buried in hidework rather than paying much attention to what is going on around her, though her gaze does flick upwards at that invasion of the galleries by the weyrlings, there. It is enough to bring Eliyaveith's attention around to the group intently as well, only nudging at her mate at her side demandingly before she stretches to her feet, finally. The eggs are all buried in the middle of the sands, none yet rearranged into any particular order or preference. Even that gold one is buried so that it almost tilts against one of those brighter eggs, one of the ones with colorful hues lined in white.

Cleaning. Legit reason to be here. Rasaid hefts a bucket up the first flight of stares, moving slowly and carefully soas not to slop an of the droplets over the side. Rags that have seen more than their fair share of use hang over his shoulder just waiting to be employed. His face is impassive, and eyes fixed on the chore, and not on the eggs behind. It's like he doesn't even notice there's something unusual there. On the second tier he stops, and sets the bucket down. Reaching into the water he fishes out a scrub brush and kneels to apply it to the floor firmly.

The bronze gets to his feet as well, nuzzling the queen for a moment before twisting to gaze at the eggs intently. It's around this time that his rider enters as well, bearing a tray with two mugs of klah, and a platter of various baked goods. C'stian glances around the galleries, and -- upon spotting Lilah -- heads that way with the tray. "Weyrwoman," he greets politely, as he places the tray on the benches beside her. The presence of gawkers, come to see the eggs, perhaps encourages civility.

Giggles follow the movements of dam and sire, but those sounds are hushed by J'vain, coupled with a reminder to be quiet and respectful of the foreign queen. "I'm glad ''I'' don't have to scrub any floors," comes the snicker from one of the blueriding weyrlings, while another remarks, "Do you think that's ''really'' a gold egg? Roszadyth's egg didn't look so-- so--" Farideh, by then, is making a face down the line. Teenagers, how embarrassing, amirite? "We're supposed to be ''looking'' at the eggs, not making fun of everyone and everything. They'll never let us back," one of the greenriders whines. They are a lovely bunch, to be true. Standing, Farideh gives J'vain a nod and ambles across the row, to the stairs, before plodding her way down to the railing, where she can pretend she's not with Larry, Curly, and Moe up there.

The gesture goes unwelcomed for the moment by the goldrider, her gaze drawn and held onto those weyrlings as the drifts of their remarks make it to the tiers above them. C'stian, likely, can read the flicker of annoyance by now in dark eyes, for all that for once it isn't aimed at him. Luckily for the weyrlings, the wingsecond's presence does eventually break through, bring her attention back to him. "C'stian," she actually offers, glancing briefly at the tray before looking back towards the weyrlings. Eliyaveith, at least, seems to be ignoring them, though the way she is now studying her own eggs seems to hold a worry of its own, perhaps just a coincidence on the heels of the weyrling's remark about the gold. But then the queen is moving forward to gently bump one of her eggs out of its depression in the sands.

Head bent to his task one could almost think that Rasaid is completely out of touch with what is going on in the rest of the galleries. But no. Because once he scrubs an arms length worth of floor he stands, turns, and repositions himself so that there is no one who could be behind him. (No one present.) Dipping a rag into the bucket he kneels on the floor again and goes over the scrubbed portion, wringing out the rag when done. Rinse. Repeat.

Liesanth watches Eliyaveith nudge an egg, and then positions himself a short distance away. The bronze begins to excavate a hole in the sands, though pauses periodically to glance over at Eliyaveith, either to examine the egg she's looking at, or perhaps to seek her approval. C'stian, meanwhile, takes one of the mugs of klah and then moves towards the railing; once there, the Hematite wingsecond seems to divide his attention between the weyrlings and the dragons on the sand. "Most weyrlings aren't exactly known for holding their tongues," he points out, a little wryly, towards the greenrider.

Kaelige intends his visit to be brief. He intends not to make much contact. He could have waited until the eggs had been on the Sands awhile, and for less on-lookers to be gathered. But his curiosity has already proven stronger at times than his good sense. Hooded figure drifts in from the tunnels below that empty into the tiers of the galleries. Amidst a crowd, he detaches himself to slow his already not-hastened pace as he nears a clearer section of railing to turn his bluegreens out over the sands from beneath his hooded shadow. But he can't be anywhere without causing a problem, and as he notices Rasaid actually doing work, he can't help but interrupt it. An 'accidental' step sorta-meaning to go over the bucket knocks it almost ''almost'' over to spill the sudsy content everywhere. But, he's not that mean. Right? "Sorry." The faked apology coincides with a dark chuckle.

Three sets of eyes lift to the bronzerider, three faces showing guilt. They quickly lowers their voices, muttering between themselves, and noticeably quiet enough as to inform the whole of the galleries about whatever subjects they're discussing. Farideh makes it to the railing just in time to see Kaelige ''knock'' over Rasaid's bucket of water. She frowns, one hand on the railing, but remains silent for the time being, if with disapproval written all over her face, for the hooded-candidate.

Eliyaveith rolls that egg carefully into the hole that Liesanth has made, burying sand around it carefully as she does so before the large queen is lumbering off to focus on the next one. Even as those weyrlings show that guilt, it is Lilah who stands up in her tier as she catches C'stan's words. Except, the lift of her voice over the galleries is directed to ''him'', despite the very public nature of where they are and who is around, as she challenges, "And you would rather make ''jokes'' about it than to ''say'' anything, right? Because ''that'' would mean doing something about it before they upset ''either'' of our dragons."

So far Rasaid has moved slowly, feeling his way for new surroundings with an eye of quiet caution. But some of that illusion shatters when he shoots out his hand to catch the bucket before it can overturn itself with Kaelige's help. Dirty water still slops over from its side, reaching for Rasaid's legs to wet them completely. His hands curl against the bucket as his dark eyes track upwards, the barest flicker of anger in them. But... oh, the dulcent tones of someone in authority. "Later kid." The muttered promise is just for Kaelige's ears.

There might be a brief moment where C'stian's gaze is cast upwards, as if begging Faranth's spirit for strength. "No," he replies to Lilah. His tone is calm, but he speaks slowly and perhaps his jaw is a bit tense. "Because a light joke might make them realize /without/ having to lecture or yell. Which /would/ upset our dragons." His dragon, meanwhile, shows no signs of being upset; Liesanth makes his way over to another spot and begins to excavate another hole for his mate's ongoing efforts.

If Kaelige is aware of the scrutiny from the weyrling goldrider, he doesn't seem to care. He does cast a look over his shoulder, though, just behind the rim of that hood of his. Gaze trails across those he recognizes, and then down at his 'fellow' candidate. The drawn authority in the young man's voice drawns a wider smirk, a playful if instigating narrowing of his eyes. "That floor that important to you?" He presses against the promise of 'later', his gloved palms turning up in both question and innocence as he shrugs. But he's not going to push his luck too far. It wouldn't be the first time he got kicked out of the galleries if he did. He places that booted foot down and then continues on to stand against the railing nearby without further intruding on Rasaid's chore.

The goldrider might well rue the day she decided to step foot in Fort's galleries, for two altercations in one short time span, but Lilah and C'stian's public spat is enough to pull her focus from the two younger men. Farideh looks confused for a short second, and then flicks a puzzled glance to J'vain, who shrugs his shoulders indifferently. She releases the railing and moves to the stairs, taking them two at a time until she's closer to the other goldrider. Her voice is a bit tremulous, but beseeching, "Lilah?"

It seems like that is a common theme with anyone who enters Fort's galleries; but at least the public spat between the junior weyrwoman and the Hematite wingsecond doesn't continue further beyond that. Lilah's gaze narrows on C'stian for a moment, but it's pulled away at Farideh's approach. The younger goldrider may even catch the subtle draw of air into the woman's lungs as she forces herself to let it go, before she greets, "Farideh. Fort's duties." She even gestures to a spot on the bench next to her before she sits back down.

At least the altercation between the candidates is a quiet one. Very quiet. Rasaid moves the bucket just slightly away from Kaelige, and props his heavy frame up on his kees. He keeps his tone low, even, helped along by his naturally deep voice. "Kid." Very slowly. "Don't know what makes you think you got to prove your dick length to me, but you need to get it clear. I. don't. care." Purposefully Rasaid wrings out the towel, eyes fixed on Kaelige, applying more force to the effort than is strictly necessary. His muscles weren't built up recently. They're a thing he's got well in hand.

Perhaps luckily for Kaelige, the quiet nature of the candidate confrontation and the fact that he's distracted by arguing with Lilah keeps C'stian from noticing that particular little altercation. When Lilah doesn't push it further, however, he pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a moment to recover his composure. He does, however, apparently just abandon the pastries as tribute to the goldriders, turning his attention intead to the dragons on the sand.

"You care enough to talk to me." Kaelige's grin doesn't lose any of its smugness as he leans his arms over the railing for the moment, if only to buy him reasonable time to talk to Rasaid without looking like he means to stay long. He doesn't even look at the older candidate for the remainder of the words he has for him. "Besides, it's no competition." A one shouldered cocky shrug rolls on his comment of lengths. Quiet follows that as he does what he's supposed to do when he's here- looking at the newly lain eggs and the dam and sire accompanying them. "Sounds like you're feeling better with all that sleep and food and-" He waves a hand, "whatever other luxuries you were after." As if food is hardly a rational request.

"High Reaches' duties, Lilah," Farideh replies, with a tentative smile that encompasses Fort's junior, and to a lesser degree, the bronzerider she's been arguing with. "We begged J'vain to bring us when we heard-- it's almost as big as Niahvth's was, and maybe a gold egg too? It's a lovely looking clutch, I think." She tries on a wider, brighter smile, and tips her head towards the sands, where the gold and bronze are shifting things around. "Pass on our congratulations? Roszadyth would have loved to come and see, herself, but--" ''Between'' is not yet conquered.

"It is lovely, yes; Eliyaveith will be glad enough to hear that and your congratulations," Lilah agrees, though her dark gaze only draws over Farideh in a study that remains neutral in the face of her smile. Before she presses at the open wound, there, the one that other weyrling already noted, "But that gold egg is warped, isn't it? How lovely can it be, really?" There is a hint of a challenge there for the political front of Farideh's manners, one brow curving upwards slightly on the part of the junior weyrwoman as she watches the goldrider.

When the last drop of water falls from the rag, Rasaid speads it out over the seat next to him. Bucket, scrub, and man all scoot back and after dunking the brush into the water, Rasaid applies it to the ground again. Kaelige's attempt at conversation is met with a heavy grunt that could mean all manner of things. Probably "Buzz off kid" is the most accurate though.

"Even something flawed can be lovely," C'stian points out to Lilah in answer to her query about the slightly misshapen gold egg; his tone is one of slightly wearied exasperation verging towards anger. "After all, look at you." The words are out of his mouth before the bronzerider actually fully realizes he's not managed to sit on the lid to his temper and snark, for a change. There's a moment where his expression is best described as 'did I actually just say that?' and then turns to something approaching resignation.

Kaelige doesn't seem to be affected by the turn as perhaps he was already 'done' with the altercation. Granted, it's to Rasaid's better judgement that he doesn't give the younger candidate anything else to goad him with. And for now it seems to work as the teen dips his head, touching thumb and forefinger to the peek of his hood to tug it down out of habit over necessity. Whatever expression he has now goes unseen, as his other hand pushes him away the railing. It comes with a sketchy bow of sorts, pseudo-gentlemanly pose is curt before far better placed footing takes him around Rasaid and back into the tunnels. Back into the crowds which he dissolves into.

Mild surprise widens Farideh's eyes before she contains it, pulling her chin down and studying Lilah's face. "Not ''everything'' can be ''perfect''. Just because the outside might be described as ''flawed'' doesn't mean what's inside is. She might be the loveliest gold ever shelled or--" Her head snaps to the side, to C'stian, her horror plain on her face; she even stares for an unseemly amount of time, at a loss for words. When she ''does'' speak up again, it's with a great hold on her anger, a bit of which -- the forced neutrality -- leaks into her words. "I hope you did not mean that."

There is interest on Lilah's part for Farideh's answer, as if she might have said what she did ''just'' to see how the young weyrling would react. But then, of course, C'stian speaks up before the young woman has a chance to finish speaking, before the weyrwoman has any chance to respond to ''that''. Her own emotions aren't betrayed so easily on her expression, shuttering down to cold steel behind dark eyes as she glances to the eggs on the sands instead of C'stian. "No, he did," she'll confirm for him blandly. "Because he likes to think that he knows ''anything'' about me. And I hope that when Roszadyth rises, she makes a better choice for you." No comment, at least, on whether she will rise first or not, but the way she watches Farideh as she says it--.

It is probably all for the best that Kaelige decides to duck out when he does. Fights in the galleries are such nasty business. Rasaid's steady progress brings him to the edge of the row and he moves himself and all his cleaning supplies up one step, as if completely unaware of the fighting words getting tossed out there. Don't mind him. Just cleaning the floor. A wrinkle of his forehead as he hits upon a particularly bad stain. Muscles ripple under his shirt as he applies himself to the scrubbing, the sound loud against the otherwise quiet.

For a moment -- just a moment -- it looks like C'stian might apologize for snapping. But then Lilah replies, and he just rubs at his face and makes a noise of frustration. "If you want to see people who think they know another person," he finally retorts to the Fortian goldrider, "look in a sharding mirror. You've spent HOW much time doing nothing but criticize my every action? I came into this determined to try to patch up the friendship I thought we once had. I should thank you, really; you've shown me there's no point. And there's sure as hell no /desire/ on your side. You needled me over how I should yell more often, speak my mind more openly, instead of trying to calm conflicts and soothe people." He laughs, mirthless, spreading his arms. "Well, welcome to open speech, Lilah! Congratulations, you win!" And then, shaking his head, he gathers up his mug of klah and starts towards the exit. He, it seems, is prepared to make the departure this time.

Appropriately, given the vehemence and the continued arguing, Farideh takes a step back. She chooses not to say anything, not to Lilah nor C'stian; it is ''their'' battle to fight, after all, even if she's been a spectator to it all, with the rest of the galleries. About the time the bronzerider walks off, J'vain rises and gestures to his wayward charge, who purses her lips in dissatisfaction. "I think I picked a bad time to come. I am sorry. I will come again-- maybe, when the eggs hatch?" She opens her mouth to say something else, closes it, and folds her hands together. "I'm not sure what's going on between-- you and-- but you should listen at least to his reassurances about the egg." A thin smile follows her words, and a respectful nod, fingers touching her shoulder, before she moves towards the stairs, walking towards the exit that the other weyrlings have already disappeared through.
|Categories=Search Logs
}}

Logs:Fighting Words

2015-06-06T23:45:52Z

Rasaid: Created page with "{{Log |who=Farideh, Rasaid, C'stian{{!}}Liesanth, Lilah{{!}}Eliyaveith, Kaelige, |what=Attempts are made to repair friendships, but they fail, spectacularly. |where=Galleries,..."

{{Log
|who=Farideh, Rasaid, C'stian{{!}}Liesanth, Lilah{{!}}Eliyaveith, Kaelige,
|what=Attempts are made to repair friendships, but they fail, spectacularly.
|where=Galleries, Fort Weyr
|involves=Fort Weyr
|day=4
|month=13
|turn=32
|IP=Interval
|IP2=10
|gamedate=2015.06.06
|quote="Even something flawed can be lovely... After all, look at you."
|type=Log
|desc=The entrance to the Sands and Galleries alike is little more than an
archway and a section of flat stone that curves into a broad pathway in
front of the Galleries that are carved into the right-hand side of the
Hatching Cavern. This pathway is set with three flights of stairs that
lead all the way up to the upper tiers of the Galleries; one set near the
entrance of the cavern, one set at the northernmost end, and one set
between both. Beyond the pathway, that flat stone dissolves into the Sands
proper, a golden expanse that sits before the large, odd engraving that
lines the far wall -- an etching that details the rotation of the Red
Star.

The Galleries themselves are rows of flat seats carved from the stone wall
and stacked backward to allow observers the best view possible of the
golden sands. Those at the bottom are protected from wayward dragonets by
a railing, while dignitaries from outside the Weyr -- Lord Holders, other
Weyrleaders, Craftmasters and their ilk -- have a specially designated
spectator's box at the topmost row.
|log=The noise of multiple teenaged, chattering weyrlings comes first, followed swiftly by the weyrlings themselves, complete with the ever-watchful J'vain herding them up into the galleries. They move towards the middle of the spectators' tiers, shuffling in one by one with the assistant weyrlingmaster on the outside. It's Farideh on the other end, wearing a brightly enthused expression and her riding leathers, and only half-listening to the two greenriders on her right. She leans forward, forearms braced on her bent knees, to stare wide-eyed at the fifteen colorful eggs on Fort's golden sands; her mouth might even be hanging open a little in awe. But overall, High Reaches' weyrlings seem more interested in chatting about the myriad people in the galleries than the healthy clutch down below.

It is in the back tiers of the galleries that the junior weyrwoman can be found, not the expected front row or on the sands with her queen, and perhaps that is why she goes overlooked by most that filter in and out of the galleries during the day. Or perhaps because she has her nose buried in hidework rather than paying much attention to what is going on around her, though her gaze does flick upwards at that invasion of the galleries by the weyrlings, there. It is enough to bring Eliyaveith's attention around to the group intently as well, only nudging at her mate at her side demandingly before she stretches to her feet, finally. The eggs are all buried in the middle of the sands, none yet rearranged into any particular order or preference. Even that gold one is buried so that it almost tilts against one of those brighter eggs, one of the ones with colorful hues lined in white.

Cleaning. Legit reason to be here. Rasaid hefts a bucket up the first flight of stares, moving slowly and carefully soas not to slop an of the droplets over the side. Rags that have seen more than their fair share of use hang over his shoulder just waiting to be employed. His face is impassive, and eyes fixed on the chore, and not on the eggs behind. It's like he doesn't even notice there's something unusual there. On the second tier he stops, and sets the bucket down. Reaching into the water he fishes out a scrub brush and kneels to apply it to the floor firmly.

The bronze gets to his feet as well, nuzzling the queen for a moment before twisting to gaze at the eggs intently. It's around this time that his rider enters as well, bearing a tray with two mugs of klah, and a platter of various baked goods. C'stian glances around the galleries, and -- upon spotting Lilah -- heads that way with the tray. "Weyrwoman," he greets politely, as he places the tray on the benches beside her. The presence of gawkers, come to see the eggs, perhaps encourages civility.

Giggles follow the movements of dam and sire, but those sounds are hushed by J'vain, coupled with a reminder to be quiet and respectful of the foreign queen. "I'm glad ''I'' don't have to scrub any floors," comes the snicker from one of the blueriding weyrlings, while another remarks, "Do you think that's ''really'' a gold egg? Roszadyth's egg didn't look so-- so--" Farideh, by then, is making a face down the line. Teenagers, how embarrassing, amirite? "We're supposed to be ''looking'' at the eggs, not making fun of everyone and everything. They'll never let us back," one of the greenriders whines. They are a lovely bunch, to be true. Standing, Farideh gives J'vain a nod and ambles across the row, to the stairs, before plodding her way down to the railing, where she can pretend she's not with Larry, Curly, and Moe up there.

The gesture goes unwelcomed for the moment by the goldrider, her gaze drawn and held onto those weyrlings as the drifts of their remarks make it to the tiers above them. C'stian, likely, can read the flicker of annoyance by now in dark eyes, for all that for once it isn't aimed at him. Luckily for the weyrlings, the wingsecond's presence does eventually break through, bring her attention back to him. "C'stian," she actually offers, glancing briefly at the tray before looking back towards the weyrlings. Eliyaveith, at least, seems to be ignoring them, though the way she is now studying her own eggs seems to hold a worry of its own, perhaps just a coincidence on the heels of the weyrling's remark about the gold. But then the queen is moving forward to gently bump one of her eggs out of its depression in the sands.

Head bent to his task one could almost think that Rasaid is completely out of touch with what is going on in the rest of the galleries. But no. Because once he scrubs an arms length worth of floor he stands, turns, and repositions himself so that there is no one who could be behind him. (No one present.) Dipping a rag into the bucket he kneels on the floor again and goes over the scrubbed portion, wringing out the rag when done. Rinse. Repeat.

Liesanth watches Eliyaveith nudge an egg, and then positions himself a short distance away. The bronze begins to excavate a hole in the sands, though pauses periodically to glance over at Eliyaveith, either to examine the egg she's looking at, or perhaps to seek her approval. C'stian, meanwhile, takes one of the mugs of klah and then moves towards the railing; once there, the Hematite wingsecond seems to divide his attention between the weyrlings and the dragons on the sand. "Most weyrlings aren't exactly known for holding their tongues," he points out, a little wryly, towards the greenrider.

Kaelige intends his visit to be brief. He intends not to make much contact. He could have waited until the eggs had been on the Sands awhile, and for less on-lookers to be gathered. But his curiosity has already proven stronger at times than his good sense. Hooded figure drifts in from the tunnels below that empty into the tiers of the galleries. Amidst a crowd, he detaches himself to slow his already not-hastened pace as he nears a clearer section of railing to turn his bluegreens out over the sands from beneath his hooded shadow. But he can't be anywhere without causing a problem, and as he notices Rasaid actually doing work, he can't help but interrupt it. An 'accidental' step sorta-meaning to go over the bucket knocks it almost ''almost'' over to spill the sudsy content everywhere. But, he's not that mean. Right? "Sorry." The faked apology coincides with a dark chuckle.

Three sets of eyes lift to the bronzerider, three faces showing guilt. They quickly lowers their voices, muttering between themselves, and noticeably quiet enough as to inform the whole of the galleries about whatever subjects they're discussing. Farideh makes it to the railing just in time to see Kaelige ''knock'' over Rasaid's bucket of water. She frowns, one hand on the railing, but remains silent for the time being, if with disapproval written all over her face, for the hooded-candidate.

Eliyaveith rolls that egg carefully into the hole that Liesanth has made, burying sand around it carefully as she does so before the large queen is lumbering off to focus on the next one. Even as those weyrlings show that guilt, it is Lilah who stands up in her tier as she catches C'stan's words. Except, the lift of her voice over the galleries is directed to ''him'', despite the very public nature of where they are and who is around, as she challenges, "And you would rather make ''jokes'' about it than to ''say'' anything, right? Because ''that'' would mean doing something about it before they upset ''either'' of our dragons."

So far Rasaid has moved slowly, feeling his way for new surroundings with an eye of quiet caution. But some of that illusion shatters when he shoots out his hand to catch the bucket before it can overturn itself with Kaelige's help. Dirty water still slops over from its side, reaching for Rasaid's legs to wet them completely. His hands curl against the bucket as his dark eyes track upwards, the barest flicker of anger in them. But... oh, the dulcent tones of someone in authority. "Later kid." The muttered promise is just for Kaelige's ears.

There might be a brief moment where C'stian's gaze is cast upwards, as if begging Faranth's spirit for strength. "No," he replies to Lilah. His tone is calm, but he speaks slowly and perhaps his jaw is a bit tense. "Because a light joke might make them realize /without/ having to lecture or yell. Which /would/ upset our dragons." His dragon, meanwhile, shows no signs of being upset; Liesanth makes his way over to another spot and begins to excavate another hole for his mate's ongoing efforts.

If Kaelige is aware of the scrutiny from the weyrling goldrider, he doesn't seem to care. He does cast a look over his shoulder, though, just behind the rim of that hood of his. Gaze trails across those he recognizes, and then down at his 'fellow' candidate. The drawn authority in the young man's voice drawns a wider smirk, a playful if instigating narrowing of his eyes. "That floor that important to you?" He presses against the promise of 'later', his gloved palms turning up in both question and innocence as he shrugs. But he's not going to push his luck too far. It wouldn't be the first time he got kicked out of the galleries if he did. He places that booted foot down and then continues on to stand against the railing nearby without further intruding on Rasaid's chore.

The goldrider might well rue the day she decided to step foot in Fort's galleries, for two altercations in one short time span, but Lilah and C'stian's public spat is enough to pull her focus from the two younger men. Farideh looks confused for a short second, and then flicks a puzzled glance to J'vain, who shrugs his shoulders indifferently. She releases the railing and moves to the stairs, taking them two at a time until she's closer to the other goldrider. Her voice is a bit tremulous, but beseeching, "Lilah?"

It seems like that is a common theme with anyone who enters Fort's galleries; but at least the public spat between the junior weyrwoman and the Hematite wingsecond doesn't continue further beyond that. Lilah's gaze narrows on C'stian for a moment, but it's pulled away at Farideh's approach. The younger goldrider may even catch the subtle draw of air into the woman's lungs as she forces herself to let it go, before she greets, "Farideh. Fort's duties." She even gestures to a spot on the bench next to her before she sits back down.

At least the altercation between the candidates is a quiet one. Very quiet. Rasaid moves the bucket just slightly away from Kaelige, and props his heavy frame up on his kees. He keeps his tone low, even, helped along by his naturally deep voice. "Kid." Very slowly. "Don't know what makes you think you got to prove your dick length to me, but you need to get it clear. I. don't. care." Purposefully Rasaid wrings out the towel, eyes fixed on Kaelige, applying more force to the effort than is strictly necessary. His muscles weren't built up recently. They're a thing he's got well in hand.

Perhaps luckily for Kaelige, the quiet nature of the candidate confrontation and the fact that he's distracted by arguing with Lilah keeps C'stian from noticing that particular little altercation. When Lilah doesn't push it further, however, he pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a moment to recover his composure. He does, however, apparently just abandon the pastries as tribute to the goldriders, turning his attention intead to the dragons on the sand.

"You care enough to talk to me." Kaelige's grin doesn't lose any of its smugness as he leans his arms over the railing for the moment, if only to buy him reasonable time to talk to Rasaid without looking like he means to stay long. He doesn't even look at the older candidate for the remainder of the words he has for him. "Besides, it's no competition." A one shouldered cocky shrug rolls on his comment of lengths. Quiet follows that as he does what he's supposed to do when he's here- looking at the newly lain eggs and the dam and sire accompanying them. "Sounds like you're feeling better with all that sleep and food and-" He waves a hand, "whatever other luxuries you were after." As if food is hardly a rational request.

"High Reaches' duties, Lilah," Farideh replies, with a tentative smile that encompasses Fort's junior, and to a lesser degree, the bronzerider she's been arguing with. "We begged J'vain to bring us when we heard-- it's almost as big as Niahvth's was, and maybe a gold egg too? It's a lovely looking clutch, I think." She tries on a wider, brighter smile, and tips her head towards the sands, where the gold and bronze are shifting things around. "Pass on our congratulations? Roszadyth would have loved to come and see, herself, but--" ''Between'' is not yet conquered.

"It is lovely, yes; Eliyaveith will be glad enough to hear that and your congratulations," Lilah agrees, though her dark gaze only draws over Farideh in a study that remains neutral in the face of her smile. Before she presses at the open wound, there, the one that other weyrling already noted, "But that gold egg is warped, isn't it? How lovely can it be, really?" There is a hint of a challenge there for the political front of Farideh's manners, one brow curving upwards slightly on the part of the junior weyrwoman as she watches the goldrider.

When the last drop of water falls from the rag, Rasaid speads it out over the seat next to him. Bucket, scrub, and man all scoot back and after dunking the brush into the water, Rasaid applies it to the ground again. Kaelige's attempt at conversation is met with a heavy grunt that could mean all manner of things. Probably "Buzz off kid" is the most accurate though.

"Even something flawed can be lovely," C'stian points out to Lilah in answer to her query about the slightly misshapen gold egg; his tone is one of slightly wearied exasperation verging towards anger. "After all, look at you." The words are out of his mouth before the bronzerider actually fully realizes he's not managed to sit on the lid to his temper and snark, for a change. There's a moment where his expression is best described as 'did I actually just say that?' and then turns to something approaching resignation.

Kaelige doesn't seem to be affected by the turn as perhaps he was already 'done' with the altercation. Granted, it's to Rasaid's better judgement that he doesn't give the younger candidate anything else to goad him with. And for now it seems to work as the teen dips his head, touching thumb and forefinger to the peek of his hood to tug it down out of habit over necessity. Whatever expression he has now goes unseen, as his other hand pushes him away the railing. It comes with a sketchy bow of sorts, pseudo-gentlemanly pose is curt before far better placed footing takes him around Rasaid and back into the tunnels. Back into the crowds which he dissolves into.

Mild surprise widens Farideh's eyes before she contains it, pulling her chin down and studying Lilah's face. "Not ''everything'' can be ''perfect''. Just because the outside might be described as ''flawed'' doesn't mean what's inside is. She might be the loveliest gold ever shelled or--" Her head snaps to the side, to C'stian, her horror plain on her face; she even stares for an unseemly amount of time, at a loss for words. When she ''does'' speak up again, it's with a great hold on her anger, a bit of which -- the forced neutrality -- leaks into her words. "I hope you did not mean that."

There is interest on Lilah's part for Farideh's answer, as if she might have said what she did ''just'' to see how the young weyrling would react. But then, of course, C'stian speaks up before the young woman has a chance to finish speaking, before the weyrwoman has any chance to respond to ''that''. Her own emotions aren't betrayed so easily on her expression, shuttering down to cold steel behind dark eyes as she glances to the eggs on the sands instead of C'stian. "No, he did," she'll confirm for him blandly. "Because he likes to think that he knows ''anything'' about me. And I hope that when Roszadyth rises, she makes a better choice for you." No comment, at least, on whether she will rise first or not, but the way she watches Farideh as she says it--.

It is probably all for the best that Kaelige decides to duck out when he does. Fights in the galleries are such nasty business. Rasaid's steady progress brings him to the edge of the row and he moves himself and all his cleaning supplies up one step, as if completely unaware of the fighting words getting tossed out there. Don't mind him. Just cleaning the floor. A wrinkle of his forehead as he hits upon a particularly bad stain. Muscles ripple under his shirt as he applies himself to the scrubbing, the sound loud against the otherwise quiet.

For a moment -- just a moment -- it looks like C'stian might apologize for snapping. But then Lilah replies, and he just rubs at his face and makes a noise of frustration. "If you want to see people who think they know another person," he finally retorts to the Fortian goldrider, "look in a sharding mirror. You've spent HOW much time doing nothing but criticize my every action? I came into this determined to try to patch up the friendship I thought we once had. I should thank you, really; you've shown me there's no point. And there's sure as hell no /desire/ on your side. You needled me over how I should yell more often, speak my mind more openly, instead of trying to calm conflicts and soothe people." He laughs, mirthless, spreading his arms. "Well, welcome to open speech, Lilah! Congratulations, you win!" And then, shaking his head, he gathers up his mug of klah and starts towards the exit. He, it seems, is prepared to make the departure this time.

Appropriately, given the vehemence and the continued arguing, Farideh takes a step back. She chooses not to say anything, not to Lilah nor C'stian; it is ''their'' battle to fight, after all, even if she's been a spectator to it all, with the rest of the galleries. About the time the bronzerider walks off, J'vain rises and gestures to his wayward charge, who purses her lips in dissatisfaction. "I think I picked a bad time to come. I am sorry. I will come again-- maybe, when the eggs hatch?" She opens her mouth to say something else, closes it, and folds her hands together. "I'm not sure what's going on between-- you and-- but you should listen at least to his reassurances about the egg." A thin smile follows her words, and a respectful nod, fingers touching her shoulder, before she moves towards the stairs, walking towards the exit that the other weyrlings have already disappeared through.
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