NorCon MUSH - User contributions [en]

Z'ian

2013-08-02T15:05:57Z

Zian:

{{HrwProfile
|picture=z'ian2.jpg
|position= Weyrleader
|birthplace= High Reaches Hold
|craft=
|mother= Mikaela
|father= Zaren
|siblings= Malachi ( +8) / Alek (+2)
|children= Marzio (- 21) / Zaidan ( -24)
|friends=
|playedby= Bradley Cooper
|livejournal=}}

== Description ==

Z'ian is a man that looks comfortably settled into his own body. Tall with broad shoulders and an appropriate level of muscle to his body he exudes a certain level of confidence that's not cocky really, but closer to being easily capable. His hair is a tousled mess of a dirty blonde that's more often than not on the shaggy side and he's usually shaven, but sometimes he'll let a five o'clock shadow creep in and mature for a few days. The angles of his face are sharp with a strong jaw and a nose that's on the longish side. The most striking and likable features about him is probably his bright blue eyes and friendly smile that lights up his face. Otherwise he's more or less typical in appearance, leaning towards the boy-next-door look.

There's nothing write home about here. He's the type of man that dresses plainly, but practically. The High Reaches are cold, so he'll wear his fur lined riding jacket. His shirts will be long sleeved and his pants will be a dark, heavy material. His boots are also heavy and made to deal with clomping around in snowy areas.

== WYSK ==

Z'ian impressed at High Reaches Weyr in Turn 15.

He's the father to two sons from a previous weyrmate.

He's been largely against the tradition breaking that's occurred in the wake of the subsequent goldflights.

Following the exposure of the traitors N'mos and S'varis, Z'ian found himself appointed by H'kon to the Wingleadership of Boreal. This would be the second wing change in approximately a turn.

== History ==

Originally Zachrian of High Reaches Hold, he was born the youngest son to two lower class members of the hold. His mother worked as a seamstress and his father at a variety of odd jobs around the hold itself. They never had a lot of anything but they never went without food, clothes, etc… That said, Zachrian and his brothers were mommas boys, all three of them. She provided the emotional support and lessons on how to be a good person. His father, emotionally distant but intelligent and capable provided the lessons on how not to be “a damn idiot”.

His two brothers managed to find themselves a place in the world, one entering the smithcraft and the other a bit more enterprising, hitched a ship ride down south to take advantage of some trading opportunities. Zachrian spent the later portion of his teen years relatively aimless until a rider from High Reaches arrived at the hold.

Following being searched, he impressed to bronze Tsanth and became known as Z’ian. Since then he’s been at the weyr for many of the important events that have unfolded since then, though always on the sidelines and never as a major player. Over the turns he's shed off the preconceptions of weyr life that many holders are known for harboring and has settled in to become a relatively well adjusted and pro-High Reaches Weyr rider.

At thirty-two he's had a string of long term relationships with different women. He's the known father to at least two children, though he doesn't do a lot of active parenting. Z'ian is a kind but mostly absentee and awkward sort of man when it comes to younger children. His kids don't suffer from it as they're raised primarily by their mother in the lower caverns with the rest of the weyrbrats. He visits them when it’s important to but otherwise keeps out of the way.

In the past he’s kept his mouth and his nose out of any business that didn’t involve him directly. Like many however he was dismayed by the recent loss of their Weyrwoman and the subsequent stepping down of K'del. In the months since, he’d slowly begun to form a more firm opinion on the delicate political balance of High Reaches.

In Hraedhyth’s flight, there were witnesses who would swear that his bronze was clearing a path through the chasers. A path that K’del’s Cadejoth followed, almost as if he knew that it was going to be there. That alone has brought on some stares, but not much more than his falling in with the group of riders who aren’t recognizing the Weyrleadership of Taikrin or H’kon. While he’s yet to do anything drastic, Z’ian is at the least a sympathizer that’s currently passively resisting the state of affairs.

== Relationships ==

[[Aishani]]: The people judging you the most are the ones that have never had a real secret to hide or are just plain hypocrites.

[[Azaylia]]: You're stronger than you think you are.

[[Barnabas]]: Definitely a little crazy, but I get the feeling there's something else there. I can't help but like him, he's a good time.

[[H'kon]]: I'm sorry about what's happening to you now, with the rumors.

[[Jo]]: You're more than my friend. But it's so much more complicated than that, isn't it?

[[K'del]]: I don't know.

[[Taikrin]]: Well, you're the Weyrleader now.

[[Vienne]]: You're on my side now, I'm glad to have you. I think we're going to work well together.

== Soundtrack ==

[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=231yw5o_vYM Last Mistake - Augustana] <br> ''Hiding in the faces of people left behind, <br> In your soul and in my mind, in the ground, <br> Living in the memories of the years that pass us by, <br> Where our demons go to die, in the ground.''

== RP Logs ==

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

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

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

{{Icons}}

{{HRW}}

[[category:Characters]]
[[category:Riders]]
[[category:Bronzeriders]]
[[category:High Reaches Weyr]]
[[Category:Boreal Wing]]
[[category:High Reaches Area]]
[[category:Greater Pern]]

Logs:Hraedhyth's Senior Flight

2013-08-01T17:13:49Z

Zian:

{{ Log
| who = Azaylia, K'zin, Alida, Z'ian, K'del, B'rant, R'co, I'zech, H'vier
| where = Lake Shore / Hraedhyth and Azaylia's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Hraedhyth takes to the skies for her Senior flight and is caught by bronze Tsanth. There's only ''some'' fighting this time!
| when = Day 23, Month 5, Turn 32
| gamedate = 2013.07.31
| quote = "Get him to back the '''fuck''' off."
| weather = The sky is clear today. The air remains cool and damp, but the weather is overall pleasant today.
| categories = General, Divided Leadership, Flight
| mentions =
| ooc = Thanks to everyone who showed up and made this a hilarious, fun flight! Really, you're all fantastic. <3 Feel free to add icons or any poses I may have missed. e.e;
| icons = azaylia free.jpg, azaylia hraedhyth.jpg, r'co sullen.jpg, r'co deveriteauxth.jpg, i'zech ahahaha.png, i'zech rojeth beast.jpg, k'del sigh.png, k'del cadejoth.jpg, k'zin impish.jpg, k'zin rasavyth women.jpg, z'ian11 zian11.png, z'ian tsanth.jpg
| log = '''Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr'''

''The rest of the bowl may be barren, grass barely surviving at best, but here by the lake, it's brilliantly green in the warmer months: thickening and thriving in the silty, boulder-dotted soil just before it transitions to soft sand and thence to the cool, clear water itself.''

''A large freshwater lake fed by a low waterfall, it not only provides warm-weather bathing space for humans and dragons, but has one end fenced off as a watering hole for the livestock in the feeding grounds. The water there is often muddier than the rest of the clear lake, whose shallows drop off abruptly several yards out into deep water, and whose edge undulates against the coarse-hewn bowl wall: here close enough to just be bramble-covered rocks, there far enough away that a narrow land bridge divides the main lake from a smallish pond. Between are several rocky outcroppings that form excellent makeshift diving points, though only one -- across the bridge -- has a set of narrow, slippery, quite possibly tempting stairs.''
----

Though the sun is shining bright, it's not nearly warm enough for anyone to take an afternoon dip in the lake. And yet, here's Azaylia. Heat that has little to do with Rukbat has chased her to the chilly waters, pale yellow sundress soaked and clinging around her legs and waist. Her torso is mostly dry, save for where she's splashed herself to cool off. Sitting in the shallow surf with her head tilted towards the sky, the Acting Weyrwoman gives a content sigh.

She's long since eaten lunch and at this point in the day, Alida's bathing Ilicaeth, the grey-toned blue playing submarine for some moments as he rinses away the sand his rider used to scrub away some excess dead skin that he couldn't reach. It's a quick scrubbing that leaves the woman winded but pleased, and her blue pleased and, more importantly, itch-free. During her dragon ablutions, the blonde's left Zay to herself a bit father beyond, but now that she's pretty much done, the guard gathers up her stuff, redons socks and boots, rolls down her pants, and trudges over towards the goldrider. "Hey Zay..." is noted in a clear tone, green eyes then glancing around for a few moments, as if peering for someone or something that's missing.

It was likely Rasavyth who pointed out to K'zin that the goldrider was starting her own one-woman wet-dress contest at the lake. Even with the torso dry, since K'zin doesn't apparently have somewhere else to be right now, he's meandering, hands in pockets toward the lake. He's not dressed in his leathers for once, but in a set of work clothes, some soot and grunge speaking to the fact that he's recently been at the forge. "Hey Zay!" He cups his hands around his mouth when he gets near enough to shout and have it be heard. Rasavyth is not with him, perched outside the feeding grounds, contemplating his next meal, as it happens. Or maybe waiting for something ''more interesting''. It's possible that's why he's been hanging around here the last couple days. He's too young a bronze to have honed his senses.

Azaylia doesn't open her eyes, words carried by another sigh of pleasure, "Hello..." Drawn out, much like the bluerider's silence. It has her opening her eyes just enough to peer up through her lashes, though it takes her longer to realize, "Don is with Hraedhyth." The gold that's lounging on her ledge, hide rippling with amber heat. Occasionally she'll shift in the ''best'' ways, ensuring her ever-changing audience of browns and bronzes are watching. She's soaking up the attention much like the brown hatchling on her back is attempting to with the sun's weak rays. Azaylia's head rolls towards K'zin as he approaches, happy little smile growing, though she doesn't shout in return. "How are you?" A distracted pleasantry meant for both blue and bronze rider, once he's near enough.

"Don?" Alida inquires of Azaylia, then making a 'd'oh' face. "Keep fergettin' 'is name." Still, the bluie's casting her gaze over towards where the sunning 'hussy' of a gold and her tiny brown companion are splayed, then returning her gaze to Azaylia. Ilicaeth might be totally oblivious to the ways of love, but Alida's in her prime...and right now, Zay is looking rather...nice. Ahem. And then K'zin's call is heard upon the air, 'lida turning to him and calling back, "*You* again?!" Smirk. Back to Zay, "Okay. How's...uh...Don treatin' you?"

"Look, I'm trying to avoid you, but you're just not cooperating." K'zin calls to the bluerider, moving closer to the blonde while still angling closer to the edge of the water, changing the angle of the triangle the three riders create. "Zay," He addresses the goldrider, "I'm great, only you forgot to take your clothes off when you got in the lake." It's a complaint. One that would decidedly be considered too brazen on normal occasions. The roll of his shoulders is a touch different than the way K'zin normally carries himself, his grin a little wider, a little less guarded and a lot more cocky.

Dragon> Over the past few days, Hraedhyth has been a stifling, unforgiving presence on those of ''her'' Weyr. Every throb of need, all of that ''burning'' frustration is shared so that her suitors might writhe with her in blissful agony. Finally, just as Rukbat reaches its pique... so does Hraedhyth. With ruby and amethyst eyes blazing she lets forth a roar, heard as well as ''felt'' as her drums sound the call. She desires ''many'' things, but first: blood. (To High Reaches dragons from Hraedhyth)

Dragon> To High Reaches dragons, Tsanth has steered clear of the warrior queen all this time, all these months. Suspicion of her has hovered vaguely in his conscious, a wariness that he's no longer able to place. But now that she has reached her pique, he returns driven by that primitive desire to chase, to catch. And to the pens he'll go, landing between larger suitors and reacting violently. He nips at their legs, snapping to drive the less fierce away.

Dragon> To High Reaches dragons, Cadejoth has not been much prone to roaming, these recent days: he knows. He knows where he's supposed to be, and if not the exact ''when''-- well, that will come. He's been uncharacteristically drawn to the ground, today, as though hoarding up all of his energy for the inevitable main event. Now, though... ''now'' is the time. He is in the game (damn it).

Dragon> If there are those who hope that Iesaryth's rare storms will rise in challenge to the heat, that her specific possessiveness will be drawn out in response to the other queen... there is no such luck. The roar might bring the surge of seas and the briefest pluck of the undertow of the depths, but her rider has been aware, and waiting, and ''not'' sleeping -- so in short order, both the tall dark goldrider and her lifemate are up into the skies and ''away'' to leave Hraedhyth and hers to it. (To High Reaches dragons from Iesaryth)

"Hraedhyth wouldn't let me." Comes Azaylia's smooth reply, jaw tilting so that she's able to look up at K'zin. "She says the males won't be ''hungry'' for it if I--" A sudden swallow cuts the goldrider off, blinking for a moment before she tries to answer Alida. "A.. ah, fine. He's protective, I think. And I ''know'' he's stubborn." Her breathing has picked up, and it's only when Hraedhyth lets loose that roar that the source might be obvious. Chilly water is sent every which way as the woman scrambles, effectively soaking herself as she crawls out of the shore. Then? She's running.

"Do I 'offend?' Alida inquires smirkily back at K'zin, the woman unable to help but picking up on all the draconic emotion thickening the air as she too puffs up just a little. Bleed-over...but at least it's not from her own swimming blue...or it'd be much worse. Oh cripes...that's Hraedhyth's call, and then Zay's buggering out. Alida? She's going to hole up deep in her weyr.

"'Offend'?" K'zin answers the word in a scoff. But then the goldrider's running and the bronzerider is leering after her and the way the fabric clings. He doesn't, however, immediately follow, instead striding the few feet that separate he and the bluerider. He stops just in front of her. "''Offend''..." He rolls the word around on his tongue, as though tasting it. The brown gaze that regards Alida and the smile that she probably doesn't recognize as one of K'zin's usual looks is for a moment amused. Then without warning, hands slip along the sides of her jaw and pulls her face up to meet his as his lowers. A lusty kiss stolen in the heat of the on-coming flight; Ras is already in the pens.

Arglebargle! There's Waki stepping up into her grill...and then smooching her?! In many other circumstances, Alida would likely pound him to a pulp, but now... what with all the sudden dragon lust flooding the airwaves... She tosses her arms around him and perhaps surprises the bronzer with her own heated (and still somewhat frightened) kiss back. And, just as suddenly, violet-eyed Ilicaeth's warbling to his rider and breaking her inner fog, which winds up making the blonde break from K'zin as well, and... run. Run towards the blue, who extends a wing over her, while bugling at K'zin. Get out of here, no!

That she returns it with such fervor would surprise ''K'zin'', if he were ''only'' K'zin now. But he's not. He is both himself and his dragon, the two personalities mingling unnervingly. He doesn't hold her when she breaks. There's laughter that follows her retreat however. "Well, ''now'' you might offend. Didn't you ''like'' it?" He calls after her, baritone taunting. Only he has somewhere to be, so he strolls off toward the weyrwoman's weyr, laughing all the way.

She's in a tizzy of sorts - pretty damned odd, for Alida - and with K'zin's laughter and disappearance, Ilicaeth's having to take over some, guide his rider up to his neck - sans straps - then wing her back up to their weyr to ride out the pair's first goldflight ever. Oh, the horror! Oh, the lust! Oh... oh.

Dragon> To High Reaches dragons, Rasavyth won't ''admit'' that he's young and inexperienced. He knows what's up. Or that ''something'' is up. He won't ''admit'' that he's been hanging out near the feeding grounds just casually waiting for the right moment. But with this surge, this change in the desires of the gold, he knows his waiting hasn't been in vain, at least. He's here. He won't ''miss'' it. If he can get off the ground with enough blood to last. And that's a big 'If.'

Dragon> What the hell's he doing in here? Adding his own eighth mark, likely, Ilicaeth bursting into the lust fest and hollering, << BATTLE! >> before disappearing. (To High Reaches dragons from Ilicaeth)

Dragon> To High Reaches dragons, Deveriteauxth's icy, pale green is curious about those drums, but not oblivious to their meaning: his whisker-touch twitches and tickles as he takes up the call, and takes to the pens. Is Tsanth snapping? He'll dance out of the way, blasting the bronze with an aniseed wash, while he gets on with it all. There's glorious blood, flight, and sex to be had!

'''Azaylia and Hraedhyth's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr'''

''Accessed via a narrow staircase from the Weyrleader's Complex, or from the broad, sunny ledge beyond, this weyr was clearly designed to be for one of the weyr's junior queens. Spacious, but not extravagant, it boasts a well-sized outer room, narrowing in front the well-sized dragon couch and ledge beyond. Much of this main room has been turned over to a couch and several chairs, which circle the hearth and the blue rug set down in front of it. There's a low table here, too, set in the middle of that rug. A tack-cupboard stands tidily behind the couch, keeping out of sight a rider's paraphernalia.''

''Three low steps lead up onto a peculiar little landing, just large enough for the brand new desk and set of shelves that have been placed there. Here, too, there are definite pointers to the lived-in state of the weyr: the desk could in no way be described as tidy.''

''Behind the desk, a narrow passage leads in an inner set of chambers, made up of a sleeping cavern and a private bathing area. A decent-sized bed fills much of the space, the mattress piled high with overstuffed down pillows and comforter. There's a nightstand on either side, and against one of the other walls, a tall, heavy wardrobe made from a dark wood that matches the bed. The bathing area is part of the same cavern, a folding screen shielding the toilet and slightly raised, double-sized bathtub built into the stone, and a small shelf to hold toiletries.''

''Unusually, the walls, ceiling and floor of this weyr have all been whitewashed thickly, covering the natural stone. The hearth is brand new, too, as are most of the built-in fittings, as though they have recently needed to be replaced.''

----

The little brown firelizard that was with Hraedhyth? He makes like a tree and gets the fuck out as the gold hurtles down towards the feeding pens. There's a fluidity to her movements, and while she ''burns'' for flight, she isn't quick to make a kill. No, she arches her blunt neck and fans her dark wings, a territorial show to inspire as well as ward ''them'' away from her kills. By the time she's finally made a kill, Azaylia is all but throwing herself into her weyr, yellow sundress soaked and clinging. Is she late?

K'del hasn't been so crass as to hang around the Weyrleader Complex all day, but that doesn't mean he's not quick to arrive - clambering up the steps ''before'' Azaylia makes it back. He's serious faced and quiet, paying attention to no one in particular, though Azaylia's arrival ''does'' lift his gaze for a moment. Out in the feeding grounds, Cadejoth bloods his kill with not unexpected fervor, blood ringing his mouth and bedecking his talons.

Tsanth throws himself into the herdbeasts, quickly taking down his prey like any experienced dragon is meant to. And like any rider with over fifteen turns under his belt, Z'ian doesn't arrive late to this particular flight. He's there before Azaylia like some people and takes his place back away, not crowding anyone just yet. And does it seem like he's keeping his hands carefully tucked up under his arms this time? He must remember the last time Hraedhyth rose.

Oh jays, NOT AGAIN! That's the look of utter woe and horror on B'rant's features when they weyrling's youthful but huge bronze decides to take up the urges of his baser nature at High Reaches for the second time. This time, with a whole three green flights (all unwon) to his name, Rhenth skids into the pens, accidentally plowing over a pair of herdbeasts in his hurry to blood. Their bodies crushed by his fervor, the young dragon makes the best of it, and starts supping off of them, his red eyes roiling with need. And his rider? Is escorted in Azaylia's weyr by some kind fool that's taken 'pity' upon the clueless bronzer.

As a gentleman should, Deveriteauxth waits for the lady to make her choice before he makes his, unnerved by her territorial display. He lunges for the nearest beast, parchment-pale and fluid of movement, jaws latching down upon the unfortunate creature's neck to begin suckling its lifeforce away. Hot on Azaylia's heels is R'co, still decked out in flight gear with his goggles pushed up onto his forehead. He pauses just inside the entryway to simply ''watch'' for the time being, while stripping off his gloves, helmet and so on. He holds onto them for now, fingers curled deathly tight around them while his other hand remains shoved deep into his pocket.

Rojeth takes advantage of the frenzy that the feeding dragons have caused among the herdbeasts, reaching out his talons to trip a terrified animal and the smashing its head into the dirt with a satisfying crunch. But as he drinks from his careful distance, he watches the gold, head tipped aside to keep her in his sight. I'zech's glance, as he staggers into Azaylia's weyr with a hand scrubbing over his cheek, is for the nearest chair, which he swings out to face the gathering bodies before dropping to sit, hands hanging between spread knees and an irritated look on his face.

Dragon> Hraedhyth's flames stretch far and wide, unmerciful as they scorch and snare those who choose to feed along side her. Oh, ''now'' Tsanth is interested? ''Good''. (To Tsanth from Hraedhyth)

K'zin and Azaylia have trained together - run together on many occasions. The bronzerider, who had been on the lakeshore with the goldrider, ''should'' have entered on her heels. But he doesn't. There's a delay. When he arrives, it's at a swaggering stroll, and he's already looking smug. Clearly, this bodes well for K'zin not ending up battered in some way by the end of the flight. In appearance, he's sooty and wearing work clothes like he's been at the forge (which from the smell of sweat, metal and smoke, he probably has). He doesn't seem to be particularly drawn to a wall, so he just wanders in the familiar weyr. Rasavyth has enthusiasm! But not skill. Woe. His first attempts to catch ''anything'' go woefully amiss. It's not, at least, a surprise to either member of the bronze pairing.

Dragon> To Hraedhyth, Tsanth meets the flames with sheets of sand. Sand the melts and twists and settles in pools of liquid glass, a reflection. A mirror of an image of Hraedhyth's image. Fierce and strong, terrifying and brave. Something to be admired, revered.

Hraedhyth is greedy this afternoon, not only for blood but for their adoration. ''She'' watches them right back, judgement clouding her jeweled gaze that burns into each and every male. She doesn't ''quite'' finish with a beast, stopping to roar at a younger pair, squabbling and nipping at each other-- luckily she doesn't catch Tsanth doing the same. Rather than continue, her jaws snap another almost in half, messily slurping up what doesn't get all over her muzzle. Azaylia's eyes are wide, fighting to focus on the riders who are already in her weyr. Waiting. "''Oh.''" She stumbles towards one, K'del, before stopping short and moving ''away''. Her chin is tilted towards the feeding grounds, not being able to see, but not needing to.

"''Zay''," says K'del, when the goldrider stumbles towards her, half-raising one arm in order to reach towards her, though he's control of himself enough that he doesn't keep trying when she moves away again. Not that that means there's not naked longing in his gaze, of course, or disappointment. Cadejoth seems genuinely delighted by Hraedhyth's wanton wastefulness (or perhaps it's just the 'wanton' part of it): he hurtles his mostly-spent beast off across the grounds, heedless of whether or not it impacts with someoen else. ''He'' is enjoying himself.

Dragon> Melted glass is maintained by her fire, thundering drums sending ripples through them that alter their image. Tsanth at her side. Tsanth twining with her. Then he's gone, and another, non-descript dragon takes his place. The future is as fluid as her preference, but he will earn the chance to prove himself. (To Tsanth from Hraedhyth)

Deveriteauxth takes down a second beast; a small one, that's quickly drained. Having had his fill, the pale brown spreads his silvery-scrawled wings, taking to the skies ''early'', it might seem; but that's so he can get into a position he feels will give him an ''advantage''. Someone's ledge is commandeered as he hunches over the edge of it, every muscle in him tensed and ''waiting'', ready to spring into action once Hraedhyth makes her move. R'co is less forward than his dragon (for once); his blue-eyed gaze remains on Azaylia, lips pursed in a thoughtful, somewhat unhappy pout, as he hangs back and observes.

Dragon> Poor pup. How can he expect to catch her if he is not able to contest with a filthy beast? Hraedhyth urges him on, dark tendrils of smoke twisting in a sensual dance, much like what will take place in the sky. Is he not hungry to learn? There is so much she could ''teach'' him. (To Rasavyth from Hraedhyth)

Rhenth isn't going to screw it up /this/ time! The weyrling bronze tosses his first, bloodless herdbeast out of the way, the carcass unintentionally striking a brown in the side. A low rumble soon finds the Fortian bronzling tucking into his second 'beast, suckling heavily at its throat, his eyes finally lifting to Hraedhyth and her messy blooding, the young beast crooning to her. Lovely! Finally inside Azaylia's weyr, B'rant's distress at being caught up in a foreign gold flight only becomes more apparent when he settles his gray gaze upon all those other, more experienced folk within. Wingleader, Weyrsecond, riders. Oh sweet Faranth, no weyrlings! The towering teen tries to cave in some on himself and hide against a wall, but Rhenth is doing his thing out there, and his bronze's lust is starting to collide with his rider's aghast state, beginning to push such silly human things aside. Once, those grays even manage to find Azaylia deeper inside the cave, and they cling to her like a drowning man would a piece of driftwood. A very sexy piece of driftwood.

Tsanth rips into another beast, suckling the heated coppery blood down with expert precision. He knows when to stop blooding and now is the time, he doesn't glut himself. It's now that he waits, bundling himself up into a tight package that's prepared to launch into the air just as Hraedhyth is. And oh no, he's no longer nipping at those around them. Though maybe that's just because he has a personal bubble now, they know better. His rider meanwhile remains quiet and in the back, away from the others that swarm the weyr. Waiting and watching carefully, for any movement or change in what's happening.

Dragon> He's all youthful adoration for the warrior queen, her youngest suitor's noble heart roaring with desire for her and her fiery ways. << Hraedhyth. >> His hearts might burst with the want of her. (To Hraedhyth from Rhenth)

K'zin happens to be wandering near enough to K'del that when Zay strays toward him and then away, the look in the older bronzer's expression has the man bursting out with laughter. Definitely laughing ''at'' K'del. He did warn him he was an ass in flights, so... ''Someone's'' having a good time at this flight anyway. His eyes flick toward Azaylia, a sly, secret sort of smile starting as his gaze lingers, and then it's away again as he continues to wander. Rasavyth is more focused, though, his head tossing toward the golden huntress. His efforts are renewed, and this time, he meets with success. Not once, but ''twice''! Though they're not the most sizable of beasts.

Dragon> And while the fire that melts and helps form his glass is hers, the material itself remains belonging to him. The image is dashed and changed. Mirrors turn to blown sculptures, the other dragon gone. Unimportant. Them together, a rippling mass of impressive muscle hurtling through the sky. Towards a destiny. (To Hraedhyth from Tsanth)

Dragon> Hraedhyth can sense his delight, kindling to her fire as it licks at his chains, demanding they glow red hot. There's an unspoken, savage promise-- she'll be able to soothe the burn once he catches her. ''If'' he catches her. (To Cadejoth from Hraedhyth)

Dragon> The intensity Hraedhyth's mind meets with is incredible. Incredible, because the oozy drums that beat are so much a reflection of her mind. It's like an artist painting a perfect image by a great master: it's a ''compliment'' paid, a mirror he provides herself with to see her awesome beauty and commanding presence. He has never been more impressed with her than he is ''now''. His copy is not without his own twist, though, the ooze seeping through, suggesting how ''wonderful'' it would be to worship her in the winds. He ''is'' hungry. He's hungry for many things, not the least of which are ''her'' and ''blood''. She could teach him much, will she? Won't she teach him this dance? His claws slash as he successfully makes a kill, and he drinks his tribute to her dry before seeking a second. He ''will'' give this his all. She calls to them all, yes, but deeper, he feels her calling to ''him''. (To Hraedhyth from Rasavyth)

I'zech's dark gaze slowly begins to scan the room, the assembled men, most of whom have their attention on one wet-dressed woman. Neither Azaylia nor the collection of suitors do anything to soften the glare he's wearing or the sneer of a smile that tugs one corner of his mouth. But he's comfortable in his chair and makes no move to leave it. Rojeth, on the other hand, is the recipient of Cadejoth's used up meal, and he flexes his talons into the ground as he rounds his focus on the other bronze, letting out a rasping growl from between his jagged, protruding teeth. There's a slow, preparatory swish of his tail.

Dragon> They glow - oh yes, they do glow. For ''her''. There are no stars twined in Cadejoth's chains tonight, no ice-cold delight, no honeyed warmth; there are no other queens for Cadejoth but this one, and his chains burn and sizzle in emphasis for it. He ''will'' catch her. He ''will'' have her. And they will be glorious together. (To Hraedhyth from Cadejoth)

Azaylia seems to regret twisting away from K'del's grasp, gaze turning towards him when he utters her name. And yet, she keeps walking. Past K'zin, though there's a long drag of her body against his, dress marked by filth and the bronzerider wetter for it. Suddenly, she's frozen, not so much as breathing as legs flex and she stands on her tiptoes in the midst of them. At that very moment, Hraedhyth's cloak is cast off, revealing clubbed sails that flap after she takes a running leap into the sky-- knocking against Rhenth on her way into the air. Did she mean to? Does it matter? Beating wings send her skyward, gaining a lead through sheer ''power'' rather than agility.

And all of that waiting is eventually rewarded when she launches herself into the sky like so. Coiled tightly unto himself, Tsanth springs forth after her. He's gone and out of the pen before many of the others are, his smaller frame lending him that much more agility. The chase is on and this time, he seems to mean it. There's no attempt to burn his energy creating a path for others. Z'ian knows that moment all too well. Instinctively, his eyes raise up to a sky that he can't see and he pushes past another rider and moves to the forefront of the weyr. Where now, Azaylia would actually be able notice him around if she were to look.

Oh, go on, K'zin. Laugh. K'del's not laughing. For K'del, this is utterly serious: he can't seem to help himself but pull at the knot on his shoulder, and continue to stare so completely after Azaylia. He ''is'' pleased by her glance back, though, even if his own dragon distracts him so quickly. Cadejoth doesn't care that Rojeth has been hit by his beast; doesn't care that he's being focused on; doesn't care about much at all, most likely, except the sudden rush of air beneath his wings, and the height he's putting on as quickly as he possibly can.

Look! Over there! It's a bird! No, it's a plane! Wait-- what the hell is a plane? Never mind. It's Reisoth! His appearance over the bowl is accompanied by an uncharacteristic bellow of frustrated reluctance as he angles himself toward the ''bowl'' and not the sky to deposit his rider. He definitely isn't going to wait for straps to be taken off or anything like that. As soon as H'vier's feet are on the ground, the bronze is launching himself back into the air to take off after the bestial beacon of gold to join her lustful entourage of suitors. H'vier is probably just making his way across the bowl toward the weyr the bronze should have dropped him off closer to.

Dragon> Hraedhyth's drums answer the foreigner who has traveled ''so'' far for his devotion: ''Rhenth''. One solid syllable, one solid beat, the echoes rippling with sound as well as desire-- for ''him''. (To Rhenth from Hraedhyth)

Power that couldn't be matched by Deveriteauxth, hence his chosen lead; but even still, his launch from the ledge he's chosen doesn't give him quite the advantage he'd hoped for. Light plays upon the ripple of muscles beneath his pale hide and across the silvery scrawl that edges his wingsails as he beats down with all the strength he can muster, ignorant of his size disadvantage as he revels in the sheer ''thrill'' of being there in the lust-fuelled flight. From where he is on the edge of the crowd in the weyr, R'co continues to just watch, though he does so now with decidedly less attention on the room and people before him as his focus shifts more to be with his dragon.

K'zin's ''purrs'' in approval as Azaylia slides across him, the laughter abruptly quieted in favor of a leering grin. He doesn't reach out for her though, more amusement showing in his expression and manner, his focus finally latching onto her though, at least for the moment. Hraedhyth's cloak must be hereditary, for her son, too, looks as though he's doffing one. The dulled bronze of the wings he keeps so primly wrapped around his slender, aristocratic form extend to reveal ''shining'' bronze hidden beneath as he takes wing. He might not be as well fueled as some of the other dragons, but he'll be putting his best foot forward and following the silent call that breaks bonds of heredity. (Even if they didn't, he'd be in good company. Right, Cadejoth?)

She shoves against him? Who cares that he's staggering a little, for Hraedhyth's /touched/ him! The sight, scent of her so near drives him mad with want, and in a few instants -- time taken to recover from that marvelous, fierce push -- Rhenth's impelling his huge body skyward, the young bronze squarely at the center of the pack of suitors, his eyes burning red, with a reflection of gold at their centers. Hreadhyth! His own heart fairly jumps into his throat when his lifemate ascends, B'rant suddenly staggering away from such earthbound things as a wall, then looking over imploringly to Azaylia...who he starts to drift towards as if upon a cloud.

Dragon> Of ''course'' Hraedhyth calls to ''him''. He's Rasavyth. Though passion surges through every fiber, it is not anger at her suitors-- suitor. No, she desires them. Him. The beat of her wings matches the adrenaline shared by two bodies... Will the young bronze catch and be her third? (To Rasavyth from Hraedhyth)

Rojeth launches, though perhaps it's more inspired by Cadejoth's take-off than Hraedhyth's. But maybe that doesn't matter, since it all happens at basically the same moment either way. He powers upward with the rest of the pack, trailing tight on Cadejoth, where he could just about catch his tail, even if Rojeth's eyes are on the leading gold. In his seat, the burst of activity tenses through I'zech with a long inhale and a momentary closing of eyes. They open again to survey the tightening of the crowd in front of him and one legs bounces, but he doesn't yet stand up from his chair. He can keep an eye on Azaylia from here.

It doesn't look as though Azaylia will be swinging at any riders today, eyes closed as she tilts her jaw skyward. The little curl to her lips widens to bare her teeth in a savage grin, hands curling into tight fists at her sides. Even with Hraedhyth's heat, the fabric of her dress is clingy and cold, urging her to find something warm. Someone. Opening her eyes, she catches the frantic movement of I'zech's knee. She's reaching for him, though there won't be objections should she be intercepted. The gold in the sky is not so generous with her touch, not yet. Smokey, spiced incense leaves a trail for them to follow as Hraedhyth climbs higher and higher-- wings straining to lift her gorged body. That earlier greed will be her undoing.

He's 'floating' towards her, and she's...moving towards him? Of course Azaylia is, because right now B'rant isn't really noticing the other men in here, especially I'zech back there. Smiling with sudden confidence and obvious want, the Fortian reaches out both hands to try and gather Azaylia into his arms. Greenhorn! Rhenth, meanwhile, is riding slowly above the main Flight pattern, wanting to be free of others so close so he can better see, close on the glowing siren that is Hraedhyth. He might lose a little forward ground at first, but his huge wings and their beats are making up for it, the queen's scent intoxicating him as he's never been before. His own urgent pine and oaks of forest medieval grow even taller, tower like titans towards her, their roots pulled from the ground in their/his want.

Reisoth's only focus is on Hraedhyth and trying to gain lost ground from his late start. The lack of blooding will probably catch up to him but it would be worse to not get in the sky at all before one of the others had their tails around the gold that should be ''his.'' Despite his frustration at being behind, Reisoth is silent. H'vier, not so much. He's swearing to himself as he finally makes his way into Azaylia's weyr, growling unconsciously at the first man he nearly runs into but manages not to shove out of his way.

Dragon> ''Destiny''. It speaks to her primal nature, urges her to leave his sands hot to the touch, scouring and scalding much like her desire. It too is beginning to chafe, wearing down her need to ''escape'' them. Him. Her flames flicker, unintentionally sharing that waver in strength. (To Tsanth from Hraedhyth)

Dragon> To Hraedhyth, Rasavyth is too clever a dragon, even when lust-clouded, to miss the summation of those few mistaken points. But it doesn't ''matter''. That's how these things go, right? The female gets many offers, and she accepts the best one. The one that brings her flowers, or in this case bones. He's not naturally leant toward ferocity, or licking. Or anything that gets his mouth near a potentially unhygienic, icky surface (like another dragon's flank), for that matter, but with a snarl, and flare of ooze-touched fire, his reflected drums intensify as he makes his declaration of ''war''! Look out fellow fliers, he's on a collision course!

"''Back off''," says K'del, lifting a fist to emphasize his words: yes, that would be towards you, H'vier. Never mind that H'vier is taller (and bulkier); that's not important right now. It's a distraction, though - something that pushes K'del's attention away from his dragon's upwards climb, and away, too, from the sublime conclusion that is, surely, theirs for the taking (if only they succeed at the whole positive thinking thing, right?). K'del lets out a breath and Cadejoth adjusts his path, thrusting himself into motion in a different way now that it ''seems'' like it won't be so long a flight as all that.

Led on by that incense, Deveriteauxth powers after Hraedhyth, using his smaller size and agility to whatever advantage he can manage. A dip of his wing makes him swerve from the path of a larger bronze; a powerful downbeat drives him forward towards the glowing golden prize, on which his whirling, jewel-toned sight is firmly set. Perhaps it's H'vier's growling entrance that causes R'co to move at last - perhaps it's the young bronzerider with hands attempting to grab ''his'' Weyrwoman, but the brownrider finally steps towards Azaylia, hovering just behind the Fortian as if ready to pull him back - then he seems to change his mind, echoed in the skies above by another surge from Deveriteauxth. Wiry little R'co - because he is ''small'', compared to these much taller men! - nudges in closer to Azaylia, one hand held up with its palm towards her, as if hesitant to touch her despite flight-fuelled lust and need.

The pack, what a joke. Tsanth weaves between them, expending some energy to bully the younger and more inexperienced dragons. The older bronze slams his small but muscled body into them before resuming course, chasing down that alluring scent of her spiced incense. It's the move that B'rant makes towards Azaylia that has Z'ian actually moving. Because he's done this before, well, he knows that it isn't going to end well for that Fortian weyrling. "Kid. Back the fuck off." He tries to warn, not quite making the distance to the pair before contact can be made.

Dragon> Her heat turns his sands into something burning, something destructive and scolding it's true. But also something that could nurture, something of him that speaks to something she knows so deeply. Heated sands that warm eggs, that keeps them nested and safe until the moment that they hatch out into the world. Tsanth's sands can do that for her, for her progeny. If only she'd just stop flying from him. (To Hraedhyth from Tsanth)

Well if Azaylia is going to give him attention, I'zech can get up. He doesn't even haul himself out of the chair with heavy reluctance as he might usually do; he just moves easily to his feet, an elbow ready to shove off anyone who looks to intercept -- seems like that person might be B'rant. With dark laughing eyes on Azaylia, as if the two of them are sharing some private joke, a smug curve sharpens on I'zech's mouth, feral and undeterred by the minute jostlings of the other men in the room or the dragons in the sky. Rojeth continues drafting on Cadejoth, and then encroaching, creeping along his back with talons spread dangerously, downward strokes of wings near enough to tangle with upward sweeps should the rhythm change. He growls again, scratchy, and louder this time so that the sound isn't lost in the rush of thinning air even if the other bronze can't actually feel the breath on the back of his neck.

One thing can be said for certain, even so early on: much will be learned here by young Rasavyth. So far, he's keeping up well. Except, is that-- is the mannered socialite of a bronze ''snarling''? It looks... well, downright silly. Although, he is a bronze, so maybe that lends it a little weight. This is the warrior queen, and he's decided to ''fight'' for her! His first target is a brown. A big brown. A brown that's ''very nearly'' the same size as he, and his weave has him slamming up against him. Thankfully, wings don't tangle, but it has Rasavyth ''rebounding''. Well, ''that'' didn't go well. Someone probably could have told him that physical force wasn't the way to get the win with a slender frame like his, but he's young yet. He'll learn. K'zin's attention is pulled off the heat-seeking goldrider and back to K'del for the moment, observing the spat between his 'mentor' and H'vier, the smile that pulls on his lips almost gleeful, almost-- as if-- as if it gives him an ''idea''. Let them take ''each other'' out...

When B'rant volunteers, Azaylia doesn't hesitate to open her arms, intending to wrap them around the Fortian. Is he foreign? Does it matter? Before she's able to, I'zech and his elbow are there. It's not as brutal as it could be, but his feral display has her eyes bright as she instead tucks up against him, shivering from chill as well as delight. There are goosebumps on her arms as they wrap tightly around his waist, trying to soak up his bodyheat. Above, Hraedhyth's oversized jaws are parted as she pants with exertion, deciding now to take a sudden turn. Sudden for her size, at least, though in reality she cuts a wide arc that offers plenty of time for her chasers to gain some distance. She begins to falter, stubborn until the very end as she struggles to keep ahead.

"Go fuck yourself," H'vier snaps back at K'del, eyeing the fist with a sneer while his own hand clenches in response to the prospect of violence. That's not why he's here, though, and he'd really rather be touching that woman over there. She's alluring to the point of distraction, especially with Reisoth above, desperate to close distance between himself and his queen, to take his place beside her. He pushes himself but it's clear he's flagging with as hard as he's been pushing himself up to this point trying to catch up.

Was Cadejoth a little distracted by his rider's distraction? A ''little'', sure. It's got nothing on his distraction, now, a distraction fuelled by Rojeth's close proximity, and that increasing feeling of being hemmed in... and that is ''really'' not going to work with his plans. H'vier gets forgotten as a result, whatever he says in answer (none of it matters). "''Get him to back the '''fuck''' off''," K'del belows, turning his gaze away from the taller bronzerider and off towards I'zech. You. That. There. ''Him''. Hraedhyth falters, and Cadejoth makes a desperate attempt to pull away from the bronze behind him, all but throwing himself at the queen. ''Now'', Hraedhyth. ''Now''!

And he's managed to keep his stamina up this time, kept it up and not lost it. Even if he did knock around some of the younger bronzes. It's now, just as Hraedhyth takes that sudden wide arc that Tsanth shoots up in the sky to fly over and above her. He passes a suitor that really should be better prepared to catch and now, drops down suddenly with his wings swung out wide to meet her. The older dragon isn't distracted by the others, unphased even. This is his time ''now'' to act. And he does. Z'ian meanwhile has slipped quietly between the would be suitors, edging closer and closer to Azaylia as his dragon gets nearer to hers.

Someone's saying something in urgent tones, and the part of him that's still B'rant is telling the young bronzer to listen, at least. But the part of him that's Rhenth -- the part growing in power with each passing moment -- couldn't care less. Hraedhyth/Azaylia is all there is in the world, right now. A small and foggy cant of his head is offered in faint irritation at Z'ian, gray eyes barely 'seeing' him, but certainly not seeing the approaching I'zech at all. And then there's an elbow, and that elbow hurts some...and B'rant's no longer finding Azaylia quite as available. Instant denial equals anger equals instant thrown punch in the vicinity of that elbowing. All the jockeying and growling and such is simple and pure distraction, in Rhenth's mind, the youngest dragon in the 'pack' seperating himself from all the others both physically and mentally as he shadows Hraedhyth from above. As she rises, so does he, as she veers, again, he does the same. He too is flagging, but he can see that the gold is too, and such only makes Rhenth try /harder/ to close with her, the young bronzling starting to lose some height as his lust drives him closer to her. Down must meet up at some point, and when he get so close to Hraedhyth that he can almost taste her exotic spices, the Fortian's misformed tail and large claws flex to aim themselves at her, stretch at her own limbs and tail. I'm /here/!

Hraedhyth's change in course is adjusted to with a dipping of his scripted wings, Deveriteauxth's smaller stature giving him an agility advantage over those bigger dragons, even if it means he's flagging a little due to lower stamina. But where there's a will there's a way, and the scribe's far from finished writing his verse yet; the parchment-pale brown pulls upon his last reserves to make a desperate attempt to capture the glowing prize. R'co stays where he is, surrounded by all the tall people, hands dug firmly into his pockets now as he leaves them to their thing, while he focuses on willing his lifemate ''forward'' - maybe. That unhappy-looking pout is back upon his lips; perhaps it's just a look of concentration.

Dragon> There's a skipped beat of surprise, quickly followed by delight, and it has her smokey tendrils reaching for ''Tsanth''. Eggs, yes. Sands, yes. But first? First, Hraedhyth will make her choice. And it ''is'' hers to make. (To Tsanth from Hraedhyth)

Dragon> A choice yes, there are so many choices now for her. The young and inexperienced, the older yet still rash. Those that want her because they think they ''know'' better than her, their queen. And then there is Tsanth and he is waiting, waiting for her to allow him to take her. (To Hraedhyth from Tsanth)

''And things were going so well!'' Okay, not ''really''. But better than the last time! And the time before that! And all the times K'zin's memory can help Rasavyth remember. But it's the same problem. He's ''spent'' and he's not gotten anywhere near close. Lagged to the back of the pack of chasers after the rebound and now suddenly out of fuel, Rasavyth's bellow is one of earnest frustration. He won't win this battle, but maybe, just ''maybe'' he'll win the war, ''someday''. K'zin's eyes briefly find Azaylia tucked at I'zech's side, a slight sigh quietly slipping from him, before he's pushing a hand through his hair and moving to meet his lifemate on the ground.

It's probably not too much of a surprise that I'zech lets out a bark of a laugh when K'del starts fuming in his direction. So, in short? Fat chance. He's got Azaylia all slunk up against him, all damp and clingy in the wrap of his arms, and even though he's laughing at K'del, that sharp, insufferable smile he wears is for the goldrider. And Rojeth, well, this was the plan all along: to fuck with Cadejoth and get the upper hand, er, wing. Without being deterred by fluster, he darts after the queen, ready to finish off the scheme with a mighty victory. You know, if all these other bronzes weren't around and thinking basically the same thing. And if that enormous Fortian didn't aim a meat-fisted punch at his rider's side. The blow is enough to knock I'zech off balance, feet tripping sideways and his grip pulling Azaylia with him as he winces and fumbles. Which leaves Rojeth fumbling too, at just the wrong/right moment to see his golden prize slip beyond his grasp.

A squeak quickly turns into a squeal as Azaylia goes tumbling down with I'zech in a tangle of limbs and sopping wet clothing. It's a spark that ignites Hraedhyth's fury, a surge of energy that has her climbing higher still, barreling towards the bronze above her with purpose. She stretches, reaching for Tsanth just as her rider lifts her arms, squirming not unpleasantly against I'zech-- too bad she's trying to get ''away''. It's only when gold collides with the older bronze that Azaylia turns savage, kicking and biting if she has too in order to get to Z'ian.

K'del ... what? The look of shock on his expression is the kind that probably ought to be commemorated for all times. It doesn't last long, though: a few seconds, and then it's crumpled, and he's turning to all but run for the exit. But no, he doesn't cry. (He ''does'' disappear atop Cadejoth a few minutes later, though, so make of that what you will).

Ha-HA! She's /not/ yours! And so says B'rant's triumphant sneer/grin when he lands that punch somewhere on I'zech, which in turn drives Rojeth away from Hraedhyth/Azaylia. Too bad that Rhenth is diving just a little too slowly to beat Tsanth to the 'prize'. The Fortian bronze gives off a basso howl of frustration and loss, and immediately banks away from the Reachian pair, to slowly spiral to the ground, and thence to the chill lake. B'rant simply gasps -- his own consciousness within huge gray eyes, now -- and bolts for the hangings that lead to the outside of Azaylia's weyr. Once they've both got a few breaths to spare, it's Between and back to Fort, where at least one of them will get laid.../and/ yelled at later.

Man, a guys takes a punch for a girl and what does he get? Kicks and bites? As her squirm becomes rather nasty, I'zech's finger dig in a bit, as if he might just be able to keep her anyway, but a knee to the rib that B'rant just bruised is enough to roll him away, onto a knee so he struggle to his feet to glare at the huge wall of a boy who just screwed it all up. Nevermind how he himself screwed it all up for K'del. I guess maybe we shouldn't go throwing herdbeasts all willy nilly, should we. As Rojeth tears away from the other dragons, I'zech goes stumbling out toward the bowl with a hand on his side.

Foiled! Deveriteauxth lets out a sad croon of disappointment, before pulling away, tucking wings to his side and spiralling slowly down to the bowl below. R'co is quick to exit, too, hiding his long blonde hair beneath his flight helmet as he ducks out onto the ledge. He, too, doesn't linger long in the Weyr - it's up and up and ''up'' some more before the pair wink into between for places unknown.

Down and... caught. Tsanth is over Hraedhyth, twining up with her and guiding them now through the skies over the 'Reaches. And somewhere in there, the messages goes out to their weyr at large. Even now the bronze is beginning to extend his influence, his persuasion and weight to the others. And within Azaylia's weyr, Z'ian has been quietly approaching. And while there's a fervent look in his eyes, it doesn't stop him from pausing to actually help her up and out of the fallen bronzerider's grasp. He'll take it from here, thanks. And with a firm grip, he'll tug the damp clothed goldrider into his arms.

Shock is a good word for it. H'vier stares across Azaylia's weyr to where she's headed. It's ''that'' bastard. The one that kept him from winning the ''last'' flight. For a moment or so, it looks like H'vier kind of wants to go over and rip the other bronzerider a new, uh, something. But he somehow manages to turn himself toward the exit instead. He doesn't even hit the wall. His mom is probably proud!

Dragon> Along with her body, all of that once-feared ferocity slams into Tsanth, hungry and hunting and-- ''oh''. Tangled as they are, that intensity is used for pleasure rather than pain as they fly over ''their'' Weyr. For the first few moments, Hraedhyth will set the place ablaze with her savage claim, heat stifling and smoke choking until her hold suddenly relaxes. She is Matriarch, and she has chosen her mate. (To Tsanth from Hraedhyth)

Once Azaylia is free from I'zech's painful grip, those arms continue to reach for Z'ian until he helps her up. There's a moment of tense calm as she simply ''stares'' at him, and then she's crushed against him in a full-bodied embrace. She might even undo his good deed, enough force used to bring them back down to the floor, where ''most'' of their clothes will be joining them.

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

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Logs:And then he says-

2013-07-10T15:54:51Z

Zian:

{{ Log
| who = Telavi, Sabella
| where = Sabella's Weyr
| what = The girl's stay in and gossip (who's surprised?), drink beer and discuss giving things back.
| when = Day 16, month 3, turn 32
| gamedate = 2013.07.10
| quote = What, they won't be floating around all, 'Oh, I hope Sabella picks me, pick meeeee!'?!
| weather = Snowy
| categories =
| mentions = E'sren, K'zin, I'zech
| ooc =
| icons = sabella smile.png, telavi disney.jpg
| log =

Blue (and orange, peach, gold and crimson, though less of them here, out of the weather) continue on through the archway between ledge and weyr, finally giving way to the natural grey stone of the weyr's interior. Ah, quiet: no wind, no noise, no eye-blinding colors. Inside, the weyr is all soft shades and creamy furniture, its pale wood furniture clothed in natural hues, with driftwood and thin linen accents covering the many storage alcoves, and the lovely rounded sleeping room. The hearth is likewise sleek and smooth, its short mantle holding a simple stone vase, presently empty of flowers. Only along the edges of the dragon wallow near the door does orange explode again, matched by citrus-hued sacks full of sand for resting a dragon's tired chin.

----

The weyr renovations were completed some time ago, so it can be imagined that hanging out at Sabella's place is actually kind of nice. It's really soothing in creams and cool accent colors. Tonight is a girl's night, where the couch has been abandoned for the floor and the little table in front of it as been moved aside. Beer and some light finger foods that were pilfered from somewhere are the menu for tonight. "So then he says, 'You blew my cover' but he's totally talking in this picked up fake accent. And he's wearing these clothe that are all patchy. I think Rasavyth is putting him up to this stuff." And thus concludes Sabs' short-story version of the initial meeting with K'zin. Having not covered anything that's ''secret'' or the bits he dropped about his relationship with Telavi.

Reposing upon that floor, her bare feet tucked up on the seat of the couch when they aren't in the air over her head, Telavi had ''started out'' tossing those puffy little fried things into her mouth and not worrying too much about missing. By now she's up on one elbow, though, just staring. "Seriously? ''Seriously?'' Was it even a good fake accent?" While she's at it, she tosses one of the fallen fried bits at Sabella, just because she can.

Sabella tries to catch it with her mouth, but doesn't. It lands somewhere in her lap and she plucks it up, eating it. She's very classy like that. "''Seriously.'' It was alright. I guess it was good enough for the bartender, but he didn't seem like he was paying attention anyway." She reaches for her beer and drinks some down before picking up another bit and tossing it at Telavi now. "But I guess we're finally going to be friends again.""

"Well, that's something." Though Tela's mouth purses up, like it can't decide whether to giggle or go the dubious route, right before she just plain brightens. "...You know, that could be another of our taglines, actually. 'Shadowing FrozeMyAssOff Wing wasn't so exciting, but it was good enough for the bartender.'" She gapes her mouth fish-wide, snapping for the bit Sabs has tossed her, only to have to pry it out from her hair when it bounces off. Staring at it rather than at Sabella this time, "So that's good, right? Friends. It only took months, and now we're about to join wings and go... every which way."

Sabs laughs and tips back her glass again. "Right? I'm not sure that I understand why they want our input, when they're just going to choose whoever they want for whatever wings they want anyway." She lifts her shoulders in a helpless kind of wonder before popping another bit into her mouth. "Oh, sure. Going every which way won't keep him off my back, I'm sure. He stumbled on me all the way down south at some random bar." She gives her head an incredulous little shake.

"What, they won't be floating around all, 'Oh, I hope Sabella picks me, pick meeeee!'?!" Telavi looks so ''stricken''. So of course she has to curl forward enough to sit up, because beer will fix that. She drinks, then peers over the edge of her glass. "Are you still wanting Glacier after, you know, everything? And what are the chances, a random bar like that? ''Ghislaith'' wouldn't tattle on you," though she glances toward the ledge anyway, just in case.

"Oh, is that how they're ''supposed'' to be? Well. For one, I'm not flying in any wing that doesn't have at least a hot wingsecond. So that eliminates more than half of them." Sabella has her priorities straight, don't worry guys. "Yeah, I think so. Jo's in that wing and I'll know her at ''least.'' Opportunity in chaos, you know?" That's what she sees Glacier as right now anyway. "I don't know. I think it was just a freak thing, but still. That's his way, ever-present."

"So who's the hot one in Glacier?" Telavi promptly teases her high-and-mighty wingleader of the month. ''Months.'' "Definitely. I'll miss you, though. But at least we'll have ''different'' wingmates to complain about, right? And maybe a hot wingsecond competition. There should be some of those." The thought curves up her mouth, and then she's glancing at Sabella again. Never mind ever-present right now, "I thought it was sweet, what you told her. I hope, I really hope she's... well, not as miserable, anyway."

"That's a secret that I'll keep to my grave." Sabella swears, pulling her fist closer to her chest in emphasis of it. "Oh, you won't miss me. We're going to see each other all the time. Maybe we could swap hot wingmate stories." It brings a smile to her lips, definitely. Taking another swallow of her beer she looks over her glass towards Telavi, "I hope so too. I felt terrible, I haven't told E'sren. I don't think he'd be happy that I didn't put that letter back, that I lied to her. I don't know." She purses her lips briefly before shaking her head quickly. "K'zin told me what he's been ''too'' tired. Is that really why you guys stopped- you know?"

Telavi has to lower her lashes for a moment of solemn silence for ''that'' vow, though it might also look suspiciously like batting them. When Sabs has moved on, she points out, "That would require hot wingmates. I want," and then she gets this ''look'' that she gets sometimes, like this is about to become a speech, except for the moment she tables it because Sabs is going on, and ''E'sren'' and all. "Oh, he probably wouldn't, but don't traders ''bury'' dead people or something?" She says this like it's really quite strange. "But you didn't see him going out and burying this one, right? ''I'' don't want anyone lying to me, and I don't think you would either, but sometimes," sometimes a girl has to drink her beer, so Telavi does. And then Sabs keeps talking and Telavi has to drink ''more'', right before rolling her eyes. "He's... ''ugh'', I don't even. And I don't want to be that girl who's all, 'So what did he ''say''? ''Exactly''?' Except for the part where now ''I totally am'', and also did you ask hm or did he just come out with it like passing the beer or something?"

A speech. Sabella tips her head forward, all ready to listen to whatever this speech is about to involve. But then, oh, they did sort of change the conversation so she clears her throat. "Oh, I-" She has to think about it. "I guess they probably do bury their dead. Is that really so strange? At Crom they mostly just burned them, I don't think they wanted the bodies taking up all that extra space. Maybe the traders burn them too." It's obvious she hasn't given this a tremendous amount of thought. "He would just bring it up randomly throughout the conversation. I generally just sort of didn't respond to it?" That's almost an apologetic look there, as if perhaps in hindsight she realizes she should have been trying to ferret out more information. "He just said you weren't sleeping together anymore. Then he also said it was his fault because he can't keep it up or keep going because he's ''tired''."

"But then they'd bury the note too, and what good is that," Telavi points out, might have pointed out more except it gets tucked away with the still-waiting rant. " Now she's looking through her fingers. "Bring it... up." She probably shouldn't be laughing at that turn of phrase, but she is ''anyway''. "I don't blame you, because what do you even say to something like that? Imagine if I hadn't really talked to E'sren in months and then suddenly we're having lunch and he happens to say, 'You know, Telavi, Sabs and me...'" Telavi has to rub her eyes as though she's scrubbing them, and she even has to ''set down her beer'' to do it. At least now she can eye Sabs properly, weighing what to say. Finally, since Sabs had, yes, ''brought it up'', "You know how sometimes it doesn't work out the way it normally does but it's fun anyway, or even when it's not, you just have yourself a nap and have a good time next time? Well, ''someone'' decided to start beating himself up over it and of course that made it ''worse'' because he kept worrying and that made me worry that he'd be worrying and ''ugh''. But his disappearing, that's all on him. Him and his ''little harper girl'', remember when he got that black eye?"

When Telavi laughs, so does Sabella. She doesn't put her beer down, instead she takes another long swallow while she listens to Telavi move from point to point. "I just said that I assumed it wouldn't be life-long. I mean- What ''can'' you say to that? Meanwhile he spent a good deal of the time trying to dredge up that old fight again. It stopped being a big deal a long time ago, to me at least. I don't ''think'' I've treated him any differently from anyone else." Her shoulders lift with a degress of helplessness then. "That sounds like K'zin, that he'd make something totally normal into a big deal. I think that sort of thing happens to everyone now and again? But." What does she know, really? As for the other thing, she looks a bit perplexed. "That was when- I didn't really keep up. A door assaulted him? Or was it the little harper girl? Is she really a ''a big harper girl''?"

"Right. Exactly right. But that fight, really?" Tela sidles over as best she can without spilling what's left of her beer, the better to nudge Sabella's knee in commiseration. That ''helplessness''. From ''Sabs''. "A pattern. You're right. That makes me feel a little better, anyway. I was starting to feel pretty un-pretty and also un-''believed''," that last actually sounding ''worse'', from ''Tela'', her voice small and tired like that. "Talk about frustrating. I don't know the girl. She might not even be a girl. Tired is one thing, we ''know'' tired, there's a reason I don't go trolling every night... but when it's another girl and you've had enough, just say that, you know? Whatever. Let's just say that I'zech was looking pretty fine for awhile there. And then there were the fights, and looking pissy all the time." Not I'zech.

"It was over six months ago, it's to the point where I barely remember what it was about anymore." Perhaps not quite that easily, but she's put it behind her. She nudges that knee back and tips her beer to her lips, looking over the rim of the glass to Telavi. "No, I don't think you were part of any of that problem. It's all in K'zin's head, you're better off just giving him some space for awhile. So that you can think clearly about it, chase a different skirt." Sabs says it with a quirky grin, "Just for awhile? Come on. The part of weyrlinghood you're going to miss his looking at him." She reaches over and grabs some of that fried food, munching. "Fights too? He has a lot of girls on the side. One day he's going to wake up and be the father to a lot of children. All at once." She pops the fingers of one hand, like an explosion.

Six moths ago, ''forever''. Telavi reaches her own glass over for a refill, visibly buoyed by Sabs' take on the whole thing, to the point of showing a hint of dimple at the mention of skirt-chasing. She even agrees of I'zech, "''Fine'', more than awhile," whether it's true or not, and it might just be. But her laugh at the children-popping doesn't seem as entertained as perhaps the quip deserves, glancing away for a moment. "Sabs?" she asks then. "If you wanted to get something back to someone, without them realizing how it got back to them or that it had anything to do with you at all... how would ''you'' do it?"

Sabella laughs at that admittance, dusting her fingers off on her pants to rid her hands of some of the food-grime. We mentioned how classy she is at this moment, right? Okay, good. The question catches her by surprise and she purses her lips, looking maybe a smidgen confused. "If I wanted to get something back ''to'' them?" Not ''at'' them, the question seems to imply. "It depends on what it was. If I didn't want anyone to know that I was involved I would make sure they didn't see me or I'd make sure that I wasn't there. Ask an uninvolved third party."

"Right," Tela confirms, and not with surprise at the alternative interpretation. She wiggles her fingers at Sabella's pants like she'd do the same thing, but settles for the non-greasy-looking parts of the napkin wrapper. "What if there were, let's say, a limited number of people who could have acquired this particular thing, and it's probably thought to have gone missing? ...I'd tell you, you know, if there were such a thing, if it weren't that you'd then have to know." Silver thread girls, they learned ''all about'' plausible deniability.

"Right, well. I'd make sure that no one saw me and I'd find a way to make it look like it was someone else. If there was a way to put off suspicion onto another person, then I'd do it." Maybe not surprising, "It's not as if they would get in a tremendous amount of trouble, yeah?" As for the plausible deniability thing, her lips twist and she holds back the smile. "Of course."

"There might be guilt. And possible pissiness. No, a definite chance of pissiness." Telavi lets Sabella see her looking at Sabella's ceiling, quite as though there might be dark clouds hanging ''right overhead''. "I think we better add to the list, Sabs. Not just hot wingmates, but also hot non-pissy wingmates. Hot, unattached, non-pissy, non-crazy, non-moody, non-hitting-people wingmates. Or at least only hitting awful people, that would work too, or maybe that thing where the guys clobber each other but in a fun way, without actually crying, and possibly ripping shirts that I didn't like anyway. How does that sound?"

"Well, people get pissy over just about anything. So if you were to do something that pissed someone off, they'll get over it eventually." Sabella doesn't seem terribly worried about anyone getting upset. "Is there even a wing like that? I'm not so sure that it exists." She grins, watching wryly and then shaking her head. "Why don't we just take over one? Then when ''we'' get to choose weyrlings and transferring riders, we can pick the ''right'' ones?" As the speech moves along she quips, "Or just without shirts. Maybe some mud?"

"''Some'' people hold ''grudges''." Telavi sounds intimately acquainted with this. Of course, Telavi might be one of those people herself. She grins at Sabs all the more for it. "Your idea is brilliant, my dear wingleader. Let's do that. Without shirts is fine by me, though mud is so... ''muddy'', maybe in summertime. Wrestling? What do you think of wrestling? And," likely they can go along in that vein for a good long time.

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Logs:And then he says-

2013-07-10T15:54:05Z

Zian: Created page with "{{ Log | who = Telavi, Sabella | where = Sabella's Weyr | what = The girl's stay in and gossip (who's surprised?), drink beer and discuss giving things back. | when = Day 16, ..."

{{ Log
| who = Telavi, Sabella
| where = Sabella's Weyr
| what = The girl's stay in and gossip (who's surprised?), drink beer and discuss giving things back.
| when = Day 16, month 3, turn 32
| gamedate = 2013.07.10
| quote =
| weather = Snowy
| categories =
| mentions = E'sren, K'zin, I'zech
| ooc =
| icons = sabella smile.png, telavi disney.jpg
| log =

Blue (and orange, peach, gold and crimson, though less of them here, out of the weather) continue on through the archway between ledge and weyr, finally giving way to the natural grey stone of the weyr's interior. Ah, quiet: no wind, no noise, no eye-blinding colors. Inside, the weyr is all soft shades and creamy furniture, its pale wood furniture clothed in natural hues, with driftwood and thin linen accents covering the many storage alcoves, and the lovely rounded sleeping room. The hearth is likewise sleek and smooth, its short mantle holding a simple stone vase, presently empty of flowers. Only along the edges of the dragon wallow near the door does orange explode again, matched by citrus-hued sacks full of sand for resting a dragon's tired chin.

----

The weyr renovations were completed some time ago, so it can be imagined that hanging out at Sabella's place is actually kind of nice. It's really soothing in creams and cool accent colors. Tonight is a girl's night, where the couch has been abandoned for the floor and the little table in front of it as been moved aside. Beer and some light finger foods that were pilfered from somewhere are the menu for tonight. "So then he says, 'You blew my cover' but he's totally talking in this picked up fake accent. And he's wearing these clothe that are all patchy. I think Rasavyth is putting him up to this stuff." And thus concludes Sabs' short-story version of the initial meeting with K'zin. Having not covered anything that's ''secret'' or the bits he dropped about his relationship with Telavi.

Reposing upon that floor, her bare feet tucked up on the seat of the couch when they aren't in the air over her head, Telavi had ''started out'' tossing those puffy little fried things into her mouth and not worrying too much about missing. By now she's up on one elbow, though, just staring. "Seriously? ''Seriously?'' Was it even a good fake accent?" While she's at it, she tosses one of the fallen fried bits at Sabella, just because she can.

Sabella tries to catch it with her mouth, but doesn't. It lands somewhere in her lap and she plucks it up, eating it. She's very classy like that. "''Seriously.'' It was alright. I guess it was good enough for the bartender, but he didn't seem like he was paying attention anyway." She reaches for her beer and drinks some down before picking up another bit and tossing it at Telavi now. "But I guess we're finally going to be friends again.""

"Well, that's something." Though Tela's mouth purses up, like it can't decide whether to giggle or go the dubious route, right before she just plain brightens. "...You know, that could be another of our taglines, actually. 'Shadowing FrozeMyAssOff Wing wasn't so exciting, but it was good enough for the bartender.'" She gapes her mouth fish-wide, snapping for the bit Sabs has tossed her, only to have to pry it out from her hair when it bounces off. Staring at it rather than at Sabella this time, "So that's good, right? Friends. It only took months, and now we're about to join wings and go... every which way."

Sabs laughs and tips back her glass again. "Right? I'm not sure that I understand why they want our input, when they're just going to choose whoever they want for whatever wings they want anyway." She lifts her shoulders in a helpless kind of wonder before popping another bit into her mouth. "Oh, sure. Going every which way won't keep him off my back, I'm sure. He stumbled on me all the way down south at some random bar." She gives her head an incredulous little shake.

"What, they won't be floating around all, 'Oh, I hope Sabella picks me, pick meeeee!'?!" Telavi looks so ''stricken''. So of course she has to curl forward enough to sit up, because beer will fix that. She drinks, then peers over the edge of her glass. "Are you still wanting Glacier after, you know, everything? And what are the chances, a random bar like that? ''Ghislaith'' wouldn't tattle on you," though she glances toward the ledge anyway, just in case.

"Oh, is that how they're ''supposed'' to be? Well. For one, I'm not flying in any wing that doesn't have at least a hot wingsecond. So that eliminates more than half of them." Sabella has her priorities straight, don't worry guys. "Yeah, I think so. Jo's in that wing and I'll know her at ''least.'' Opportunity in chaos, you know?" That's what she sees Glacier as right now anyway. "I don't know. I think it was just a freak thing, but still. That's his way, ever-present."

"So who's the hot one in Glacier?" Telavi promptly teases her high-and-mighty wingleader of the month. ''Months.'' "Definitely. I'll miss you, though. But at least we'll have ''different'' wingmates to complain about, right? And maybe a hot wingsecond competition. There should be some of those." The thought curves up her mouth, and then she's glancing at Sabella again. Never mind ever-present right now, "I thought it was sweet, what you told her. I hope, I really hope she's... well, not as miserable, anyway."

"That's a secret that I'll keep to my grave." Sabella swears, pulling her fist closer to her chest in emphasis of it. "Oh, you won't miss me. We're going to see each other all the time. Maybe we could swap hot wingmate stories." It brings a smile to her lips, definitely. Taking another swallow of her beer she looks over her glass towards Telavi, "I hope so too. I felt terrible, I haven't told E'sren. I don't think he'd be happy that I didn't put that letter back, that I lied to her. I don't know." She purses her lips briefly before shaking her head quickly. "K'zin told me what he's been ''too'' tired. Is that really why you guys stopped- you know?"

Telavi has to lower her lashes for a moment of solemn silence for ''that'' vow, though it might also look suspiciously like batting them. When Sabs has moved on, she points out, "That would require hot wingmates. I want," and then she gets this ''look'' that she gets sometimes, like this is about to become a speech, except for the moment she tables it because Sabs is going on, and ''E'sren'' and all. "Oh, he probably wouldn't, but don't traders ''bury'' dead people or something?" She says this like it's really quite strange. "But you didn't see him going out and burying this one, right? ''I'' don't want anyone lying to me, and I don't think you would either, but sometimes," sometimes a girl has to drink her beer, so Telavi does. And then Sabs keeps talking and Telavi has to drink ''more'', right before rolling her eyes. "He's... ''ugh'', I don't even. And I don't want to be that girl who's all, 'So what did he ''say''? ''Exactly''?' Except for the part where now ''I totally am'', and also did you ask hm or did he just come out with it like passing the beer or something?"

A speech. Sabella tips her head forward, all ready to listen to whatever this speech is about to involve. But then, oh, they did sort of change the conversation so she clears her throat. "Oh, I-" She has to think about it. "I guess they probably do bury their dead. Is that really so strange? At Crom they mostly just burned them, I don't think they wanted the bodies taking up all that extra space. Maybe the traders burn them too." It's obvious she hasn't given this a tremendous amount of thought. "He would just bring it up randomly throughout the conversation. I generally just sort of didn't respond to it?" That's almost an apologetic look there, as if perhaps in hindsight she realizes she should have been trying to ferret out more information. "He just said you weren't sleeping together anymore. Then he also said it was his fault because he can't keep it up or keep going because he's ''tired''."

"But then they'd bury the note too, and what good is that," Telavi points out, might have pointed out more except it gets tucked away with the still-waiting rant. " Now she's looking through her fingers. "Bring it... up." She probably shouldn't be laughing at that turn of phrase, but she is ''anyway''. "I don't blame you, because what do you even say to something like that? Imagine if I hadn't really talked to E'sren in months and then suddenly we're having lunch and he happens to say, 'You know, Telavi, Sabs and me...'" Telavi has to rub her eyes as though she's scrubbing them, and she even has to ''set down her beer'' to do it. At least now she can eye Sabs properly, weighing what to say. Finally, since Sabs had, yes, ''brought it up'', "You know how sometimes it doesn't work out the way it normally does but it's fun anyway, or even when it's not, you just have yourself a nap and have a good time next time? Well, ''someone'' decided to start beating himself up over it and of course that made it ''worse'' because he kept worrying and that made me worry that he'd be worrying and ''ugh''. But his disappearing, that's all on him. Him and his ''little harper girl'', remember when he got that black eye?"

When Telavi laughs, so does Sabella. She doesn't put her beer down, instead she takes another long swallow while she listens to Telavi move from point to point. "I just said that I assumed it wouldn't be life-long. I mean- What ''can'' you say to that? Meanwhile he spent a good deal of the time trying to dredge up that old fight again. It stopped being a big deal a long time ago, to me at least. I don't ''think'' I've treated him any differently from anyone else." Her shoulders lift with a degress of helplessness then. "That sounds like K'zin, that he'd make something totally normal into a big deal. I think that sort of thing happens to everyone now and again? But." What does she know, really? As for the other thing, she looks a bit perplexed. "That was when- I didn't really keep up. A door assaulted him? Or was it the little harper girl? Is she really a ''a big harper girl''?"

"Right. Exactly right. But that fight, really?" Tela sidles over as best she can without spilling what's left of her beer, the better to nudge Sabella's knee in commiseration. That ''helplessness''. From ''Sabs''. "A pattern. You're right. That makes me feel a little better, anyway. I was starting to feel pretty un-pretty and also un-''believed''," that last actually sounding ''worse'', from ''Tela'', her voice small and tired like that. "Talk about frustrating. I don't know the girl. She might not even be a girl. Tired is one thing, we ''know'' tired, there's a reason I don't go trolling every night... but when it's another girl and you've had enough, just say that, you know? Whatever. Let's just say that I'zech was looking pretty fine for awhile there. And then there were the fights, and looking pissy all the time." Not I'zech.

"It was over six months ago, it's to the point where I barely remember what it was about anymore." Perhaps not quite that easily, but she's put it behind her. She nudges that knee back and tips her beer to her lips, looking over the rim of the glass to Telavi. "No, I don't think you were part of any of that problem. It's all in K'zin's head, you're better off just giving him some space for awhile. So that you can think clearly about it, chase a different skirt." Sabs says it with a quirky grin, "Just for awhile? Come on. The part of weyrlinghood you're going to miss his looking at him." She reaches over and grabs some of that fried food, munching. "Fights too? He has a lot of girls on the side. One day he's going to wake up and be the father to a lot of children. All at once." She pops the fingers of one hand, like an explosion.

Six moths ago, ''forever''. Telavi reaches her own glass over for a refill, visibly buoyed by Sabs' take on the whole thing, to the point of showing a hint of dimple at the mention of skirt-chasing. She even agrees of I'zech, "''Fine'', more than awhile," whether it's true or not, and it might just be. But her laugh at the children-popping doesn't seem as entertained as perhaps the quip deserves, glancing away for a moment. "Sabs?" she asks then. "If you wanted to get something back to someone, without them realizing how it got back to them or that it had anything to do with you at all... how would ''you'' do it?"

Sabella laughs at that admittance, dusting her fingers off on her pants to rid her hands of some of the food-grime. We mentioned how classy she is at this moment, right? Okay, good. The question catches her by surprise and she purses her lips, looking maybe a smidgen confused. "If I wanted to get something back ''to'' them?" Not ''at'' them, the question seems to imply. "It depends on what it was. If I didn't want anyone to know that I was involved I would make sure they didn't see me or I'd make sure that I wasn't there. Ask an uninvolved third party."

"Right," Tela confirms, and not with surprise at the alternative interpretation. She wiggles her fingers at Sabella's pants like she'd do the same thing, but settles for the non-greasy-looking parts of the napkin wrapper. "What if there were, let's say, a limited number of people who could have acquired this particular thing, and it's probably thought to have gone missing? ...I'd tell you, you know, if there were such a thing, if it weren't that you'd then have to know." Silver thread girls, they learned ''all about'' plausible deniability.

"Right, well. I'd make sure that no one saw me and I'd find a way to make it look like it was someone else. If there was a way to put off suspicion onto another person, then I'd do it." Maybe not surprising, "It's not as if they would get in a tremendous amount of trouble, yeah?" As for the plausible deniability thing, her lips twist and she holds back the smile. "Of course."

"There might be guilt. And possible pissiness. No, a definite chance of pissiness." Telavi lets Sabella see her looking at Sabella's ceiling, quite as though there might be dark clouds hanging ''right overhead''. "I think we better add to the list, Sabs. Not just hot wingmates, but also hot non-pissy wingmates. Hot, unattached, non-pissy, non-crazy, non-moody, non-hitting-people wingmates. Or at least only hitting awful people, that would work too, or maybe that thing where the guys clobber each other but in a fun way, without actually crying, and possibly ripping shirts that I didn't like anyway. How does that sound?"

"Well, people get pissy over just about anything. So if you were to do something that pissed someone off, they'll get over it eventually." Sabella doesn't seem terribly worried about anyone getting upset. "Is there even a wing like that? I'm not so sure that it exists." She grins, watching wryly and then shaking her head. "Why don't we just take over one? Then when ''we'' get to choose weyrlings and transferring riders, we can pick the ''right'' ones?" As the speech moves along she quips, "Or just without shirts. Maybe some mud?"

"''Some'' people hold ''grudges''." Telavi sounds intimately acquainted with this. Of course, Telavi might be one of those people herself. She grins at Sabs all the more for it. "Your idea is brilliant, my dear wingleader. Let's do that. Without shirts is fine by me, though mud is so... ''muddy'', maybe in summertime. Wrestling? What do you think of wrestling? And," likely they can go along in that vein for a good long time.

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Logs talk:Desperate Times, Desperate Measures

2013-07-07T03:01:16Z

Zian: Comment provided by Zian - via ArticleComments extension

<noinclude>Comments on "[[Logs:Desperate Times, Desperate Measures]]"
----- __NOEDITSECTION__</noinclude>

[[Aishani/Comments|Aishani]] ([[User:Brieli|Brieli]] ([[User talk:Brieli|talk]])) left a comment on Sat, 06 Jul 2013 17:40:46 GMT.

<comment date="2013-07-06T17:40:46Z" name="Aishani" signature="[[User:Brieli|Brieli]] ([[User talk:Brieli|talk]])">
Love.
</comment>
[[K'zin/Comments|K'zin]] ([[User:K'zin|K'zin]] ([[User talk:K'zin|talk]])) left a comment on Sat, 06 Jul 2013 20:49:19 GMT.

<comment date="2013-07-06T20:49:19Z" name="K'zin" signature="[[User:K&#39;zin|K&#39;zin]] ([[User talk:K&#39;zin|talk]])">
<3 (SPY! TRAITOR! Etc, etc.) <3
</comment>
[[Zian/Comments|Zian]] ([[User:Zian|Zian]] ([[User talk:Zian|talk]])) left a comment on Sun, 07 Jul 2013 03:01:16 GMT.

<comment date="2013-07-07T03:01:16Z" name="Zian" signature="[[User:Zian|Zian]] ([[User talk:Zian|talk]])">
<3 (Mwuahahahahah! Etc... Mustache twirl~) <3
</comment>

Logs:Desperate Times, Desperate Measures

2013-07-06T04:41:30Z

Zian:

{{ Log
| who = K'del, Sabella
| where = Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Sabella offers K'del a less-than-legal solution to his K'zin-problem. It says a lot about how far K'del has fallen that... he goes for it.
| when = Day 1, Month 3, Turn 32
| gamedate = 2013.07.05
| quote = "If a person were to want to see something for instance. But another person were to get to it first and replace that information with something more benign?"
| weather =
| categories = Divided Leadership
| mentions = Akadri, B'ren, Devaki, K'zin, Sisha
| ooc =
| icons = k'del profile.jpg, sabella shoulder.jpg
| log = Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr

----

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

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

----

There was another wingleader meeting, this morning - another disaster of one, really, if a person is being honest. K'del got shouted down by B'ren, Sisha scowled a lot, and no one went home happy. But that was hours ago: now, K'del is sitting alone in one of the booths, drawing his (and Cadejoth's) initials into the condensation with the kind of concentration one would expect of something, well, ''difficult''. It's a little before dinner, and the Snowasis is crowded, though less raucous than it might be if the supplies situation were different.

There really hasn't been a wingleader meeting that hasn't been something of a disaster. Sabella was at this one with the others, but she was quiet and out of the way during the shouting. It's not as if they're interested in the weyrlings now anyway. While tonight is crowded but not too crowded, there is some competition for seats. Which could be why K'del finds himself beset by a group of girls, the greenrider being just a beat faster than the rest. She slips into the spot across from him. The others, maybe intimidated by the former Weyrleader or just aiming for a better spot to stake out reluctantly back away. "Hello? I'm not interrupting something all consuming I hope. Can I sit here?" She's ''already'' sitting.

K'del's bemusement for the sudden onslaught of girls is accompanied by the wiping out of the artwork on his glass with the back of his hand. He turns his attention from the retreating group and onto Sabella-the-successful, his brows inching up ever so slightly. "Surely you know a man in the midst of art-creation when you see one," he answers, obviously not serious, though he's also not especially smiling. "But since you're here already... Sabella. Cirrus Wingleader."

"Oh, was that what it was?" Sabella returns with an air of seriousness. She cants her head and tries to get a teasing glimpse at the side of his glass. But it's been wiped clean already and it's not as if she was expecting anything, truly. Instead she delivers an infectious sort of smile as she pulls her own drink closer. "You remembered my name, I'm surprised. The wingleader meetings have been chaotic."

"Make an effort to remember these things when I can," answers K'del, with a shrug and - finally! - a smile, as he turns his glass, and draws it up to his mouth so that he can take a sip. "Though," he adds, after swallowing, "you're not wrong on the chaos. Imagine you didn't expect ''Wingleaders'' would act so much like children."

Sabella has an easy shrug for that commentary. "They're men and women just like any others. It wasn't entirely surprising." Her smile twists into something that's a little quirkier, more amused. "People everywhere are largely the same. Scrambling to get to the top, ignoring the other opportunities along the way. Becoming blinded by some ideal they're striving to achieve, some truth they want uncovered for reasons they don't understand. At the cost of consequences they can't comprehend yet."

As answers go, K'del seems to find that one insightful, perhaps enough so that his expression is approving, maybe even quietly impressed. As she continues, however, something hardens about the corners of his mouth, something that he's quick to try and cover up with another lift of his glass. "That's true," he says, finally. "Blind to anything but the narrow perspective of supposed truth they've decided on."

She's soft still, at least for all intents and purposes on the outside. The greenrider takes a polite sip from her glass, curling her fingers around the outside and pulling it in closely towards herself. Sabs tips her head in agreement on his last, "Exactly. People like that can be very destructive. Especially if they were to start encouraging others to engage in similiar activities."

"Because…" K'del hesitates, worrying at his lip with his front teeth. "They're not necessarily seeing the bigger picture. And instead of helping things…" He's tentative, working around the edges of the issue rather than diving in to what he presumably must suspect is ''really'' the topic of conversation. "One hopes that other people might be able to see more, because they're not in the middle of it when it begins. Even if they can't talk sense to a person." He's watching her, very carefully.

While he's tentative, she's patient. Not exhibiting any signs of wanting to rush along, she's simply comfortable and enjoying her drink while he explores the edges. "Well, I find that a person's idea of 'helping' to be subject to their own personal agenda." Sabs inches a hand up and runs her finger along the rim of the cup. "So talking sense isn't always feasible. Sometimes if they're wandering down the wrong path, they just need a ''little'' push in the right direction."

K'del's nod is minute - careful. "And we all have our own agendas; our own idea of what 'helping' is, and isn't. None of us ''really'' see the whole picture… not of everything, anyway. Just bits." Enough bits, his expression says, though he's still being careful. "What kind of pushes are useful, do you think?" he wonders, lifting his glass again, though this time he doesn't drink from it: he might need to take his gaze off of her, to do that, and right now he doesn't seem to want to do that.

"The whole picture isn't always helpful to everyone, they don't all need to know every detail. Some things are meant to be kept quiet." Sabs shrugs her shoulders, she can understand that it seems. But more importantly, "Oh, simple misdirection. If a person were to want to see something for instance. But another person were to get to it first and replace that information with something more benign? That might be enough. At least to buy some time and distance from an issue."

K'del opens his mouth, his gaze narrowing just slightly... but not in an overtly negative kind of way, though there's quiet suspicion there without question. "Speak plainly," he instructs, a moment later. "You're talking about K'zin. Is it... records you're talking about? ''The'' records?" And then, "Why? More than the obvious."

"Yes, he wants those records. He believes they exist and he's going to look for them and find them if they do. Because he's a dog with some sort of bone. He wants the truth of it out there." Sabella leans forward despite the quiet air of suspicion and leans her elbows onto the table. "I'm more pragmatic than that. I don't care about what you have to hide; it's none of my concern. But I can get to them first, put in an altered copy and leave without anyone knowing. It can say whatever you want it to. Then you can have the real ones to keep or destroy." Of course there's a price, always some sort of price. While she doesn't say it explicitly, it's inferred.

"How will you get to them?" Will. Not would. "They're in the restricted area; behind locked doors." K'del is back to worrying his lip in between words, but he hasn't run away from it: his brows are furrowed, his expression uncertain, but he's facing it head-on. He nods, just once.

Sabs props one of her hands under her chin, leaning into it. "Locks can be opened and not everything is as carefully contained as we'd like to think it is. There's always an opening, I can find it or create one temporarily." As if she might suspect that sounds ominous, "That's not my go-to move, of course."

"No, of course not." The K'del of once-upon-a-time may have been horrified; this K'del, today's K'del, just looks tired, and resigned. "The reports can stay, mostly. Most of what's in there. There ''was'' an investigation, and most of it is fine, not problematic at all. But there's an added report, from me, added to the back of it. ''That'' needs to come out of it." His tone is brittle, as he relates this information. "What will it cost me?"

"That's simple then. I can just remove it, it doesn't even really need to be replaced. Unless someone would notice it wasn't there?" Sabella prompts, because she needs to know that if she's going to do the job correctly after all. As for the topic of a price, she names something that sounds reasonable for what she's suggesting. If he were familiar with that kind of thing. "For you, I'll delay any collection until I've actually done what I'm supposed to do."

K'del shakes his head: no one will miss it. "There's no one left," he says. "Who would know it was supposed to be there, not unless you interview the Harper and… he wouldn't talk." It sounds like he's trying to convince himself of that, though he sounds surer when he adds, "Harpers don't talk about their investigations." It's clear he's ''not'' familiar with the cost structures for such things, but he nods, accepting her price without question. "And if you get caught, you know nothing about me. I'll deny all knowledge."

She doesn't know a thing about Harpers and whether or not they'd talk, instead she smiles easily (and perhaps comfortingly) for the convincing he's trying to work on himself. "Of course. I wouldn't dream of dropping your name." Sabs doesn't seem surprised by that take of his, instead taking a moment to enjoy another sip of her drink. "Deal."

K'del's breath escapes; a low sigh, accompanied by closed eyes. As they open again, he nods. "Deal," he echoes. "Do we… swear in blood or something? You'll realise, I'm sure, that this is not my usual… sphere of operation." Desperate times, etc. "You're not going to sell me out, are you? Though, I imagine you wouldn't tell me, even if you were."

"Yes, I keep a knife in my back pocket for just these sorts of occasions." Sabella informs him seriously, before allowing a hint of that infectious smile to return. "I know that it's not. Don't worry, I'm not thinking badly of you." For stooping to her level? Or for not being comfortable with it? Hard to distinguish. "If I was just into the information to sell you out, I'd skip you entirely in the process. But you're my customer now, there's a certain loyalty there."

"Honour amongst thieves," K'del supposes, twisting his mouth into a smile that isn't especially ''happy'', though he acknowledges it with a forward tilt of his head. "All right, then. Guess I've no choice but to trust you… and I do, I think. For better or for worse. Can you… tell me, if he thinks to try and go talk to Devaki? I'll pay you for that, too."

"I can." Sabella takes a breath, her glance directed at the ceiling briefly. "I don't know if he's thought of it yet. He means to go to the Harper Hall, to see their records. To the Healer Hall as well. He wanted to me talk to a woman named Akadri. But I haven't done that." Instead she came and found K'del. Her expression is gently thoughtful, "I could always say that I spoke with her."

None of this seems to surprise K'del, who nods. "He's… thorough, in his way. Perhaps he'll be smart enough to realise that talking to Devaki is a bad idea, given present relations." His words are thoughtful, and, despite himself, there's ''something'' in his tone that suggests continued affection, however troubled, for the weyrling in question. "Akadri. Talk to her if you want to. Or don't. She's full of conspiracy theories, all of which are difficult to believe: nothing she says will make a difference, I reckon. No doubt ''you'' can tell the difference."

"He's not a bad kind of guy. Just once he's decided something, that's about all there is to it." Sabella shrugs just then, a quick roll of her eyes. Believe her, she knows all about it. Don't worry. "Something to keep in mind then. Maybe I will or won't." The tin-foil hat woman seems to have fallen by the wayside for now and she nods once, a quick smile for his last. "Likely or else I wouldn't be very good."

"Agreed," says K'del. "He means well." He gives Sabella a short nod, biting some dry skin off his lip, then concludes, "And it'd be bad luck for me if you ''weren't'' any good. No - that sounds good. So." He pauses, reaching for his glass again. "Now's the point at which I tell you all about flying with Taiga, and how we should convince you to fly with us, afterwards. Since, obviously, we've been talking about something like that for all this time."

She hmms in agreement on his assessment of K'zin, nodding just a little. Close to making some sort of witty quip on the next bit about being 'any good', Sabs laughs instead. She goes along with it easily, hardly missing a beat. "Alright, then you tell me all about Taiga. Why I would want to fly with the lot of you, though honestly it's not as if it would take a lot of convincing. Considering the other options lately." She lifts her glass and gives the Snowasis at large a tight wave as if it were the stand-in for this morning's Wingleader meeting. And just to make this all seem actually authentic she'll stick around for some time and listen to his pitch.

And he'll make it a good one… though he doesn't seem to be expecting anything as a result of it. "Give it some thought," he suggests, at the end of it. And, "No doubt I'll see you around, Sabella. Good luck." With the rest of weyrlinghood, ''obviously''.

"Oh, ''certainly.''" Sabella enthuses with a certain girlish element to her voice. "Thank you, sir." She flashes that smile at him, dimples and everything when she eventually makes her escape from his booth. Her drink has barely been touched and it's not really done when she leaves it at the bar and slips out through the door.

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Logs talk:The Flights Of Insults And Punches

2013-07-02T05:42:34Z

Zian:

<noinclude>Comments on "[[Logs:The Flights Of Insults And Punches]]"
----- __NOEDITSECTION__</noinclude>

[[Zian/Comments|Zian]] ([[User:Zian|Zian]] ([[User talk:Zian|talk]])) left a comment on Tue, 02 Jul 2013 05:42:19 GMT.

<comment date="2013-07-02T05:42:19Z" name="Zian" signature="[[User:Zian|Zian]] ([[User talk:Zian|talk]])">
I'll take this one off your hands too.
</comment>

Logs talk:The Flights Of Insults And Punches

2013-07-02T05:42:19Z

Zian: Comment provided by Zian - via ArticleComments extension

Logs:To blow cover or to not blow cover, that is the question.

2013-07-02T05:40:12Z

Zian: Created page with "{{ Log | who = K'zin, Sabella | where = Seaside Hold Tavern, Southern Continent | what = The weyrlings run into each in an unsuspected place. Old hurts are mended, minor plott..."

{{ Log
| who = K'zin, Sabella
| where = Seaside Hold Tavern, Southern Continent
| what = The weyrlings run into each in an unsuspected place. Old hurts are mended, minor plotting begins.
| when = Day 17, month 2, turn 32
| gamedate = 2013.07.02
| quote = Big jungle felines? Bugs? A healer-gone-rogue that wants to perform experimental surgery on people but the Hall won't let him so he steals corpses and just happens to find yours?
| weather = Hot, but not humid.
| categories =
| mentions = E'sren, I'kris, K'del, Iolene, Seani, Telavi, N'hax, C'wlin, Quinlys
| ooc =
| icons = k'zin.jpg, sabella handsweater.png
| log =

Seaside Hold Tavern, Southern Continent(#1636R)

On the tip of the Southern Peninsula sits a tiny fishing hold. While the population isn't exactly large, their dockside activity is bustling. There are a number of small taverns that sit along it, catering to sailors and traders. Some of the more run down establishments tend to a rougher crowd. This particular building isn't great but it's not the worst of the lot. The floor is dirty and the lights are dim, but only one out of every 3rd person looks as if they might steal all our marks. Poker is played nightly, drinks are freely flowing and the women- well. You know.

It might be winter up north, but that doesn't mean it's cold down south. In fact it's hot, but somehow not humid. The docks of the little hold are packed out with people. Some are sailors and others are residents of the area, mingling with the transient crowd in the night. Lanterns swaying in the breeze provide some ambient lighting to the darkened streets, illuminating a crowd of men as they stumble out of one of the bars. It's not quite a fight, more a scuffle. Within the bar once a person has passed the brawlers is the dimly lit inside of the tavern, a hub of social activity. Sabella is inside this one tonight, sans her weyrling gear. She'd been talking to an older man at one of the tables, but that conversation seems to be at an end. Looking somewhat disappointed she ends up at the bar counter, ordering a drink and claiming a spot.

Sabella's not the only weyrling playing another part tonight. K'zin's dressed in simple work clothes common to a fishing hold like this one, lots of patches on the trousers made of sail canvas too soft now to be of use in its first calling, rolled up to just below the knee, tied at the waist with a braided rope belt, and a thin, sleeveless, dirty tan shirt on top. He looks like just another dockhand. Skirting the brawl didn't prove too difficult; they were more interested in each other than in someone dodging past. A glance around the room has him missing the familiar face, but soon enough fate has him at the bar, one stool displacing him from being right beside the greenrider. His eyes fall on her, and there is surprise and recognition there, briefly, before it's hidden behind a mask of the casual and mundane. "Pretty lady in want of a drink?" He asks, and his voice, too, is a little different. Still the familiar baritone, but with a vague coloring of the accent common to this section of Southern. Something he couldn't have learned and perfected just today.

Sabella's drink isn't anything special, it's just a mug of ale that's slid across the counter towards her from the older, burly bartender. It's the conversation she's starting up with him that has her almost miss the arrival of K'zin in his undercover clothes. "I came here to visit my cousin, help her out. She just had a baby." The greenrider explains to some question, smiling innocenty at the man. "And after the day I had with her and her family, I need a drink." Pulling the aforementioned towards herself, she stills briefly when the bronzerider's question reaches her ears and she actually registers ''him''. Covering up the lapse, she throws her arms around him and squeals, "Gordo! It's been ''such'' a long time! What are you doing here?" No, ''really''. What are you doing here!?

"Gordo." It's murmured disapprovingly in Sabella's ear when she hugs him, his arms going around the greenrider and by the time that the hug is done there's a grin on his face. "I came to visit my new cousin, of course, and catch up with the family, see what's changed since I was here last." The convincingly bright smile from K'zin is offered to both greenrider and bartender as he asks for the same as Sabella's having. "How's the squalling 'brat?" Despite the choice of words, the tone is all too affectionate.

The bartender looks dubiously between young woman and young man who apparently goes by 'Gordo' in these parts. He goes to get K'zin's drink, largely staying out of their conversation. After all, this place is busy and there are other customers to talk to. "Look at that, ''me'' too. The squalling brat is a squalling brat, as soon as she's settled in I'll be on the first boat of out of here." When the burly man has gone some distance from them and the people around seem suitable occupied, "What are you doing here? Why are you dressed like that?" She asks him, dropping her voice and keeping an eye to their nearby companions.

"It's nice that the brat's got such an interested family," K'zin comments just before Sabella's grilling K'zin, not Gordo. Instead of answering right away, he asks, "If I'm Gordo, who are you? I wouldn't want to blow ''your cover''." The look he gives her is anything but his familiar happy-go-lucky goofy grin, but it's there and then gone only an instant. "I could ask you the same thing." A glance up and down her manner of dress to take it in. Is it so different from off duty Sabs? "You don't expect me to believe you're here visiting a baby and heading ''by boat'' back home?" It's really the boat that gave it away. The baby? Well, that part might be true. To discourage eavesdroppers, there's a hearty laugh from the man, and said slightly louder, just enough to be clear to anyone thinking there might be something to hear, "Who knew women could find the contents of diapers so fascinating. Guess it comes with those maternal sensibilities."

"What can I say, I'm the maternal sort." Sabella chimes in with a bright round of laughter. "I'm no one." He glances down at her clothes and she does the same, they're not the same as at the Weyr, no. They're not riding leathers or anything that would really identify her as ''anything'' at all. In fact well, most people would probably forget having seen her at all that's how indistinguished she appears. "Answering questions with more questions isn't clever, it's obnoxious." She points out, before flashing another broad smile and commenting loudly, "I know, right? It must be the same thing that has them care about a man's clothes. Which, by the way, when was the last time your woman mended yours? She could use some lessons." As an aside, "I didn't blow ''your'' cover, anyway. I could have." It has the tone of 'lets play nice' laced into it.

"As it happens, you did." K'zin contradicts softly, a glance sweeping beyond Sabella around the patrons. "I wasn't ''Gordo'' earlier today. So I won't be staying." The ale is taken as it arrives, a grateful smile to the barkeep and the appropriate marks tendered for his, and, "I'll pay for my cousin's drink too. I guess it's about time I go see the 'brat. Best time to visit a babe is when they're sleeping." The bartender seems to have no interest in K'zin's continued prattle for he moves on to serve another. The look K'zin briefly gives the greenrider lacks the usual warmth, but not particularly cold, just distant. "Assumptions blow a cover as easily as intention. Maybe next time, if you don't assign me an identity when you don't know if I have one or not, I'll stick around to answer your questions." Obnoxious as the question for a question thing might be, leaving without giving any must be worse, mustn't it? His ale is lifted, chugging down the contents, just one more sign that that further obnoxiousness is to shortly follow.

"''As it happens'' it only blew your cover because you don't know what you're doing." Sabella rolls her eyes, "Because it would be so ''difficult'' to explain away as a nickname. But do go on with the dramatics, they suit you. Improvision obviously doesn't." When he continues to 'prattle' on, the greenrider simply laughs and slips off of the stool. And since he doesn't want to play nice, well she doesn't have to either. If she appears phased in any way by his lack of engagement, it doesn't show on her face. Instead, she slips off of her seat and slides her marks across the counter. If he plans on staying there to be obnoxious he's going to have to do it without her, because she's going outside. It got hot in here.

Dragon> Or perhaps this would be better, K'zin dressed as a maid. Or maybe this, K'zin wearing the clothes of a potatoe farmer. The almost-pleasent-but-not-quite silver laughter of Ghislaith's wafts through the breeze. Channeling a few amusing images of the bronze's lifemate towards him. Because he must be around ''somewhere''. (To Rasavyth from Ghislaith)

"Because I'm ''so'' ever going to say that I was chubby as a child," Has Sabella met K'zin? There are some lines one simply cannot cross in life. Muscularly-vain K'zin won't even put a toe near that one. His tone is a touch childish as is the roll of his eyes that he can't seem to help. "And maybe I'd've told you what I was doing or that I was coming if we were anything resembling friends anymore," He points out just before Sabs steps away, "So nice of you to show me the way," He adds for the benefit of-- well, let's face it. No one cares, but he says it as he follows her toward the door.

Dragon> ''Somewhere'', to be sure. It's hard to pinpoint exactly where though. There is a sense of nearness and also a sense being stationary, so he's not winging through the night sky somewhere. The bronze's mind accepts the images, the amusement he shows at them somehow guarded, as though he were only permitting Ghislaith a peek at the whole picture through reflections of slanted windows. In return, through cracks in the panes, he offers in return: Sabella the seaside wench, Sabella the tar-footed sailor. (To Ghislaith from Rasavyth)

"Oh- You are ridiculous." Sabella turns on him as she's walking out the door. "It's ''my'' fault because you can't lie and say you were fat as a child? That's the problem with you." No one important is going to overhear them at this point, not with the crowds and all the noise. She escapes out onto the porch, somehow managing it even though she's backwards stepping. "You didn't have to approach me. You could have stayed away, you came up to me. I didn't blow anything for you, I was minding my own business." By now she's shredded any attempt at hiding anything since it seems moot. "By the way there isn't anything ''here''. This isn't the first I've come here."

Dragon> She's amused, it's true. It comes through in the extra tinkling of that silver against itself. But then there's a sense of nothing, of empty blank space. Ghislaith shows him something there in that blankness that's more than any image of her rider ras a barwench or sailor. And meanwhile she too is somewhere out there, someplace dark and quiet that she's disappeared into. A monster hidden from peering eyes. (To Rasavyth from Ghislaith)

"Well, ma'am," And she's really lucky that he's smart enough not to say 'Wingleader' here, "To tell you the truth, I didn't even notice you until I was ''right'' there. Then what. You recognize me and I act like I don't know you? I figured at that point there was nothing for it but to play along with your story." K'zin has followed, of course, "What do you mean there isn't anything here?" There's a touch of confusion as he steps toward the stairs that lead down onto make-shift boardwalk that exists between establishments and docks. It has him pausing, looking back at the greenrider. "What were ''you'' thinking would be here?"

"And what did you think I was going to do when you plopped yourself next to me and said hello? ''I'' had to cover for staring at you, it would be clear to anyone that I recognized you. You're being impossibly difficult tonight, I don't know what your problem is." She's down the stairs as well, stepping around him when he asks his questions. "I mean that there's nothing here, nothing that's remotely useful anyway." When he asks his clarifying question, Sabs flicks her fingers in the air. "You wanted to go run off after them when Quinlys showed up. You're here for the same thing I am, to find ''them''."

"Yeah, you're right. I am." It's delivered too quickly, too simply. The fight or whatever this is is forfeited too easily for it to be truth. A too convenient lie. "Anyway, since there's nothing here, and you however unintentionally blew my cover, and you want nothing to do with me ''anyway''," Which might, in fact, be the answer to what K'zin's problem is, "I'll just be going." His hands seek pockets that don't exist and settle, fumblingly for hooking into the rope belt as he twists to start walking in -- well, no, not that direction. He takes about three steps before, with an intense blush, he's turning on his heel to go the opposite way, back past where the greenrider was.

The greenrider crosses her arms over her chest as one eyebrow arches upwards, skeptical at what's apparently not quite the truth. Whatever it is. And she won't comment on how she totally didn't blow his cover again for the umpteenth time this conversation. She presses her lips into a line as he fumbles and turns red, then walks away. Then walks backwards again. Sabs stares up at the sky and sighs at length, putting one hand out to grab his arm when he goes to pass her. "Nothing is every just easy with you. Why are you so damn complicated?" Naturally she can't stop him if he wants to get out of there.

The hand on his arm is enough to still him, though his eyes briefly seek the sky in a 'Faranth give me patience' kind of way. Then with a long exhale, K'zin turns to face her. "Because I'm just not a simple person. I never was. It only seemed simple because we agreed not to talk about things. The time I tried in the records, you told me to can it," Basically. He looks her up and down once, "And for the record, your no two plus two math test either. I try, and I'm wrong, I don't try, and I'm wrong, I make you cry, and I'm wrong, which is obvious, but there's no right answer with you, Sabs. At least not one I can find. Nothing is ever easy with you. Why are ''you'' so damn complicated?" His voice doesn't lack intensity, but his volume is kept quiet and exasperation restrained so as not to draw attention of passersby.

Dragon> Curiosity coaxes Rasavyth to peek through his oozy reflection of blinds over the windows, then ooze slithers closer. The nothing. What is it? What is its purpose? Is it a Ras-trap? He exercises caution. (To Ghislaith from Rasavyth)

"Oh, for fucks sake." Her exasperation is evident at least. All I ever wanted was to stop re-hashing the same things over and over. It wasn't about being right or wrong, it was about wanting space." Sabella lets go of his arm to cross hers again, shaking her head. "I don't remember what you're talking about now, that's how long ago it was. And you have never asked a single thing about me either, so don't even. I'm not as complicated as you'd like to think I am." She takes a breath and chews on her lip. "And I don't want to re-hash those things now. I thought for one second back there that it wouldn't be like this. That it'd be fine, but I was wrong."

Dragon> The nothingness shimmers, but not with intent. It's Ghislaith's own puzzlement that leaks through, a flaw in the game. A sigh of her own brief confusion, << This doesn't seem like you. >> The silence perhaps or maybe what seems to be over caution to her. (To Rasavyth from Ghislaith)

K'zin's eyes blink as she speaks, shaking his head. "No re-hashing. You can have all the space you want. As ever, Sabella, you can have ''whatever'' you want." This last is delivered with a touch of bitterness. "It'll be better this way anyway." This is softer, more to himself than to the greenrider. Then he turns back the direction he was going and starts walking, shoulders hunched forward, frustration evident in his expression.

Dragon> Shimmer for shimmer, the ooze twinkles at the puzzlement. << Nevertheless, it is me. >> It's delivered in a strange simpleness from a mind that always displays itself in so many complex layers. (To Ghislaith from Rasavyth)

Dragon> The nothingness vanishes with wisps of smokes, floating away into the night sky. The house emerges again, faint in the distance as she's far away just now. << Just remember who cares for you best. >> When he's finished with, well, whatever this lack of complexity is, whatever keeps him from playing games with her tonight. (To Rasavyth from Ghislaith)

"Please stop act-" Sabella shakes her head about to say more before she catches herself, taking a breath. "If that's how you feel then I'm very sorry." But she won't try and stop him from leaving again if he's so determined to do so. She's already done that once tonight.

The whirl is sudden. K'zin gets about two feet, so his voice can still be a conversational volume as he bites, "Stop acting like ''what'', Sabella? Acting like aside from my fuck ups all I've done is try to do what you wanted me to do? That all I've done is try to protect you? Do you really not see it?"

Dragon> The feeling of an arched brow prefaces his question, << Am I only to be cared for when I am exactly as one expects? >> What about rainy days? What about off days? Can it be truly called caring if those days find him alone. (To Ghislaith from Rasavyth)

"You're acting like someone holding a grudge because things didn't go the way you wanted them to a long time ago." Sabella isn't overly emotional, she's not yelling or trying to argue with him. There's the faint hint of regret in her voice as she switches from looking at that distant spot to watching him. "I never needed you to protect me and I didn't ask for it." That's spoken low as she bites down onto her lip pulls in another steadying breath. Patience.

Dragon> She's as aloof as she's ever been, nothing has changed in regards to her. << No. Why do you ask questions you know the answer to? >> Ghislaith wonders curiously, the curtains fluttering in a cool breeze. << I expected you would require space, if that's not the case... >> The boards groan as if in a shrug, she was only attempting to anticipate his mood. Sorry for the error in judgement. (To Rasavyth from Ghislaith)

"I'm not. Not even a little bit. It just feels like you hold me at arm's length. Friendly when you have to be. For Faranth's sake, Sabs, I'm not mooning over you, or over the fact that you don't want to kiss me. I'm sleeping with your best-friend -- or was -- and you have a boyfriend. It's not ''about'' something that didn't go a specific way. It's about us still not being real friends again despite the fact that it's only a couple months shy of a full turn since I pulled a dimglow move." K'zin looks as though he might say something more, but instead he sucks in a breath, holding back whatever it was. Either way, it looks like all the figurative wind is out of his sails.

Dragon> This answer of his green sister sparks even greater curiosity, so ooze comes trickling up to her gate, forming an oozy man to lean there. << Why would I require space? >> This isn't a question Rasavyth ''knows'' the answer to, at least. It's one he might have some guesses about, but cannot know her mind in this without her answering. (To Ghislaith from Rasavyth)

"I'm friendly because I'm ''being'' friendly." Sabs sighs and lifts her shoulders. "I don't know what else to say. I tried to just roll with it tonight that you were here." Her eyes wander once again to his clothes, to his overly patched pants. Quietly and maybe just a touch (a ''touch'') timidly, "I- I would have helped you pick out better clothes for whatever reason you're here. You don't want to ''fit'' in. You want to disappear. The way you're dressed someone would give you an even worse nickname than Gordo." There's a brief pause before adds, "We might as well start somewhere. Unless you really think it would be better."

Dragon> The door beyond the gate, it creaks slowly open. There's a handkerchief. It flutters in that cold breeze down to the wrought iron bars, sneaking through. It's for the slimy man, she doesn't want that stuff all over the place. Priorities. << Perhaps you do not want me to see you not at your best. It is not an unusual want. >> (To Rasavyth from Ghislaith)

There's a long pause as K'zin's expression shows his indecision; an internal struggling. "Do you want me to not protect you?" He asks quietly then, as though this were a critical missing element to his ability to make this choice. "It would be better for you if we weren't friends. Your boyfriend would definitely like it better. He has this ''weird'' thing about when I make you cry." It's an attempt at a joke, but comes off sounding a little flat, "But I'm selfish. Sometimes. And I do the wrong thing sometimes. And I make people cry sometimes. And I'd rather us be friends, even if it's not better."

Dragon> The ooze-man bursts into its component pieces of little spidery bugs, shimmering their otherwise invisible existence and the bugs hurry toward the door; not an invasion, a felinically playful attempt to ''get the handkerchief!!'' << You are my favorite. >> A pause. << You may see me when I am best and when I am not. If you wish. >> It is not an allowance he would make for all, but for her? There's that dangerous soft spot. (To Ghislaith from Rasavyth)

"By all means if you see someone coming up on me with a knife in their hand from behind, stop them. But ordinarily no, I don't really need you to protect me." Sabella lets her arms loosen finally, some smidgen of tension beginning to ease away. "Yes, well. He'll understand that it's my decision to choose my friends." Even if he probably won't like it very much when he finds out. Such is life. "You and everyone else, K'zin. Me too." The greenrider sighs and wanders to the steps of the tavern, sitting down on the lowest one. She throws her elbows onto her knees. "So lets be friends again? You're not as much fun to tease when you borderline hate me." Even in that, she's poking a little fun again, complete some small slip of a smile.

Dragon> Oh, it's the spiders again. Others may be disturbed by them but Ghislaith is unconcerned, she teases the handkerchief around before allowing them to have at it. << I know. >> Oh, so she's a little smug in the security of their friendship. The door remains open, offering a peek at the inside. It's damn near cheery looking inside, not the dreary gray space one would imagine. << You can stay. If you wish. >> It's the best offer she can return to him, being what it is. And it's not ''nothing''. (To Rasavyth from Ghislaith)

K'zin sighs. This time, though, the sigh is fluttery and clearly a fabricated thing. "I might've been borderline about you a lot, but it was never a borderline of hate. Insanity, frustration, just plain don't get it, all those borders, but not hate. Why do you girls have to be so sharding confusing anyway? With your pretty hair and your smelling good and stuff?" His baritone has definitely taken on a teasing quality of its own. "Not to mention that you ask me to be friends ''right after'' insulting my clothing. You're just lucky it's Ras who picked them out and not me, or I could never consent to saying yes with my dignity intact." K'zin has dignity. ... Obviously, it's a joke. "You want to get out of here? Maybe go to a bar where we can get our stories straight ahead of time?"

Dragon> The handkerchief, apparently, only holds interest for the spiders which climb the doorframe, the door, dangle of off the knob and ceiling, and try every which way to wrest it from Ghislaith's control, as long as they haven't won it over. Once it's lifeless, so, too, are they, stopping abruptly to look around instead, a little directionlessly. But then there's the invitation, and the bugs are taking her up on it, drawing Rasavyth's consciousness to her doorstep and then to peek within. As he crosses the threshold, bugs building back into the ooze-man, he admits softly. << I made a mistake, Ghislaith. >> (To Ghislaith from Rasavyth)

Laughing, "I think that you've had way too much free time if you were able to visit all of those borders." Sabs jokes as she allows some more of that tension to slip away, watching him with a wry smile. "I just wanted you to walk back into our friendship with your eyes wide open. I certainly didn't get any nicer while we were apart." She glances up and over her shoulder at the busy tavern behind her, leaning out of the way of a drunk coming down the steps. "We can go there only if you promise to not lie to me about what ''you're'' looking for. Then it's a deal."

Her opinion on his free time earns her a wry grin of his own. Then, "No? I heard ''love''-" And boy does K'zin ever make that word sound sappy, "-makes women all ''sweet'' and ''soft'' and stuff." It's delivered with a laugh, but likely only half a joke; what does K'zin know of love? Only what the rumors and Harper Tales say. "As long as that honesty is a two way street, I can make that promise." He agrees, adding his own condition, starting to walk, though slowly, "Is she this way? He's somewhere out there," A nod toward a spot of darkness in the distance.

Dragon> It is cheery within, even if there's some cracks in the paint and some scuff marks on the floor. The place looks well worn, lived-in. Her voice remains raspy even here but there's something more comfortable about it, she's safe here. << We all make mistakes. Have you done something that can never be corrected? >> (To Rasavyth from Ghislaith)

"Does it now? I think you've been talking to all of the wrong women." She drags herself up from the steps of the tavern, falling into step next to him. "She isn't. But she knows how to find me." Sabella sounds confident in her dragon's ability to see in the dark, maybe it's practice. She slips her hands into the front pockets of her pants. "Of course, I'll tell you what little I heard. Not that it's a lot." But maybe it's something, could be.

Dragon> To Ghislaith, Rasavyth's ooze-man spawns more little bugs, that build themselves into an older-styled run-down looking but decidedly comfortable chair for him to settle into in her foyer. << I do not know. >> There's genuine pensiveness and concern in his tone. << We will try to correct it. But... it has changed things forever. I do not know if it is a good change. >>

"Oh yeah? Well, I'll have to get right on talking to the right ones, then." K'zin answers with a laugh, "Although, have you heard? I'm apparently a bit of a whore now. I'm sort of amazed at how rumors take on a life of their own. Maybe it's the same way with what I've heard about love." The bronzerider keeps his pace moving but fairly easy. "I'm here for more than one reason." He starts, glancing at her out of the corner of his eyes, "One of them for practice fitting in. Looking like I belong somewhere." A pause, "But I ''would'' like it if you'd show me about being unmemorable."

Dragon> A rocking chair materializes from practically nowhere, slowly moving back and forth as if someone was sitting on it. << Change is what you're willing to make of it. Reconcile your past with the future ahead of you. You have already admitted to a mistake, that's where it begins. >> The movement slows as if thoughtful, << Your bond with him in unbreakable. >> (To Rasavyth from Ghislaith)

"You are?" Sabella asks, using what sounds ''almost'' like genuine surprise. "When did you start charging for your services? ...Did you make Telavi pay? Please tell me you did. Even if it's a lie, a dirty awful lie." Just so that she can tease her about it. "I just heard you were kind of a slut." She nudges her elbow into his ribs playfully. "It's helpful to fit in sometimes, but I've found that's only so great if you plan on being somewhere for awhile. If you're just dropping into a place you're almost better off being as boring as possible. So yeah, unmemorable."

"Oh, don't you know? I make ''everyone'' pay. Pay by enduring my company. Telavi's no exception." K'zin jokes, but then he's blushing. "Er, well, she was. I-- we-- haven't... In a while." He reaches up to rub the back of his neck, decidedly embarrassed. "Has she said anything to you? About-- I mean, I've been busy. And things weren't going so great and--" And it can be surmised that K'zin did something stupid again by keeping so busy. "Some of the places I go, fitting in's what I want. Some of them," A nod to their surroundings as they start to leave the hold behind and head into the vegetation, "Not so much."

"You are the worst business person. I'm not sure that I can allow people to know that we're friends if you're giving it out for free, basically." Sabella sighs with excess, oh-so-disappointed. As far as Telavi and him go, she clears her throat a little reluctantly. "If I told you the truth about that, I'd have to kill you and leave you here. There are rules about these sorts of things." So in short, yes. She knows something at the very least. "What are you doing running around all over Pern? I hope you're getting better compensation for that than the other things you're not charging for."

Dragon> << We know. >> It comes slowly, thoughtfully. << But an unbreakable bond can still be weak. And you ''know'' how I loathe true weakness. >> The appearance of it? That, he embraces. All the better to surprise those who would think of him poorly, but ''actual'' weakness? That's no good. << It's like I've wasted nearly a turn with him. To be suddenly back as though I had made a different choice on the night of the hatching. >> There's a sensation of recent refreshing on that particular memory, as though it's not something he actively remembers, but more like something he read up on recently. (To Ghislaith from Rasavyth)

"How much would I charge for something like that? Would women actually pay, do you think? I mean, if I ''am'' a slut anyway..." What's the difference, K'zin's tone implies, and now it might be hard to tell if he's joking or not. "Alright. I won't ask again then. Wouldn't want you to have to kill me and leave my body for whatever--" He trails off and gulps. He pauses abruptly to gulp again. He looks a little like he's going to be sick, but a few moments later seems to have it under control. "Sorry. The-- bodies. On the ship. Let's not talk about killing me for a while, ok?" Onto other topics! "Will you keep a secret for me?" He knows she ''can'', case in point: Telavi, so the question is will she.

Dragon> She's a silent intent listener, something he can glean but the sudden suspension of the usual creaks and groans across the house. << What is weak does not always have to be so. In fact, weakness allows for you to see things before you might not have noticed. Places to become stronger, to build upon. >> Ghislaith does not remember the moment of impression very well, if at all. It's quite vague for her. << Look for the opportunity, nothing is ever a waste. >> (To Rasavyth from Ghislaith)

"Whores get paid, sluts don't." Sabella clarifies, just for his personal information. "And no, I'm not sure that women would actually pay. So I think you might be stuck with your lot in life." She lifts her shoulder in a sort of apology for that, quick smile though. "Big jungle felines? Bugs? A healer-gone-rogue that wants to perform experimental surgery on people but the Hall won't let him so he steals corpses and just happens to find yours?" Breathe. Oh and then K'zin is looking physically ill. "Oh! I'm sorry, are you okay? I mean, I guess I forget that-" What, other people are a little more sensitive than her? When he doesn't look as if he's about to start throwing up, "No problem. No more dead K'zin jokes. Promise." As for secrets, "Sure, I'm good for it."

Dragon> To Ghislaith, Rasavyth's focuses is all here, too. It's evidenced in the way all of his bugs are woven together to be the armchair and the ooze-man and how not even a single invisible spider is exploring the house that's been opened to him. << You raise excellent points, my dear Ghislaith. >> They're not points he wasn't aware of, but somehow hearing her say them, hearing just how she phrases them helps him to recognize them better, to internalize them. Then softly, << I did not mean to ''hurt'' him. And I did. ''So'' deeply, Ghislaith. >> There is ''shame'' in this and the ooze starts to melt from form into a puddle.

A mocking gesture of disappointment comes in the form of snapped fingers and a pouty lower lip. But then he has to battle the memory of the bloating corpses, as brought back by the mention of his own body becoming lifeless. It's a hard-won battle to keep down his last meal and that ale he had at the bar, but K'zin manages, despite the excess of awful things that might happen to his corpse after Sabella kills him and leaves his body in the jungle, as narrated by the would-be-murderess. There's a thin smile that is gratitude for her laying off those particular jokes. "I was trying to learn about-- well, the things that got High Reaches to where it's at now. And part of that's about Seani. That murdered girl that Lord Devaki was suspected of killing all those turns ago? Only some people don't want me to know about some things, I guess, because the records are sealed. And that just-- well, it seems wrong, doesn't it? For a murder to go unsolved and for people to keep secrets about it turns later?"

There's no other reaction that she can have, Sabella winces and glances away as K'zin gets it under control. She's not exactly the touchy-feely sort, so he's on his own insofar as not throwing up all over the docks. "Sorry about that, I just- Well." The girl loves a good-bad joke with her conversations. "That's not surprising, there's no one up high that ever wants the general population to know what they're up to." She doesn't sound surprised, slipping into silence while he further explains. "I don't know that I'm the best person to argue the moral nature of secrets. But I do like getting into them, they're valuable. Why don't you just steal the record?" Case in point, moral nature not necessarily top-notch here. "You said they're sealed, so they exist. I'm surprised they didn't burn them."

Dragon> Oh, puddles. The house gets to cleaning them up, a full soft towel soaking up the excess liquid from the floor. But meanwhile the atmosphere is almost comforting, warm but not cloying and there's a flowery scent. << We don't always know what we do. But you know now, you've admitted the mistake. You where you went wrong. He will forgive you, you will be strong again. >> A soft breeze whispers across his mind. << All things pass. There is no shame in correcting your own wrongs. >> (To Rasavyth from Ghislaith)

K'zin makes a gesture to dismiss her apology; he'd rather pretend none of it ever happened, lest he have to fight the battle anew. "I'm--" The bronzerider stops short, physically, and in his speech, staring at the greenrider, "I'm working on that. Only, I've got to do it, and put it back. Otherwise, K'del will know or suspect enough to say where to look. I'm looking into things at Harper Hall and elsewhere. Trying to see, too, if there was any kind of-- I don't know, connection, between the death of Seani and Iolene's. That's why I'm south. Trying to learn about her murderer. Only, you know. It's not so easy. And it's a lot of ground to cover." He reaches up to push a hand through his hair, "You-- wouldn't be of a mind to ''help'', would you? I just. I don't think it's fair to keep things from riders who want to know. Worse, still, to tell them 'you can't know this thing in particular'."

Dragon> The appearance of the puddle-soaking-towel prompts action as the puddle slides first to one side, and then the other, avoiding the dabs of the towel. << Sometimes, we know what we do. We make the best choice we think we have, and we are wrong. >> He is wrong. Was wrong. ''Wrong''. It feels so ''wrong'' to be ''wrong''. But he lets himself be comforted by her wisdom and the dripping ceases. (To Ghislaith from Rasavyth)

Sabella lifts an eyebrow to regard him when he stops short, slowing her steps. Her expression speaks to the 'what?' that she doesn't verbalize outloud. "The thing is, I seriously doubt that the thing will be under watch ''all'' the time. You could probably take it and put it back without anyone realizing. Put a dummy in it's place." So easy says she, anyone can do it. "How often can anyone be going and checking on it?" The greenrider presses her lips together, thoughtful. "I thought I'kris killed Iolene? And the dragons were all fussing a few months back that it was over a 'false queen'. You remember that? I don't know how much Devaki could be involved in that then." She seems to be doubtful on that angle. "Like I said, I'm not exactly concerned with the moral righteousness of it. But I do love a good challenge."

"A dummy," K'zin contemplates, "Well, ''really'' I only need to get a good look at each page." But there's merit to the idea regardless so he rolls it over in his head. "Iolene was killed by I'kris, yeah. And maybe it was because he found out about what she did, but she was an Exile too. Two murders that close together? I mean, maybe it's nothing but... I wonder why he did it. And, of course, he's not around to ask." What with the suicide and all. He shrugs his shoulders. "I don't think the records at Harper are sealed. There, it's just a matter of getting someone who knows what they're looking for. Or the autopsy record copies at Healer. And there's -- Sabs, you're good at being friendly with girls, right?" K'zin's walking again as he talks, edging ever nearer to a safe space where their dragon can arrive and go unseen by the locals.

"And you're going to spend your time in the room where it's stored reading it? I don't know if that's what I'd do." Sabella well, it's clear. She'd take the whole damn thing, have her way with it and then put it back where it came from. "Too bad C'wlin is being kept busy with Boreal, he'd probably know his way around the Harper Hall." But then he ''is'' busy with them, since him and N'hax were released from their imprisonment in the barracks. "I can be if I were so inclined. Is there someone you want me to go and talk to? Can't you just bat your eyelashes at them?" She asks jokingly.

Dragon> When the puddle begins to fight back, the towel swipes after it with semi-frustration. << Oh you are so annoying... >> It's muttered beneath her 'breath' as she tries to clean. The wooden boards creak. << It's alright to be wrong. No one is infallible. As much as you'd like to be. >> (To Rasavyth from Ghislaith)

"I don't need to read it." K'zin bites his lower lip, "Just ''see'' it." At this point, he knows there's no escaping some kind of explanation, "Rasavyth has a way of recalling memories really vividly, freezing them and being able to take them in better. It helps for things like Silver Thread lessons, and my drawings and stuff. But, if you're more keen on ''that'' part of things than doing other kinds of stuff, you can take that as your personal challenge." No skin off his back; save his hide from being in the fire, potentially. "I haven't tried, yet. I don't know what her persuasion is. I guess seeing if can get her in bed is one way to do it." Apparently, the 'whore' hadn't thought of that.

"Okay well-" Sabella lifts an eyebrow upwards, as if she might just be skeptical of that. But she can only take such things at face value. "Regardless, I'd recommend you actually read things for yourself first. It sounds like a useful trick but you should rely on your brain as much his." It's gentle encouragement, obviously she can't control what he does with his own mind. But moving along now, "I'll think about it. I made some promises that I have to keep." As for the other thing that he wants her try her hand at, "Who is she?"

"Akadri. She saved K'del's kid's life by making a big deal about him not going with Seani to the weyr that day." K'zin answers simply. "But all that's only one reason I'm here. The other has to with the wreck." He chooses his words carefully lest there suddenly be need to find a convenient bush. "There was a note on one of the bodies. I thought it might help sort out who they were. What they were doing there. All that. So what did you hear?" Even as he asks, they seem to have reached the spot, the rustle of wings as Rasavyth comes to a landing some paces away, his eyes glowing in the dim starlight.

Dragon> Amusement laces through the tenor purr that sounds a little more familiar to their usual interactions, << If I knew what towels were afraid of, I'd have the puddle just transform itself into that. As is... >> The puddle just keeps evading as the ooze man stands and the invisible ooze of the shimmering chair folds itself back into the man from whence they came. Then the puddle's looking to get past the towel to the ooze man, too, testing the possible routes. (To Ghislaith from Rasavyth)

The dark form of her dragon wings down from the sky, the lengthy and narrow green landing delicately nearby. She did find them afterall. "You want me to find out if she knew not to go there or if it was a coincidence." Sabella surmises, looking past her fellow weyrling to their lifemate's landing in the darkness. "I found a letter on one of them, it was from his lover. It took me a few days but I managed to find her. I... She wasn't very helpful, but then she was very upset. If you want to see her I have to go with you. I may have engaged in some creative storytelling to make the truth less painful." She blows a piece of hair out of her face. "I'll probably go back in a few days to check up on her, she might be better then. But in the meantime, the man had a tattoo on his wrist. So I've been trying to find out if it meant anything, if anyone was familiar with it. No such luck tonight at least."

Dragon> << Towels fear nothing. >> This one in particular strikes out at the puddle as it's trying to get away. << Your puddle will have to remain as is. >> Ghislaith watches it suspiciously, but she hardly seems to be really annoyed by his teasing. It's par for the course and she's much more used to his version of him than when mopes around. (To Rasavyth from Ghislaith)

"Pretty much." K'zin confirms with a nod. "If you talk with her and you think me waggling my manbits at her would loosen her tongue better, let me know and I'll see what she looks like." A man on a mission but not without standards, evidently, though there's humor in his tone. There are nods for the information about the woman, "The note I found was similar. From a woman named Teiranne. Is that-- Same woman?" Regardless, he adds, "I'd like to come with you. When you see her again. And-- that tattoo, was it- a shipfish? With like... evil eyes?"

Dragon> << So sweet of you to want to keep a part of me ''in'' you. >> Rasavyth must be feeling better if he's breaking out the bawdy jokes. Maybe Ghislaith-towels fear absorbing some part of Rasavyth-puddles. Perhaps it's a test to find out. (To Ghislaith from Rasavyth)

"I hope you don't refer to them as your 'manbits' when you're with women. But then again maybe that's why you and Tela fell off?" It's definitely supposed to be a joke, another teasing jab as she moves closer to her own dragon. Her hands instinctively going to the riding straps still in place. "It is, you're welcome to come along. Just before we I'll have to fill you in on what happened at the ship." Her version of events anyway. "It was. Seemed distinctive, right?"

Dragon> If it was possible for her to give him some sort of a dirty look right around now, that's what she would be doing. Rasavyth might be her favorite too but he is occasionally borderline annoying. << Oh, you can keep right on thinking that if it makes you feel better. But don't put ''too'' much stock into it. >> (To Rasavyth from Ghislaith)

"Only when I'm with women I'm not trying to sleep with," K'zin answers, hopefully reassuring. But the joke about Telavi falls short of humor for the bronzerider, who looks, once more, uncomfortable, "No. Um. I sort of-- started-- sucking. In the sack." It's too dark to see, but surely there's intense blushing on his part. "Distinctive, yeah, if you mean distinctive in that ''all'' the bodies had the same tattoo in the same place." K'zin answers, "Or at least, all the ones I found. What happened on the ship? Or will you tell me over our drinks?" This is asked as he in turn moves to Rasavyth's side.

Dragon> That's exactly what little brothers are ''for'', though. If he weren't sometimes bordering on or crossing over to annoying, Rasavyth wouldn't be doing it right. The puddle makes a final dodge and mad dash to join with the ooze-man's leg and he's meandering toward the door. He can annoy her from ''outside'' where she can't have the house collapse on him, or something. (To Ghislaith from Rasavyth)

"Well in that case..." Sabella lifts one hand from the straps that she absently checks over and gives a little wave. The part about sucking in bed has her clearing her throat and glancing towards him, not that she can see him in the dark but likely she's able to suspect. "I'm sure that it's not a forever thing." As if there should be some kind of comfort he can derive from that. Of course, she's not healer so her lack of helpful advice probably isn't shocking. "I'll tell you over drinks, it's not a complicated story. It's just- I wouldn't want it ruined for her." The greenrider gives a nod of her head towards her lifemate before beginning to scramble up her side.

Dragon> The door groans shut behind him, all gentle-like. Even if he did try and leave a mess on her floor. (To Rasavyth from Ghislaith)

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

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<comments />

Logs talk:Campaign Colorblind

2013-07-02T04:04:24Z

Zian: Comment provided by Zian - via ArticleComments extension

<noinclude>Comments on "[[Logs:Campaign Colorblind]]"
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[[Zian/Comments|Zian]] ([[User:Zian|Zian]] ([[User talk:Zian|talk]])) left a comment on Tue, 02 Jul 2013 04:04:24 GMT.

<comment date="2013-07-02T04:04:24Z" name="Zian" signature="[[User:Zian|Zian]] ([[User talk:Zian|talk]])">
G'mli for Weyrleader. :D
</comment>

Logs talk:Family Meeting

2013-07-01T22:10:44Z

Zian: Comment provided by Zian - via ArticleComments extension

<noinclude>Comments on "[[Logs:Family Meeting]]"
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[[Azaylia/Comments|Azaylia]] ([[User:Dragonshy|Dragonshy]] ([[User talk:Dragonshy|talk]])) left a comment on Mon, 01 Jul 2013 21:40:09 GMT.

<comment date="2013-07-01T21:40:09Z" name="Azaylia" signature="[[User:Dragonshy|Dragonshy]] ([[User talk:Dragonshy|talk]])">
Damn. That is one tough lady. Go Siobhan!
It was really easy to picture the cramped little cellar, and fun to imagine trader faces to the words. I really enjoyed this. ^^
</comment>
[[Zian/Comments|Zian]] ([[User:Zian|Zian]] ([[User talk:Zian|talk]])) left a comment on Mon, 01 Jul 2013 22:10:44 GMT.

<comment date="2013-07-01T22:10:44Z" name="Zian" signature="[[User:Zian|Zian]] ([[User talk:Zian|talk]])">
'' "Then fuck 'em." As if it's so obvious.''

Love it.
</comment>

Logs:A Good Lie

2013-07-01T19:29:00Z

Zian: Created page with "{{ Log | who = Sabella, Teiranne | where = Somewhere, Southern Peninsula | what = Sabella tracks town the writer of a letter. | when = Day 17, month 2, turn 32 | gamedate = 20..."

{{ Log
| who = Sabella, Teiranne
| where = Somewhere, Southern Peninsula
| what = Sabella tracks town the writer of a letter.
| when = Day 17, month 2, turn 32
| gamedate = 2013.07.01
| quote =
| weather =
| categories = Vignette
| mentions = E'sren
| ooc =
| icons = sabella tense.png
| log =

She’d gone back down into the hold of the ship with Raiskel’s body, she’d really meant to put that letter back into his pocket. But instead she’d paused and stared at him for what seemed like forever, when in reality it was only a few seconds. Making the decision, she’d folded it up and slipped it inside of her own shirt. The damp paper pressed against her skin now.

“It wasn’t ours to keep.” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t exactly the truth either. Part of her regretted it, but she didn’t think he’d approve of her holding onto it.

It wasn’t right away that she went back south, hitting the various small holds along the peninsula. But no one had heard of a ‘Teiranne’. Nevermind a ‘Raiskel’. Until they had.

The woman that met her at the tavern fingered the necklace she wore anxiously. She’d ushered her into the backroom and when she heard the news she’d begun to cry. She wanted to know who and why, where and how.

Sabella couldn’t bring herself to tell Teiranne what had really happened. Her man’s body lodged between a couple of damp grain barrels in several inches of water, left to rot in the dark. No, she told her something else. They’d come up on the ship mid-attack. Raiskel was defending a younger deckhand when he was fatally wounded. The offenders had fled from the dragons, but it was too late for him.

And yes, she told the crying woman that she’d spoken to Raiskel and held his hand when he passed. She promised him that she’d bring the letter back, that he’d asked her to tell Teiranne that he kept it with him every day and read it every night. Sabs told her that she would do everything she could to find the people that had killed him. In the end, Teiranne was heartbroken but taking some comfort in the ‘truth’ and the promises of a stranger.

When she stepped back out into the sunlight she inhaled the sea breeze, looking up to Ghislaith in the sky. But then to the docks at the other side of the hold, how much trouble could it be to ask a few sailors about evil-eyed shipfish tattoos? After all, every good lie has an element of truth.

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Logs:Plot Update - June 23 - 29, 2013

2013-07-01T01:39:46Z

Zian: Just removing some unnecessary clarification. :)

{{ Log
| who = High Reaches Weyr
| where = High Reaches Weyr
| what = Summary of Plot Points/Important Scenes for the Week
| when = Month 1, Turn 32
| gamedate = 2013.06.30
| quote =
| weather =
| categories = Plot Summary
| mentions = H'kon, Alida, K'zin, Sabella, N'ky, Aishani, Jo, Z'ian, Azaylia, D'kan, E'sren, N'rov, Telavi, Madilla, Devaki, Issedi, Hattie
| ooc = Please feel free to add to this summary if important plot points or scenes have been missed!
| icons =
| log = This is the weekly plot summary for High Reaches Weyr - covering the week of '''June 23 - 29''' (For last week, [http://hrweyr.net/Logs:Plot_Update_-_June_16_-_22,_2013 click here]):

'''Month 1'''

* [http://hrweyr.net/Logs:Sense_of_Place H'kon considers his place in the High Reaches chaos].

* [http://hrweyr.net/Logs:Broken_boundary,_busted_brow Alida wants to know what K'zin's up to, and is willing to punch him to find out].

* [http://hrweyr.net/Logs:The_State_of_Things Sabella and N'ky discuss the state of things… and broken limbs].

* [http://hrweyr.net/Logs:Wiggle_Room Aishani visits Jo for a 'pirate adventure' update. Changes in position don't make changes in their plans].

* [http://hrweyr.net/Logs:Rim_Shot Z'ian and H'kon have another cryptic conversation].

* [http://hrweyr.net/Logs:Dual_Dealings_With_The_Smiths Azaylia and D'kan have some dealings with the Smiths].

* [http://hrweyr.net/Logs:Loosening_Up Jo talks to Alida about wings, current events and 'loosening up'].

* [http://hrweyr.net/Logs:The_Next_Step Azaylia and E'sren discuss the Weyrleader situation].

* [http://hrweyr.net/Logs:Contrition Aishani didn't tell N'rov she quit]… until after Fort's hatching. There are apologies.

* [http://hrweyr.net/Logs:Revert Jo and Telavi catch up, on wings and weyrwomen].

* [http://hrweyr.net/Logs:Morning_Buzzkill N'ky asks H'kon for advice, and he's a buzzkill]. Shocking!

'''Month 2'''

* [http://hrweyr.net/Logs:Dirty_Looks Z'ian and Jo talk about being on opposite sides of the fence].

* [http://hrweyr.net/Logs:Vinien%27s_Second_Turnday Madilla and her children are invited to Devaki and Issedi's son's second turnday]. It's awkward.

* [http://hrweyr.net/Logs:A_Shuffle_Of_Duties Azaylia visits Hattie. They discuss the changes at High Reaches].

* [http://hrweyr.net/Logs:Whose_Line_Is_It_Anyway%3F Despite drama], the weyrling trip South is successful, as they find [http://hrweyr.net/Logs:Salvage a mysterious shipwreck] full of supplies. Supplies the Weyr is short on. Interesting.

* [http://hrweyr.net/Logs:Cunning_and_ambitious Aishani answers K'zin's questions], but he doesn't like the answers. [http://hrweyr.net/Logs:Potent_but_ineffective Jo is not much more help].

* [http://hrweyr.net/Logs:19 N'ky gets another letter from his father], via his family. He makes plans to fix things.

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Logs:Salvage

2013-06-30T02:26:20Z

Zian:

{{ Log
| who = E'sren{{!}}Ahruth, Alida, E'sren, Sabella{{!}}Ghislaith, Alida{{!}}Ilicaeth, K'zin, N'ky, Quinlys{{!}}Olveraeth, Quinlys, K'zin{{!}}Rasavyth, Sabella, Telavi{{!}}Solith, Telavi, Jo{{!}}Tacuseth
| where = Secluded Cove, Southern Continent
| what = After the storm, the weyrlings find a shipwreck.
| when = Day 8, Month 2, Turn 32
| gamedate = 2013.06.28
| quote = Waste not, want not.
| weather =
| categories =
| mentions =
| ooc = Scene run by [[K'del/ST{{!}}Quinlys]].
| icons = quinlys olveraeth stars.jpeg, quinlys very serious.jpg, telavi adventuring.jpg, telavi solith chartreuse.jpg, k'zin troubled.jpg, k'zin rasavyth whisper.jpg, e'sren 17.jpg, sabella tropical2.jpg, sabella hislaith1.png
| log = It's been a long night: the wind has roared, the rain has poured, and it's been downright ''cold''. It's morning now, though, and all of that has stopped. From within the caves, it's possible to see a hint of sunlight outside-- and the dragons, outside, can report to the dramatic change in weather… and some definite indications of storm damage to trees, to the beach, and probably further afield. Still, whatever waits for the weyrlings and their weyrlingmasters outside, it's ''got'' to be better than staying in these damp, cold caves.

It was a total bastich keeping the fire before 'her' cave alight in the crappy weather, and Alida was only partially successful at doing such. At least there was *some* warmth, at times. And now that she's out when it's not raining, and the sun is actually out, the bluie gets to scope out the carnage.

Yeah, great. This is exactly what she wanted, frizzy hair. Sabella is in the process of 1) trying to comb her hair out and 2) heading straight to the front of the damp cold cave to see what's outside. There's sun there and that has to be better than spending one more minute inside. Ghislaith rumbles outside, glad to see her rider emerging already.

Ahruth is restless. He had to hang out huddled up all night and now his wings stretch and twitch and he cranes his long neck to see up into the sky. E'sren follows Sabella to the front of the cave and beyond without a pause, acting either stupid or brave or maybe those are the same thing in this case. "Really?" he asks no one, a comment in general on the abrupt weather change.

Outside, Solith's glided down to wait, not ''right'' up against the cave and, in fact, further back than some of the other dragons like Ghislaith who might have been more of a hurry. She does, however, watch the cave entrance, and not ''quite'' like a firelizard eyeing a tunnelsnake's hole, either. She's drippy, her eyes aren't their normal blue, and she's ''waiting''. As for Telavi, whose hair has stayed unhappily in its braids since the storm hit, she troops outside with that one blanket knotted under her neck so it can swing from her shoulders cape-style, and squints out at, "The light. Is that really light? That big glow in the sky?"

It's kind of steamy outside, thanks to the combination of all that water and this newly returned heat. A few trees have fallen in the vicinity of the caves, but it's not as bad as it could be. Still, the path back to the beach - where there's a little spring of fresh water - is no longer as clear as it was. "Check on our camp site," suggests Quinlys, frizzy-haired and with dark shadows beneath her eyes. "I'll try and pack up things here."

Dragon> Smart-ass that he is, Ilicaeth chuffs grittily after emerging from his homemade tree shelter, << Wha'did we do wrong, oh day ball? >> (To Cirrus dragons from Ilicaeth)

"Really. Still glad to be here?" Sabella shoots over her shoulder to E'sren with an impish grin before hopping down onto the ground. Their cave is nice and low to the ground, so it's a short distance. Like a foot. Once onto the beach she begins to tangle her hair up into a rough bun, heading towards the campsite as indicated. "Yes ma'am." And naturally, she hops and walks along the top edges of a fallen tree. One foot in front of the other.

"Maybe. We'll see." E'sren follows after his lithe companion, taking the ground route below her. He runs a hand along Ahruth's muzzle on the way, then shakes the collar of his shirt to try to get some air moving in there. The sun's suddenly so... warm. He's also for the campsite, slow and steady.

Looking around for a moment - greens careful to not dwell on Telavi - Alida grunts at Quinlys' words, and starts winding and climbing her way around and over whatever's fallen during the storm, on her way to the beach. She just *knows* what she's going to find, and the thought of all the work put into properly pitching tents and other things makes the blonde groan inwardly. And Ilicaeth? He's already ahead of her, and moving that way, serving as his lifemate's secondary eyes.

Tela pats her face, murmurs something about moisturizing, and gives their weyrlingmaster's hair a sidelong look without any ma'aming going on. Solith needs petting, so she does, rubbing her hands down the green's nose and then back behind her headknobs. A glance past, to the tree-walking, makes her smile but then it's back to Solith. She'll head to the campsite, she'll just be... slow. Slow, and not looking at Alida particularly either.

K'zin had, early on in the storming, been taking more to staying outside with Rasavyth than inside. Until Quinlys took him aside. The grapevine is alive and well in the caves, so though no one can say the exact phrasing, but the words 'dimglow', 'pneumonia' and 'relapse' were uttered in some combination. After that, he mostly stayed by the fire, watching the flames, drawing things in the bit of dirt on the cave floor with a stick. Now that the weather appears to be clearing, he's following the rest into the steamy scene outside, Rasavyth a ways back from the entrance, evidently unconcerned as others seem to be. He shakes his dull wings, letting a hint of their shiny underside show before re-cloaking himself in their embrace.

It's probably those dragons flying above that see it first, though as the weyrlings come around the bend towards the beach they might too: there's something different around the rocks, past the lagoon. Something… is that a ''mast''? The beach itself is a mess: the campsite is basically gone, the water has gone murky with topsoil and debris, and this tropical paradise seems… an awful lot less perfect.

Ahruth has taken to the sky, as is his wont, and is quick about it, as is his game. He bugles down at the beach as E'sren appears there, to let him know, and the bluerider nods, staring. "Yeah, I see it." The dragon circles, a bright beacon in the sky, undulating and twisting through the currents of air, then casts a wider net and goes further out.

Ghislaith has departed from her post by the caves and has taken to the sky. Indeed she does see that mast in the distance. << Not again. >> There's almost an inward groan, all creaky wood and groaning archways. She's touching some distant memory that's become foggy. Sabella catches the message from her lifemate, one broadcasted to anyone that might listen this time. Go figure, Ghislaith. Talking outloud. "A ship?" She glances down to E'sren from her spot on the log and nimbly wanders down to the end of the fallen tree, hitting the sand with both feet. "Do you think there are people trapped in it?"

"Shit..." Alida mouths low to herself after seeing the carnage through Ilicaeth's eyes, the woman silently informing her blue to give her a thorough scan of not only the beach, but the trees, sky. Habit. And while she's walking along at a good clip wherever possible, the guard receives secondhand word from her dragon about that...mast-ey something-or-other, and she stops in her tracks, for a moment. More pirates? A vessel thrown off course in the storm? Her heart beats more rapidly, and with her hand near one of her many knives, the weyrling continues on with more caution.

Tela's divested herself of the blanket, by now, rubbing it over Solith's wings in turn, a job made suddenly difficult by the green twisting her neck and looking up to the sky. << Not again? >> There's the groan, but... Ghislaith ''groans'', it's just what happens, it's part of things. << What is it? >> As for Telavi, out loud, "Do you want me to do this or not?"

Dragon> Swirl-gust. << You see this, yet? >> A borrowed image from one of the other weyrling dragons shows that mast/ship. (To Olveraeth from Ilicaeth)

Dragon> To Ilicaeth, Olveraeth has not seen it - Olveraeth, who has stayed close to the caves, Olveraeth who has trusted his charges to go on ahead. << Mine says to check it out. In case there are survivors. Remember what we've learned. >>

Dragon> A snappy and brisk salute << You got it. >> and Ilicaeth fades off like dust under the door as he goes into mission mode. (To Olveraeth from Ilicaeth)

K'zin is at the back of the pack, so it's the general reaction evoked among the weyrlings that has Rasavyth curious enough to take wing. The bronzerider is confused by what he sees as they approach the once-campsite. "What is it?" He echoes Solith, unknowingly. His brows knit, glancing skyward to get the dragon's eye view; but that doesn't much seem to help his confusion yet.

"A ship." Sabella calls back to K'zin, before shielding her eyes to look overhead for her dragon. Her one hand raises and there's some silent communication between the two. The dark green can be seen reluctantly turning on wing and arrowing across the sky to that mast sticking up from the water. << Lets look. >> She doesn't sound happy to have to go, so she's not going alone, damn it. Others will share in her 'misery'. Quote, unquote.

From the air, up close, nothing seems to move on the ship. It's wedged up against some treacherous rocks, with deep gashes giving a pretty clear indication that it isn't going to be going anywhere anytime soon. It's not all submerged, though. It ''is'', however, deathly silent. ''Is'' there anyone on board?

On Ghislaith's bidding, Ahruth wheels on the tip of a wing to follow, slicing smoothly through the air. E'sren squints up at Sabella, then carries on towards camp, picking his way carefully through those bits that require it. And then, when it's realized that this ship wouldn't be here unless it had been in some kind of trouble, his strides lengthen.

Look. Solith can ''look'', nosing Tela one last time and then leaping up with no regard for the blanket at all. Tela sighs, looks up at her green's airy progress over to Ghislaith and Ahruth and what Ghislaith's found, then gauges the relative distance back to the caves before trotting down towards the beach. Partway down, ''something'' kicks in and after a second look upward, Telavi kicks her speed up a notch. No more, though, not with this footing.

There's enough pair of eyes in the air, and Ilicaeth has access to enough of his fellow dragons' views, so the blue stays on terra-firma, up until he's done with his own visual assessment for Alida. Once finished, his new directive becomes 'investigate with caution,' and he does so by sucking in a huge double-lungful of air, and wading out into the warm water, quickly submerging and swimming towards the wreck. And his rider? She's still moving on foot through strewn-about trees and such, and she hasn't made the beach, quite yet.

<< Nothing. >> Ghislaith's summary of the wrecked ship echoes back to her rider and the other dragons. << Silence. >> Such silence. It's not just a description, the dead silence is something she feels, deep in her. That she lends to the others. It makes even ''her'' uncomfortable. << Suspicious. >> Sabella glances at the destroyed camp, then she looks towards E'sren. "Let's go check for ourselves. It's not too far." And the greenrider begins to pick her way past the broken up tents and sticks, ducking along the jungle path that would lead to the ship.

Dragon> To Olveraeth, Rasavyth's oozy touch reaches with a smattering of starry shimmers, << You may have been apprised already, but-- there is, evidently, a mast-- or a ship or both where our campsite should have been. Or near it. >> The tenor is confused, and vivid images of what he sees from high in the air are passed along; he's never seen a ship, nor has his K'zin. Sketches and backdrops only.

ST> (To Alida): The water is darker and less clear than it was, yesterday morning: much more difficult to see through. Even so, Ilicaeth can see holes in the underside of the ship and... is that... oh. it looks like an arm, hanging limp, from out of one of them. 

Dragon> To Rasavyth, Olveraeth has stars of his own, a whole sky full of them, and that mast rises proud and tall into it... not broken at all, whether or not ''that'' is what is really out there. << We've heard, >> he confirms. << Investigate. Stay safe. There may be people in need of rescue. >>

They'll go together, E'sren and Sabella, no big surprise there. They both prove to be pretty agile, weaving and bobbing to get through the thick parts, while Ahruth and Ghislaith fly overhead.

The wreck is a reasonable distance past the old camp sight, and getting there involves clambering over some of the rocks. At least it's low tide-- but that's only a small mercy. The mast stands tall; the ship itself seems wedged securely enough that it's not going anywhere. There's even a boulder positioned in such a way that it may not be too difficult to get aboard.

Dragon> Through double-lidded eyes, Ilicaeth shows both Alida and Olveraeth what he sees, and that holey underside and arm. Sounding quite like he's holding his mental air, too << I think he drowned. >> Only a hint of regret at that, he's precise and informative with those visuals. (To Olveraeth from Ilicaeth)

Sabella's answer to K'zin's question took some processing. Soon enough, the man is jogging toward the evidently deserted vessel, eyes widening as he comes closer. He comes to a halt some feet away, assessing the scene and it's dangers - the rocks, for one. Rasavyth circles lower, curiosity showing in the whirl of his eyes and the general timbre of the oozy touch he exudes. There's a glance from K'zin to Rasavyth, followed by a nod, and he begins picking his way carefully across the rocks, keeping his center of gravity low, and watching for promising footholds, wary of slippage.

The jungle is a mess and the rocks are obnoxious. But Sabella and E'sren are indeed nimble and all sorts of rangy between the two of them, it doesn't take much to get through the tight spots for them. The bigger bolder that brings them to the point of access to the ship has the greenrider eyeballing it carefully. She presses her lips together and begins to move across the slick surface very carefully.

And she basically tap dances her way to the otherside.

Dragon> To Ilicaeth, Olveraeth feels that death more personally; he takes it to heart, saving that nameless person to his starscape, honoring them. << Don't disturb it. There may be others. But there ''may'' be survivors. >>

That ''silence'' shivers right through Solith, and then she's circling back to Telavi, but not for comfort. Or, not just for comfort, because then Tela's knotting the blanket about herself again and climbing astride. It's a little harder going with her straps back at the caves, but she hangs on tightly and Solith flies upward cautiously, angling just high enough above the water to attempt a landing on those poky, treacherous rocks out there. No, Telavi isn't looking around for Quinlys any.

Hanging back to spot Sabella on her way across the boulder, E'sren watches her feet carefully and has his hands poised just in case. Not that she needs any help there. And then, when she makes it, he follows. Not tapdancing, but at least making it.

Alida finds herself emerging onto the beach a ways distant from most, her divided concentration finding her roaming off the path. Everyone else is rock climbing out beyond her, so the blonde simply climbs to get a good overall view from as high up as is safe.

The sails on the ship have torn, but they're flapping in the breeze, still: it's the only noise except for the sound of the weyrlings' footsteps, and the roll of waves against the rocks, and the ship itself. It's... almost eerily quiet.

''That'' didn't go so well, Solith with less vigor than usual what with being outside all night in the rain and the cold and the mud and the general awfulness, and the green skids up only just in time to not ''crash''-land on the rocks. The second time goes a little better, having chosen a different angle, and maybe she might have made it but uncertainty brings her up again. Telavi's not saying a whole lot about it, at least not out loud.

Ghislaith practically hangs overhead, circling the deserted ship. Her discontent is rumbled through the group, just so they all know what a bad idea she thinks this is. Her lifemate's discomfort certainly doesn't stop Sabella from climing right onto the boat, landing on the deck. The silence ''does'' get to her and she looks back over her shoulder, watching K'zin and E'sren both as they complete their climb over. Cautiously, she begins to walk forward and peek around.

Slip, thud, "Ow!" Alida barks out as she gets tripped up by some moss, her hip meeting the rocks hard. Someone's gonna have a nasty bruise. Cussing a blue streak under her breath, the blonde gets to her feet again in time to see Solith abandon her landing and try again.

Pulling himself up by the arms, then swinging his legs around, E'sren drops down onto the deck of the ship behind Sabella and meets her eyes when she looks back at him. And if she is going to take the lead, he'll watch her back, taking a flank and keeping watch as he takes slow steps after her. Ahruth ducks and twists to criss cross above them, anxious.

K'zin saves his dancing skills for the dance floor. His movements are careful, precise as he moves across the rocks, no slip of the foot to prompt a splash. The boulder that looks like it can provide access to the ship is examined, and a glance back at those still making their way across the rocks. He situates himself securely to offer a leg up to the next weyrling coming along, so his head doesn't poke as expected over the top where Sabella expects to see him. He does catch Alida's slip, "Y'alright?" He calls to the bluerider.

Dragon> He continues to investigate underwater, though Ilicaeth *does* have to come of for a good breath. Whatever he discovers below water is relayed to his rider and Ollie, the craggy dragon soon surfacing to take stock of what's now above the waves near the wreck. (To Olveraeth from Ilicaeth)

The deck is tilted, no longer level, and it's quite empty. The doors to the lower decks are closed, but, should someone give their handles a try, they're not locked.

ST> (To Alida): There's not much more to find under the waterline... or, at least, Ilicaeth has found nothing more. Though... is that a large box of some kind, a few feet away, resting upon the ocean floor? 

A little circling, a little whispering now, and this time, ''this'' time Solith makes it onto the rocks, and looks that much more proud of herself for managing, too. With a little sidling, careful of the rocks, she's able to let Tela slide right onto the deck, too... though the weyrling's extra careful with its angle, clinging onto whatever railing or line or ''whatever'' she can reach en route to the others. As for Solith, the green's staying put.

K'zin is- Oh, there he is. Sabella was looking concerned as her eyebrows drew together, but he does pop up somewhere. E'sren is around where she'd expect him to be, so she continues forward. With the deck tilted, she's moving carefully across it. The sound of Telavi's arrival onto the deck catches her attention and she glances to her, smiling quickly. "Nice arrival." She calls across to her, before reaching the doors. There's a quick glance to her bluerider companion like she might expect him to advise her to not touch the handles, but she does. Pushing of them inward slowly.

"Yeah-yeah..." Alida calls out to K'zin's inquiry, the blonde rubbing her hip and frowning before she starts climbing again...more slowly. She pauses now and again to ingest the information Ilicaeth's sending her, and finally the woman pauses to give him some sort of order...her features concentrating, eyes distant.

Dragon> He investigates carefully, noting everything there is to see, until Alida silently sends the blue looking after that large box he might've seen. << Somethin' in it? >> is simultaneously inquired of the elder blue and his own rider. (To Olveraeth from Ilicaeth)

No warnings are forthcoming from E'sren, even if the look he gives Sabella in return is a tense one. But there's a part of him that wants to be doing this, or else he would have tried to stop her a while back, like before the boulder. Instead he nods once, a subtle agreement. He hasn't taken his eyes off of her so he doesn't look at Telavi and K'zin, or any of the others, too important is making sure nothing jumps out to kill Sabella.

Nothing jumps out to kill Sabella. Win!

:'''Sabella trips on a hole and dies.

:'''And there was much rejoicing. Yaaaaay.

:'''E'sren sadsadsad.

:'''K'zin sets out on an epic quest to restore E'sren's smiley face.

:'''E'sren was full of many sads that day.

:'''K'zin leaves E'sren alone with his sads instead?

ST> (To Sabella): Past the doors, there's a narrow not-quite-staircase, more like a ladder. There's surprisingly little water at the bottom of it-- but it's dark. Maybe there are some glows in that cupboard next to the staircase. 

"Thanks," Tela calls quietly back from behind E'sren. And though she gives Sabs a look like maybe, just ''maybe'' something's tempting her... instead, she leaves the other greenrider be and tries a ''different'' door, quick to peek in if nothing jumps out from there either.

Dragon> To Ilicaeth, Olveraeth's answer is prompt. << I've no idea, >> he says. << Do you think you can try and pull it out? >>

ST> (To Telavi): The other door opens into a cabin, mostly filled by a big desk and a number of papers thrown about here and there: a mess. A ''big'' mess. There's a big stain on the floor, dark, like red wine. Or blood. The broken glass could imply either. 

Dragon> Like a good union man, Ilicaeth - in this circumstance, anyway - doesn't do shinola without a work order. When he hears Olveraeth and Alida urge him to try and recover the thing, the blue gives a mental nod, and dives down there after getting more air. Soon enough, forearms wrap about the box, and powerful strokes of hind legs and even wings, if necessary, propel him to the surface, his tail ruddering him true. (To Olveraeth from Ilicaeth)

Sabella steps in the dark room, edging along the wall to the cupboard that's next to the staircase-ladder within. She pulls the little doors open and sticks her hand inside, rummaging around. Something, anything? "Ugh!" The greenrider makes a squeaky noise and pulls back, shaking her hand out. "Damn spiders." She mutters before trying it again, ''this'' time coming out with some glows, lifting her hand up in the air. Hopefully this illuminates the room a little.

ST> (To K'zin): That's weird. The deck is empty, but past the set of doors, further towards the bow... is that a footprint, stained into the wood? And a second, a partial one? 

"Be careful!" Alida bellows out to her fellow weyrlings in her best drill instructor tones. "You feel the ship move, get the shell outta' there!" Because it can still sink completely.

E'sren is filtering in behind Sabella, already trying to peer into the darkness. Her squeaked exclamation makes him twitch, looking over immediately to make sure... Yeah, she's fine. Though his face is still a little concerned when the greenly light of the glows hits it, any of those times it does, and he steps carefully, further into the room.

Climbing up the boulder, K'zin shifts to join the others on the slanted deck, brown gaze bouncing around to take stock. Weyrlings present and unharmed? Check. State of the decks? Empty and looking like they've been through a bad storm. Nothing particularly shocking there. "I'd probably go below, if I were them." He says, to no weyrling in particular, and then he's stepping toward the doors after Sabella and company. He follows them in, brown gaze sweeping. There and back, there and-- stop. "Stop!" It's not particularly urgent, just enough to draw attention with a point to the footprint stained into the wood and a second, partial one. "Look." Stained. He frowns, moving to crouch beside one.

Telavi starts to barge in and then... stops ''short'', inhaling sharply, staring at the red stain on the floor and the ''papers'' and everything. Taking that deep breath doesn't seem to be helping any. "E'sren? E'sren, are you still out there?"

It's quiet, so quiet, so E'sren hears Telavi calling out from the other room. He seems torn for a moment, then says quietly to Sabella, "I'll be right back." And back he goes, through the open door behind them, out onto the deck. And then he appears in the doorway of Tela's room, his silhouette perhaps a calming thing? "Right here, Tel."

"Great." Sabelly replies dryly as she brings the light over by K'zin's stained footprints. Her eyebrows are drawn and there's some concern now, more than caution. She takes one of the glows in her hand and tosses it over to the bronze weyrling. Then she moves to the other side of the ladder and looks down, there isn't ''that'' much water at the bottom. So it's probably clear what she's thinking now.

Dragon> To Ilicaeth, Olveraeth's approval is fond and firm. Good. ''Good''.

ST> (To Sabella): Sabella's room is really more of a corridor, and it's full of crates and boxes, and only a ''little'' seawater. A few hammocks hang here and there, but they're all empty. Another ladder leads down lower... and there's ''definitely'' more water down there. 

The bronzerider accepts the glow from Sabella with a quick, "Thanks," and brought lower to take in the color of the stain, the size of the print, but he has trouble making heads or tails of it, or if he does make anything of it, he doesn't say so aloud. Even though it wasn't his name that came in Telavi's voice, K'zin's chin turns toward the source of the sound and he pushes onto his feet, glancing at the prints one last time.

Since others are doing the investigation, Alida remains the look out and weather eye for the weyrlings, the blonde curling her hand and digits into circles to form 'makeshift' sun shelters for her to peer through.

"Careful," Tela says without looking back, shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. "Broken glass. Do you see it?" And there's that smell, blood and something alcoholic, sharper than wine. "And the ''blood''?" That last part only quavers a little. "Do you think Quinlys would kill me if I threw this blanket over... she probably would."

"Yeah maybe don't, uh," E'sren is distracted, looking from Telavi and then in the direction of where he just was, where Sabella is. "Do that," he finishes, brow furrowed. And he drifts away.

Sabella slips down into the level that has some water, but not ''a lot.'' The corridor is full of crates and boxes, she tests the lids on a few of them to see what's inside. None of them are budging yet, but that doesn't keep her from trying. She gets to the next ladder and glances down it, the higher water levels keeping her from going down there just yet. Of course, she's moving further and further away from everyone else and she's mostly silent, so that's probably comforting. She just keeps tugging on the lids of crates, hoping to find a loose one.

ST> (To Sabella): ''Finally'' one of the lids comes off. Inside... grain. Lots of it. And dry, too. This one's more of a barrel-shape than some of the others; does that mean there's all kinds of things down here? All kinds of supplies? 

ST> (To K'zin): There's a railing, a few feet past those footprints, and... is that another mark there? Red-tinged? As if someone put a hand there as they vaulted across? 

"Okay," Telavi says to E'sren before he retreats, only it's more of an acknowledgement because she's going in, with or without the blanket-carpet. She bites her lip, hangs onto the doorframe for purchase, and starts easing herself into the room, ''trying'' to avoid stepping on anything but bare wood. The side of her boot will do for sweeping glass aside, and she'll pick up papers as she comes across them, but that stain... She breathes shallowly, like that will help her not ''smell' it.

Looking more like a blue submarine breaching the surface than a dragon, Ilicaeth keeps his forearms wrapped carefully around the box he's discovered while his rear legs and tail do the work of propelling and ruddering him along. A dutiful, but yet still companionably merry warble is offered to his clutchsibs up there in the sky and on the ground, Alida grinning and waving at her blue as she spies him paddling towards land.

Sabs pries one loose finally, holding the glow overhead to illuminate the grain within. "What's a shipment of supplies doing all the way over here." She murmurs to herself, replacing the lid and trying to pry up another. << Ilicaeth. Supplies. >> Since it would proably be remiss for her to not tell the present Cirrus wingsecond standing watch about it. Oh and maybe, << Olveraeth. >> The ship. The weyrlings. The supplies. Stained footsteps. Maybe now is the time to tell Quinlys.

ST> (To Telavi): The papers seem to have been torn out of something. If Telavi looks at them, closely, she'll see that they seem to be log entries, though none of them actually note the name of this vessel, or where she comes from. 

Telavi's on her own for the moment, E'sren is going back into whatever room he was in a second ago, the one with Sabella in it. When he realizes she isn't visible anymore he quickens over to the only other place she could be: down. "Sabella?" he calls. Marco?

Ooh! And now there's supplies, which could go far for the hard-put upon Weyr! With a salvager's glee, Ilicaeth rumbles around rainbow sands to his Wingleader, << I found a box, too! Be careful with everything...it might help us this Winter. >>

K'zin follows the prints, from the door, on the deck of the ship, to the rail, and he touches briefly a mark on the rail. His eyes do a 360* to take in the make of the ship. Might there have been a rowboat here? Or did whomever made the rail mark just take their chances with the angry sea.

"E'sren?" Sabella calls down the hallway and up some, to the bluerider standing at the top of the other ladder. "Down here. I found some barrels and crates, there's grain in them." A pause. "Ilicaeth found some outside the ship too. There's not much water down here. The next level is... deeper. I could go down there, maybe." But that's dubious and it doesn't sound likely that she's going to try it.

<< Supplies? >> Olveraeth sounds… both surprised and not surprised, as though he ''is'' surprised, but realises, belatedly, that he shouldn't be. << Where does the ship come from? >> he wants to know. << Have you found any… >> He won't say it. Survivors? Non-survivors? << Watch out. Keep an eye out. Stay ''safe''. >>

Dragon> To Ilicaeth, Olveraeth projects << Can yours open the box? >> Olveraeth's curious. << If she can... >>

It's just a passing glance, a habit, but all of a sudden Tela's staring at the one paper in her hand and then hastily moving to pick up ''more'' all of a sudden. Outside, Solith warbles to Ilicaeth, a little off-kilter but all too ready to recognize his hunting-gathering prowess, right before staring at the boat some more as though she could see right through all the timbers. What's hard are the papers that are ''wet''. Those get pulled up unhappily by one corner, and she sets them atop the desk with the clean pile before starting to go through the drawers, moving more quickly now. Her only pause is to glance upward and then, frowning, down. But Solith does reply to Olveraeth and the others, unhappily, << ''Blood''. >>

Dutifully passing along Olveraeth's blurb, Ilicaeth broadcasts wider this time, including all his fellow wingmates in his rainbow-sanded, << I've got the box up on the beach. Gonna' look around more at the underside uv the ship. It's got lotsa' holes in the bottom, so tell alla' yers not ta go too deep inside. >>

ST> (To Telavi): It looks as though these drawers have already been gone through, recently. The bottom one... huh. The bottom of it has been pulled out to reveal a secret compartment, and it's ''empty''. 

Dragon> Chuff! << She's comin' down, now. Gotta take it slower; the rocks're slippery. >> (To Olveraeth from Ilicaeth)

Sabella won't have to wait for a reply, E'sren has followed the sound of her voice and takes the same way she did to get down to her level, to find her, to see what she's seeing. No questions asked, he just ''follows'' her. The splash surprises him, when he drops down, but the water isn't terrible so he forgets about it and approaches her in the strange hall. "I'd rather you didn't," he offers, in case she was wondering his opinion on the whole her going deeper thing.

:'''And the the ship sank.

:'''And the weyrlings all drowned, The end.

:'''The ship lost its dice roll.

:'''Did we mention the kraken?

:'''Do ships get a morale roll?

:'''Oh shit. Not the kraken.

:'''Sure. Ships get what they want.

Already picking her way down those damned, slippery rocks, Alida falls another time as she nears the bottom, the bluie this time not bothering to hide her loud and elaborate swearing. That's now one ass-cheek, as well as a hip bruised.

ST> (To K'zin): There are some ropes hanging from the side of the ship, which ''could'' mean that there was a row-boat here at some point - or some kind of boat, anyway. But it's gone, now: there's no sign of anything, out to sea. Could anyone have made it, given the storm? 

"Ilicaeth is saying that the bottom of the ship is full of holes." Sabella relays to E'sren, even as she stares down the next set of ladders. Caution and maybe an innate sense not wanting to drown stops her. The set of hammocks along the wall gets her attention and she starts to poke around them. "Maybe we can find some personal things here, anything. Just to tell us who they were?"

Drawer, drawer, ''slammed'' drawer, another, and then Tela's swearing at the last one, which is ''not'' like the others but that hitherto secret compartment, it's ''empty''. Empty, and unbroken, no marks from being forced. Another frown directed upward leads to, << Olveraeth? >> and a flashed image of the place. << We think someone took things and is not here anymore. They took important things. >> Solith's tail is swishing, no more happily than before, but Telavi doesn't go up just yet; she scans the room, ceiling and floor, scanning for anything else that could be important.

ST> (To E'sren): Funny. It looks like some of the smaller boxes have been disturbed, and not in a random 'ship being rammed into rocks' kind of sense. Like someone went through them. Oh... and is that a foot? On the ground? Probably attached to a leg? 

E'sren nods agreement, mostly just relieved that Sabella isn't going to go any lower than they already are, and all too happy to do whatever ''else'' she wants to do. "Sure, okay." He didn't see her try to lift the lids on those crates so he tries now, and eventually comes to the one she opened with the grain inside. From there, he sloshes over one way until his foot hits a smaller box there on the floor, in the water, and he kneels to inspect it. The lid is askew. He furrows his brow and narrows his eyes, then lets them wander to the side slightly. To find another foot. Not his. Someone else's. All at once he's lurching forward, making a big splashy noise, to where hopefully there's also a person attached to that foot. Or maybe just a foot.

Well, the blood had to come from somewhere. Once the ropes that look like they could have once held a boat of some kind are examined with a keen eye, K'zin is turning back to the doors from whence the footprints came and heading within, poking his head through the first open doorway.

Dead bodies in the holds of shipwrecks aren't usually supposed to have their throats cut... are they?

<< ''Important'' things, >> repeats Olveraeth, uncertain. << But there are no people there now? >> His voice is lifted to ask the question of all of the weyrlings currently inspecting the wreck, checking in with them one by one. << If you don't feel safe, come back. >> But ''supplies''. ''Can'' they take the supplies? ''Should'' they take the supplies?

Those weyrlings who lingered at the campsite have no doubt been drawn in by the chatter between dragons, as a knot of them are on their way up the beach and towards the wreck now. They're from those weyrlings who were Cirrus before the group merged, with Aisha leading the way, followed by April, J'madri, N'ky and a few others. While most of them scramble across the rocks towards the ship, passing Alida as they do so, N'ky stays back on the beach, hesitant to attempt the same path given his recent injury. Cailluneth comes in from above to land heavily behind him, and he rests against her to watch.

ST> (To Alida): Once Alida gets to Ilicaeth's crate, she'll find that the lid is already partway ajar. It's all wet, of course, but inside... well. Salt-water shouldn't irrevocably ruin wool. 

"Yeah, that one has grain in it. Did I tell you that alrea- E'sren? ''E'sren!''." Because the sight of him lurching forward has her abandoning the surch of the personal belongings off to the side. She drops whatever was in her hand and splashes through the water to him, where she sees that foot sticking out. Her voice catches in her throat and she pushes one of the boxes out of the way to reveal more of the body. "Oh, that's... too bad." Because having your throat cut is never a good way to go. She's less disgusted by this than the spider however.

There's a person for sure, but when E'sren drops forward onto his knees and sees that the person is dead, and just ''how'' the person is dead, he reacts. "Sabella." In the only way that matters to him right now to react. Ahruth bugles again, a trumpet of warning, and broadcasts, << Dead! >> But that's all, and it isn't very helpful. E'sren is standing, backing away, turning and reaching for Sabella to take her and steer her back the way they came if he can, or at least to block her sight of the body on the floor of the hold. Too late for that, he just starts trying to get her out of this fucking hold. "Out. Out, out. We're done. Quinlys!" << Olveraeth! >>

Finally making it down to the beach head, Alida jogs to her dragon, and gives Ilicaeth some sound thumps of prideful congratulations and a rub of one of his lowered headknobs. Croooon. When the blonde moves over to the box, she finds its lid part way ajar. With some aid from her blue, the woman soon enough finds a bunch of seawater-logged wool. Uhm...ick? Through her blue to the other dragons and weyrlings: << It's wool...with seawater in'it. Can we still use this? >> Because, unlike Olveraeth, he's not at all hesitant about claiming the scavenger's rights. Ahruth's bugel makes both bluies look outward.

"E'sren, ''E'sren.'' We should check his pockets." And she puts a hand to his arm to stay him before he can drag her along down the corridor. Should he try to drag her along he'll find her completely uncooperative. "Wait, just wait. Please." She's polite for a person pulling herself away and kneeling down next to the corpse. She takes a breath and tries to ignore the stench as she pulls on his shirt, jacket, pants. Looking for pockets anywhere, to see if there's something on him that could help.

ST> (To Sabella): The guy has a tattoo on his wrist: a shipfish with evil looking eyes. His pockets are empty, except for the one in his shirt, in which there's a letter, folded up tight and worn with age and time, as though he's had it there for a very long time. 

Obviously shaken, because ''he'' doesn't see all that many dead fucking bodies, E'sren is shaking his head with a pained, sad, unhappy look on his face as Sabella resists. He wants out, out out out. But he doesn't do more to force her, just lets her move past him to the body, and listens with his back turned to them both as she roots around in his pockets. He puts his hands over his face and scrubs.

Looking through the rest of the room doesn't seem to make Telavi any happier, staring at what's there and, more importantly, what's ''missing''. It does let her glean a couple of pillowcases, though, so she can put the clean-ish papers in one and the horrible wet smelly papers in the other... only to nearly drop the latter, because ''bugling''. Is hers a room that has footprints leaving it? Because, after fumbling to recover the impromptu sacks, she's about to accidentally make more.

<< Dead? Who? >> Rasavyth queries, his ooze radiating calm and focus. The room K'zin's face pokes into is the one where Telavi is. He practically meets her at the door. "Alright, Tela?" He asks, looking a touch awkward. But, what's a little awkwardness in moment like this when there's dead things, blood, and all this going on?

''Dead''. Olveraeth is unhappy about this. There's definitely something of his rider's tone of voice in his, however, when he says: << You don't need to stay. Leave the body. Though... >> ''Supplies''. << We can use the wool, Ilicaeth. If you feel right in taking it. >> Does he? Do they? << Perhaps we should all assemble on the beach. >>

<< There's a dead...drowned person in the bottom, too >> Ilicaeth adds with no consternation whatsoever to his wingmates. << Alida wants to know how this other human died. >>

Sabs finds something in his upper pocket, it looks like a letter. She folds it and holds it close to her. And perhaps this is a thing or maybe not, but. She dips into her own pockets to pull out two worn small mark pieces, reaching out to close his eyelids and leaving her tokens there. For whoever he is. "I'm sorry, but we had to." She tells him, apologetic but not overly so as she tugs on the bluerider's arm. Leading them back up the letter and out onto the deck, the lighter is much better. She leans into E'sren and unfolds the paper to read it, holding it out for him to see too.

<< His throat was cut. >> Ghislaith announces with clinical detachment to Ilicaeth. << They're coming up now. >>

ST> (To Sabella and E'sren) The letter is a love-letter, from a sweetheart to her 'Raiskel'. She promises to wait for him, and will miss him every day that he's gone. It's signed 'Teiranne'. 

They're a salvage team, and first dibs, so of course Ilicaeth feels perfectly fine with taking the wool. << It would just rot, Ollie. Just like everything else. We earned the right of use. >> To Ghislaith, there's instant attention, his rainbow of sand turning a bit ochre in concentration. Pause. << Pirates, maybe? >>

E'sren is only too relieved to be able to get the hell out of that place, with the dead man, but sees Sabella up first even so before following her up the ladder and out onto the deck, out of that room and out into the sun. He's still got his face in his hand when she leans into him, but removes it to wrap his arm instinctvely around her waist, forces his eyes to focus on the words on the page. And at some point he winces and looks away, covering his mouth and pretty much just looking distraught.

Wide eyes. At least Telavi stops short of bumping into K'zin, though momentum makes her sacks swing forward without her. All that more-than-awkward, she can remember that later but right this second, "Oh! It's you. Don't go in, K'zin, there's ''blood'' on the ''floor'' and ''glass''," and reminded, she scrapes the sole of one foot against the doorframe and then the other. During that, "Do you know if the other rooms got checked? This might be the captain's, I don't know," and did she mention blood?

<< Waste not, want not. The grain in the hold is still dry. Some should go down and take it. Those that aren't too afraid that is. >> Ghislaith to Ilicaeth and Olveraeth.

Covering the box again, and using Ilicaeth's greater mass and leverage to close a few of the nails he once pried up along with the cover, Alida mounts up on her blue, and soon both are in the air, though Ilicaeth's a bit clumsy, given he's having to lift off and land with the woolly thing.

Olveraeth is uncertain, but Quinlys, it seems, is not. << She agrees. >> To all of the weyrling dragons: << If your riders are willing, set them to gathering up the supplies. We... >> It's almost funny. << Really will bring home supplies. >>

Dragon> << Agreed...though if it's too dangerous, screw it. >> (To Olveraeth and Ghislaith from Ilicaeth)

Sabs finishes reading the letter and exhales deeply. She stuffs it into the front pocket of her pants and untwines herself from the bluerider. She must know or feel that he doesn't want to go back down there, so she doesn't ask. It's not long that she's gone, but when she returns from below again that little bulge of paper from where the letter was living is now gone. If he asks or even looks like he's about to ask, "It wasn't ours to keep."

Ahruth has at last calmed, once seeing his rider safe and sound on the deck below, and glides to a landing on the beach with clean precision. E'sren reluctantly lets Sabella go when she pulls away, stands there on the deck breathing in and out in measures to calm himself. When the greenrider returns her explanation is warranted, he did give her a look, but understanding is quick, and he just shakes his head and quietly moves to help with unloading or whatever else might need to be done.

K'zin offers out a hand for one of the sacks Telavi carries, "Yeah?" comes his question once she's finished, "There were footprints. I think probably blood now that--" He glances over Telavi's head and swallows hard. "And a red handprint on the rail where it looks like there may have been a boat." He steels himself and glances behind her again. "Anything else in there? Any sign of where this ship is from?"

By now, Quinlys has made it as far as the edge of the rocks, her hands clasped tightly, warily, behind her back, and her gaze set firmly on that distant ship, and the weyrlings still clambering about on it. Her expression is tight; she waits.

Once Ilicaeth's not-too-gracefully landed and settled the box of wool to the sand - and Alida's skittered down his shoulder - she gestures the other weyrlings, N'ky over to help her pull that nappy and saltwater logged shit out of said box, after asking Ilicaeth to pry it open again.

Well, that was fun. But with Quinlys there on shore, Sabella clambers over the side of the ship and across the wet rocks. She's had enough of the stuff on the lower levels of the ship, thanks. There's a glance to see if E'sren follows or if he's left to help move things. Either way she departs the ship, perhaps disappearing quietly into the background for now.

Rasavyth has been circling, watchful for wider dangers, but after a time, he shifts his course, veering low. Though the small bronze has had issues with takeoff and landing in the past, his narrow frame gives him some advantages where agility is concerned when compared to others of his color. It is not difficult for him therefore to do a low pass.

Tela glances down at her impromptu sacks, and surely she must be sorely tempted to give K'zin at least the one with the bloody contents, her teeth pressing briefly into her lip. But, "No. No, they're bulky, not heavy, they're the same sort of thing and I want to keep them together," and she switches them both to the same hand to show him, looking up. "So he did leave. It looked ''sacked'', the important stuff gone... I'm hoping there will be signs in these, they looked like some sort of log, torn out of something? But we should look when we're off the ship. Do you know if the other rooms got searched?" With that, she's aiming to slip past him into the walkway, ''away'' from that bloody room.

E'sren is definitely coming, but he's bringing stuff with him. A sack, at least for now, as he follows Sabella and, upon passing Quinlys at whatever point, he gives her a grim look. It cannot be unseen! After this, and The Incident, there's no way he'll ever be the same. Never the same~

Awkwardness increased. K'zin turns so Telavi can get by him more easily, "No idea. I was on deck. Bloody handprint and everything." His baritone comes out a little stilted, then he's simply walking away from the greenrider, heading toward the ladder, looking down.

Dragon> A snapshot is delivered in vivid color as Rasavyth's sweep completes, the partial name of the vessel. The assumption is, of course, that the Weyrlingmaster is the Official Information Repository for this impromptu recovery venture. (To Olveraeth from Rasavyth)

Something about K'zin's tone, or ''something'', has Tela looking back after him, more baffled than anything. Until, all of a sudden it hitsl, "He could still be out there, K'zin. Out in the other boat. ''They'' could be, what if there are more? We should look." But the storm. What are the chances?

Dragon> To Rasavyth, Olveraeth acknowledges the information, and, presumably, adds it to the stockpile. This whole thing is getting... weirder and weirder.

K'zin shifts the glow he carries into his pocket, extinguishing the dim light for the moment and giving his eyes time to adjust. "Yeah. He could. Maybe they. If the storm didn't get them anyway. Whoever he was, he couldn't have predicted how bad it'd be." A shrug of his shoulders, "You should head back, Telavi. Give Quinlys what you found." And then he heads down the ladder.

Dragon> To Olveraeth, Rasavyth's curiosity is obviously piqued. << Is any part of this ''not'' weird? Besides that there was a storm and ship ''ran aground'', as they say in the nautical books? >>

"Soon." Tela has rooms to search, and search she does, one room and the next until... blood was one thing, but now there's a yelp that verges on a shriek, followed by a quick, "Okay, okay, it's just he's dead!" Solith's far less than excited about providing the image, the man's head bashed and the sharp wooden protrusion that might have caused it in his fall. At least it's not a slit throat?

Dragon> A sense of distance is conveyed in the way the reflected collective crowd voice only whispers in the background of the oozy tenor purr. A red banner flaps for attention. << I thought you and your Jo might be interested to know, though you didn't hear it from me... A ship ran aground in the storm in Southern. Perhaps nothing of note, but... >> A vivid image is conveyed, in the dim light of a single glow, a leering smile from a dead man's throat. << That doesn't seem particularly normal. >> Beat. << Does you or your Jo recognize this? >> Another flash, a tattoo on the wrist of one such man, a ship-fish with evil-looking eyes. (To Tacuseth from Rasavyth)

When K'zin reappears up the ladder, the glow is between his teeth, casting light on his markedly paled face. There are no smiles as he plucks the glow from his pearly whites. "Tela, you still here?" He calls as he leans into one doorframe and then the next, seeking her out.

Dragon> Shadows suddenly converge on that red banner. There's even further distance, but the image suddenly sharpen, as if to show that Tacuseth's attention shifts from what he focuses on to ''this''. << Interested, yeah, >> he sends in greeting. Some silence, and then, << No, she is not familiar >> he returns, with some uncertainty as he says it. << Yers found him? >> he asks now. (To Rasavyth from Tacuseth)

Dragon> To Rasavyth, Olveraeth's answer is amused, if in a dry, rueful kind of way. << Perhaps not. This is why we should never take you weyrlings anywhere. >> It's all their fault, obviously.

Dragon> << Likely not the first to. Perhaps the first to notice the mark. I do not know. Ahruth said dead, but I do not know what his E'sren saw. There is blood. The ''office'' >> an image, blood, shattered glass, emptied out, << looks to have been searched and footprints lead to what may have been a boat tie up on the side. Only one is dead from unnatural causes. The others appear to have drowned. They all bear the mark. If your Jo should find out what it is, do let me know, won't you? >> (To Tacuseth from Rasavyth)

"Yes...s. Almost done!" He can follow her voice, but if he waits it won't be long at all before Telavi backs out: she's gotten all too quick at this. Either way, she's still got the pillowcase-sacks, that blanket still tied incongruously about her waist, and the whites of her eyes are showing for all that her voice strives for calm. "A second... one. Dead one. A man." She's more on the E'sren end of the scale than the Sabella end, no searching the bodies for her.

Dragon> To Olveraeth, Rasavyth's amusement can't be helped; even, or perhaps especially, in a time as troubling as this, << Tch. I'd argue the opposite is true. This is why you ''should'' take us places. Firstly, because it gives us excellent ''life experience''. Secondly, because if you didn't, weird things would only happen at the Weyr instead. There is enough of that going around without something like a shipwreck on the shore of the lake when it's iced over. That ''would'' be weird. >> He provides a crisp mental painting of such an event, for amusement's sake.

Dragon> The mark seems to be mulled over from blue dragon and rider, the silence perhaps evidence of it before he returns with, << Could be a theft gone wrong, >> the musing likely more idly given by his Jo than by him. << Mine thinks this isn' uncommon. But, she will look into it'n see what can be found. >> Curiosity in dragon is certainly evident, and taking up random investigations seems like something they don't even hesitate to take up. (To Rasavyth from Tacuseth)

Dragon> Hah. Very amusing. << I don't know that we necessarily agree with that, >> he says, but it's not a completely dismissal of it, all the same. << Are you and yours coming back? It may not be safe. >> (To Rasavyth from Olveraeth)

The bronzerider is waiting in the hall when Telavi appears. He nods to her words, asking, "Did he-- she? have anything on him-- her?" That's a definite point toward the Sabs end of the spectrum for K'zin. "To tell us where they're from?" A pause, "There's more than one below. None-- none can be rescued." He notes with a hard swallow.

Dragon> << Should it become relevant, one had a love note. It was addressed and signed. So, two names linking two lives. Perhaps the writer can be found and convinced to tell more. >> A needle in a hay stack, to be certain, or as Rasavyth conveys it, a single grain of sand in the arena. He begins sifting thoughtfully. << The writer was 'Teiranne' >> A flash of the signature. (To Tacuseth from Rasavyth)

Dragon> More clues. Tacuseth sifts through all given, too, even if he's still distracted. Business, never stops for anyone. Then, << Could they be...pirates? >> He tastes the word, it clearly not a question of his own making. (To Rasavyth from Tacuseth)

Dragon> << Perhaps. >> The bronze allows, though there is no conviction to the possibility; he doesn't have enough information to make an educated guess. << The lack of identifying items might suggest that. They were carrying ''supplies''. >> (To Tacuseth from Rasavyth)

Dragon> Curiosity prompts Rasavyth's reach to the blue's mind. << Has your Alida seen death before? >> (To Ilicaeth from Rasavyth)

Dragon> There's a time delay before the bronze replies. << He is coming. Sort of. He got side-tracked with Solith's Telavi. He found many and more below, all dead. One whose throat was slit. Others drowned. Supplies that were unsalvageable. Solith's Telavi says there is another somewhere. >> (To Olveraeth from Rasavyth)

Dragon> If Tacuseth could nod, he would. Instead, he lets the spike of the crowd be an indication thereof. << Are ya bein' looked after? >> he asks now, showing the brief images of Meara and Quinlys - even I'zech. (To Rasavyth from Tacuseth)

"You're ''wet''," is the first thing Tela says, mistress of the obvious, and it's an exclamation. "You didn't fall in, did you? Water in the hold, right, some of the rooms downhill had some, is there much more water coming in down there?" All that comes before answers, but the answers come quickly enough afterward, paired with deep discomfort straining her features. "I, I didn't look. I really don't want to look. But it's that door there. And the other one," she's pointing towards where the walkway angles downward with the list of the boat. 'Downhill.'

"He was floating."

"Fall in?" K'zin sounds mildly surprised as if the possibility of such hadn't occurred to him. Everyone's invincible at eighteen, right? "No, I didn't fall in. But yes. More coming in. Much? I don't know. How much is usual for a sinking ship? Olveraeth says is mightn't be safe." He glances past Telavi from the direction she came. "Get ashore, I'll check quickly and follow you."

Dragon> Touched with pride at a job well done and only semi-busy helping the weyrling move about the big box full of wool, Ilicaeth responds with a certain weight, his raspy baritone steady, << Yeah. Lots uv times. >> (To Rasavyth from Ilicaeth)

Dragon> Quietly, the ooze seems less substantial than usual, affected by K'zin's deep disquiet. << This is his first time. >> A silence. << Perhaps yours can be a friend to him, later. When there is time to process. >> (To Ilicaeth from Rasavyth)

Dragon> Though he doesn't show the bronze visually, Ilicaeth lets him know, without words, that Alida, too, was disturbed at her own first sight of human death. A small golden eddy of sand skates by, promises, << She'll be there. >> (To Rasavyth from Ilicaeth)

Momentary relief's overlaid by the way her brows draw in. "Of course you didn't." Tela's voice is more wry than anything for the barest moment there. "All right, just, I"ll go, but I'll wait right at the base there," the way back up to the upper deck, "Just in case. It won't take long, and Solith's still right out there."

Beckoned by Alida, N'ky isn't long in joining her, Cailluneth making her way along behind him. The others have left to help on the ship, so it's just the lanky greenrider who looks cautiously at the box, squinting at the wool. "That'll need a ''lot'' of washing," he murmurs, recognising it as wool as he helps tug the sodden stuff from the box to lay it on the sand, where it should dry.

It doesn't take long. Ish. Long enough that it might give Telavi cause to worry; it takes time to search thoroughly. But probably just about the time that she might be thinking to call out or go check on him, he's reappearing, paler, still, than before. "Let's go." And he does, movements careful on the wet deck, but he doesn't take his time about it, just enough to make sure out of the corner of his eye that Telavi's not having an issue on the slippery wood.

Seperating and laying the stuff out isn't Alida's typical choice of work, but at least she's moving around, and out in the sun. Speaking of: the bluie stops, nabs something out of one of her larger beltpouches, and kneels in the sand while N'ky works. It's a jar with a screw-on lid, and inside is some kind of creme that smells lightly of coconut and other pleasantly fragarant things...the stuff applied liberally to her very fair skin wherever the sun can reach. "Smells nasty..." the blonde comments to N'ky, of the wool. Nose wrinkle.

Long enough that there was some pacing going on, long enough that Tela knotted the two pillowcases together to avoid their contents spilling out, long enough that... But after a look at K'zin's face, Telavi swallows the question on her lips and hurries. She manages the wood by following rails wherever possible, and then there's Solith, her bare neck leaning over for her approaching rider. Tela calls over, "There's a ride if you want one," but then there's also the more usual way, and she makes a quick job of getting up in preparation for an unremarkable glide down to where Quinlys and others are. Or, not ''right'' to where Quinlys is, far enough away to make Solith's state of undress at least a little less obvious.

"It's the lanolin," N'ky replies, crouching to run fingers over the fleece he's next to. He squeezes it the sodden wool, watching the water pool out. "The oil. They need to be w-washed still, but, um, they might shrink if they're wet and drying here in the sun, without a-anything to hold them out. We used to have racks for them." The hand that was caressing the wet wool is lifted to his nose, which wrinkles at the smell. "And the s-salt won't do them any good. They need to be washed, in, um, fresh water."

Dragon> Gust-scrape. << N'ky says this wool's gotta be washed in fresh water really soon, 'r it'll go bad. We figure there's gotta be a lagoon *somewhere* around 'ere. Either that, 'r people from the Weyr need ta pick it up now. >> (To Olveraeth from Ilicaeth)

Quinlys has a group of weyrlings around her, and a collection of crates and barrels from the ship's hold, though it's certainly not most of them. She's so busy talking, she doesn't even notice Solith-- though it's hard to know whether, at this point, she'd really care. "Well," she's saying, "It's not as though ''they'' will be using it, now. And that ship won't be leaving here in a hurry. If we knew who it belonged to..."

The ride is accepted. K'zin clmbing down upon Solith's arrival and heading for the Weyrlingmaster and her entourage. "Ma'am? They all had a tattoo. If that helps." Rasavyth obligingly shares with Olveraeth the exact image, "On their wrists." He chews his lip as though there's something more that he might say, but doesn't. He looks to Telavi and her sacks, curiously.

N'ky nods at Alida, before looking over his shoulder to Cailluneth. A moment of silent conversation passes between them, before he nods again, then looks back to the bluerider. "Um, l-let the dragons carry them. We'll not be able to, not that far. Cailluneth?" The green extends a paw, toes spread and flexed to pick up whatever's to be carried. "A, um, comb might help, too? If anyone's got one, that is." The greenrider with the permanently scruffy curls certainly doesn't. "Combing might help to l-loosen some of the salt."

Dragon> To Ilicaeth, Olveraeth's answer is relatively prompt: << The spring. As long as it's still there. >> The spring where they've been getting all their fresh water from. It isn't ''big''... but it's a start. << Let us know if you need anything more. >>

Which is a cue for Telavi, slightly slower what with having ''finally'' ditched that blanket by Solith, to offer up those pillowcase-sacks. Only then she stops to unknot them and then, even when they're open again, doesn't immediately give them up. Instead she reaches in, showing pieces of paper ripped from their binding. "They look like they're from a logbook, Weyrlingmaster, I'd like to look through them. I think they were from the captain's cabin. It looked like people left with enough time to take things with them." She's got her own look for K'zin, too, but doesn't yet say more.

"Not usin' my hair comb fer *that*..." Alida again nose-wrinkles to N'ky's suggestion, the woman just about to reply further when Ilicaeth interrupts her. A quirk of head in the blue's direction soon finds her looking back at the greenie again, and telling him, "Apparently we c'n use at least summa' the water from the spring. If it's there, uv course." Snert. "How 'bout we have Cai 'n 'caeth take all this crap up t'the spring, assign a detail ta' wash is up some while I search fer more water up there." Cue a point upward to the sky. "Since yer our local expert on wool, y'c'n supervise the efforts on the ground."

Tattoos. Logbooks. Bodies. Quinlys looks increasingly out of her depth, for all that she's widening her stance and drawing her shoulders back. Silver thread training or no, this is ''not'' something she's experienced in. "That sounds like a good idea, Telavi," she says. And, "I've no idea what the tattoo could mean. Or any of it. But you think some of them got away? Took things with them?" She turns her head, glancing out to sea. And, "I don't imagine we'd ever find them, even if we flew over and over forever. Maybe we should just pack everything up and go home."

It's a subtle thing, but since Rasavyth has been projecting his sense of calm and focus for any who'd like to benefit from it, it's perceptible when that exuding influence eases off. It can be extrapolated that it eases off of K'zin as well and that is why suddenly, just as Telavi looks at him, K'zin is turning and bolting as many yards away as he can get before he's doubled over, losing his last meal to a sandy grave.

"I f-figured I was ''done'' with wool when I left h-- Fa-- ''that'' all behind," N'ky mutters as he drags two of the fleeces towards Cailluneth, before going back to drag a couple more. When he stops he rubs at his left arm, wincing. "We'll need something to stretch them out, 'Lida. Heavy rocks, or something, unless, um, s-someone can whip up some racks real quick." He sounds doubtful as he bunches up the fleeces for Cailluneth to be able to carefully hold them.

Telavi's looking ashen all of a sudden herself, what with Rasavyth flipping the switch and the sudden retching and the reminder, the ''reminder''... "I was going to ask what it looked like, the tattoo," she gets out of her mental queue, darting a glance back at K'zin before, right, giving him at least that little bit of privacy again. More directly if shakily, "That's right, I ''forgot'', how ''could'' I forget, could we just look some, at least? What if they're just a little cove away? Or stranded, not too far even? We could rescue them and, and then they'd be safe, and we'd know who the things belong to without having to hunt, and... and everything."

"Fuckin' rocks enough nearby..." Alida mutters in return, her ass and hip reminding her of the presence of their smaller cousins impact upon soft flesh. With quick orders, the wingsecond sends three of her fellow weyrlings off to gather up the proper size and amount of rocks in some sacks she climbs up Ilicaeth's straps to grab from his packs...then tosses down to them. "Fly 'em t'the spring after Ilicaeth gives word we're there." It won't take long, hopefully. To N'ky is clipped off a quick, "Don't over-strain that. We got lots uv bodies ta' do work." Is that a groan from some of the less enterprising weyrlings nearby? No matter, she's back at it soon after covering her skin with creme, 'lida storing it back where it came from, then starting to gather up more wool, along with the now moving blue dragon of hers. A quick word from him has her glancing farther along the beach, where K'zin's now tossing his cookies. Sigh.

Quinlys' gaze leaves K'zin, giving him some privacy for his upchuckery, and focuses instead upon Telavi. "You don't think we should keep what we've salvaged," she concludes, in a way that stops just barely short of making it a question. She continues without waiting for an answer, saying, "If you'd like to try and hunt them down, that's fine. Take a few hours to do so. The rest of us will try and get all of this squared away. It can come back to the Weyr for now, until or unless we determine it needs to go somewhere else."

Dragon> It comes from experience: not his own, but Alida's, yet Ilicaeth shares, anyway. << Have 'im slowly eat some plain crackers, 'r bread. Not much, but enough ta' absorb the stomach acid. Only lukewarm water in tiny sips; too much, 'r too cold'll make 'im sick all over again. >> (To Rasavyth from Ilicaeth)

"I've got it," N'ky's reply is a tad sullen for the suggestion he's incapable of doing what he's trying to do. The greenrider's got everything in place that will fit in his lifemate's paws anyway, and he mounts up slowly, still favouring his left arm. One up and buckled in, he sits and waits for Ilicaeth's go.

Dragon> Softly, Rasavyth reaches for Solith and through her, her Telavi, as his swell of calm and focus resumes. Clearly the reaction from his rider has him reconsidering his choice to let it bleed off. << We will search with you, if that is acceptable to you and your Telavi. >> (To Solith from Rasavyth)

She's a little merciless, even with friends, in certain cases. "You re-injure that arm in any fashion, y'll be stranded South until it heals enough again. How bout' them apples?" Alida clips off to N'ky, the woman finally securing the bundles of *nasty* smelling wool upon Ilicaeth's back...the blue snorting at the stench, too. Once strapped in securely, straps double-checked, the woman looks around while her blue informs Ghislaith and Ollie what's up, and then gives N'ky the signal. Up up and away! Hopefully to find some dang real water.

The calm and focus revs back up. Clearly, the bronze didn't anticipate that very natural human reaction to encountering dead bodies for the first time. When K'zin straightens, he takes a moment to compose himself before walking sedately back to the group. Nothing to see here. He fishes in his pocket a moment and then he reaches out a closed palm to Quinlys, ready to deposit some marks in her hand once she's ready to accept it. And then, a folded piece of paper. "Clues," is his mumble.

"Yes, ma'am. I mean, about the hunting; about the gear, I was only thinking that it belongs to... though we ''did'' do the work of..." but with Quinlys having moved on, Telavi ducks her head and quits it right there. A deep breath later, she's looking significantly more like herself, and who knew that that breathing mantra really did work that well? With that, she ''starts'' to start for Solith-- but stays a little bit more because ''things getting handed over''.

Dragon> Solith's answer is, << Please. >> And it's tinged with fire. (To Rasavyth from Solith)

Cailluneth doesn't have the wool strapped to her back when she takes off; it's clutched within her two forepaws, held tight as she follows Ilicaeth towards fresh water.

Quinlys shoots Telavi a thoughtful glance, but K'zin's return, and his closed palm, have her extending her own hand, accepting what he gives her with several long blinks. "Uh," she says, as if she's singularly unused to being given money by weyrlings. And then, "Oh. I think--" She turns her gaze from one weyrling to the other, and then to the others clustered around, and then further afield to N'ky and Alida. "We'd better look at all of this back at the Weyr. Telavi, if you want to go do that hunting, better go now. Take someone with you." But possibly not K'zin.

"I'll go." K'zin volunteers. Possibly K'zin? He is looking better. Still paleish, but not looking like he's in danger of getting acid on Rasavyth's sensitive hide. Which... itches. Don't think about itching! Too late, K'zin has to reach to scratch the back of his neck. "I want to go," is added with more emphasis.

And of course K'zin's who Telavi looks to, what starts out as just a glance becoming a nod when he speaks up. And then a firmer nod. "So it's sorted, ma'am." If she's disappointed at not getting to see the details of the exchange, it still doesn't stop her from starting to bail, pillowcases and all. At least they'll be secured, and Solith's straps applied, before beginning the trek.

"Sorted," agrees Quinlys, even if she'll give K'zin a dubious glance first. Still, if he's happy to go, she's happy to wave them off, and turn back to their salvaged goods, and the process of getting them gathered up - along with what can be rescued from their campsite - in preparation for an early arrival home.

And the great Search For the Runaway Sailor(s)? Yeah. Nothing. Big ocean is big.

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Logs:Food and Lanterns

2013-06-29T02:44:32Z

Zian:

{{ Log
| who = E'sren, Sabella
| where = Some Hold, High Reaches Area
| what = E'sren and Sabs visit a way-out-of-the-way hold and crash their party.
| when = Day 2, Month 2, Turn 32
| gamedate = 2013.06.28
| quote = I kinda like this version better.
| weather = Snowy
| categories =
| mentions =
| ooc =
| icons = e'sren 19.jpg, sabella yetanotherhat.png
| log =

This hold could best be named, 'Middle of Nowhere' because that's how far out from High Reaches Hold it actually is. It's past sunset on a day that's quite cold and fridged. However the atmosphere doesn't feel that way. It's an event where the small hub of people have come out to celebrate the anniversary of some special happening or another. Even they don't seem to know. 'It's Alberto's turnday!' or 'No, no, idiot. This is the late winter festival!' or 'It's ''obviously'' for Jinet and Timaro's anniversary. Don't be so oblivious.' And while there's some friendly bickering, they've welcomed in neighbors with open arms. They don't ask too many questions about where a person is from, the food is ample (probably since they didn't tithe it ''all'' over to the Weyr) and hot. Lanterns are hung all over the leafless trees and a small pond has turned into a skating rink. Even though not everyone has skates, some are just slipping and sliding a little drunk over the thick ice. Meanwhile our heros have arrived, having left their dragons some distance out. Their knots are removed and they look like any other young couple that's at the hold. Sabella stuffs her hands into the deep pockets of her heavy coat. "E'sren, it's damn cold. I'm almost looking forward to going to Southern."

Where the dragons wait, Ahruth keeps his distance from Ghislaith as always, polite, but does sit down on her porch to keep watch with her, his tail very idly wagging and big ears twitching this way and that. His rider, also with hands in pockets, looks over at his companion and grins, his breath fogging the cold air. "Agreed. It'll be nice to sleep outside again." Which is a weird thing to say, unless you come from where he comes from. And even though they're both cold, he watches a cart go by carrying more food for the feast and nudges the greenrider with his elbow. "I bet we're eating better here. Come on, let's go get you something warm." E'sren unpockets his hand to put his arm around Sabella's shoulders and carries on with her to where the majority of the people are, to the tables laden with platters and baskets, bowls and boats of food; they pass under those lanterns and he looks up to admire them, commenting, "I want some of those for the ledge."

"Hmm. Sure, what with the huge bugs biting you and the sun beating down and all the spiders. It'll be just ''perfect.''" Sabella responds, a remark that could be counted as sarcastic. Except she's flashing him a brief display of a smile before leaning into him when his arm comes around her shoulder. "I bet too. I heard that we're not going to bring anything with us. I think we should steal bread and smuggle sandwiches." She suggests as they approach the tables, what an excellent leader! The greender nods politely to the holders as they get into line. Glancing up, she takes a good look at the lanterns. "They really are nice. They would look good on your ledge. Did you keep them on the wagons or glow baskets?" She asks curiously before pulling her hands out of her pockets and taking up a plate.

Naturally, E'sren lets her get into line ahead of him, and he too smiles thankfully at the holders gathering behind him, and those that are in front of them. He takes a plate after she does, scanning the food offered while replying. "We had both, depending. If it was windy we used glows, if it was calm we used fire. Ours had these oil wicks that would burn for hours. I always liked them better, glows are too green." Even now, in his weyr, he swapped the baskets out for lamps. Once the line moves forward and he's at a point he can start piling food on his plate he does so, a lot of food too. "I've never been to Southern. I'm kind of excited about the bugs." He gives her a grin, squinty eyes and all.

She really has an appetite for being such a slender thing, piling a generous portion of food onto her plate. "I agree. When I lived at the hold, light would at least come in through the windows where they have them. At the Weyr, the caverns are so... dark and close. I don't know, sometimes I miss buildings." When they reach the end where there's hot drinks over a low fire, she chooses the one filled with spiced wine and takes a mugful. "I haven't been there either. Except for when we did our between jumps, not a lot of time to investigate yet." As for him being excited about the bugs she makes an ew face and shudders her shoulders. "No thank you. Are you going to preserve some and put them on the wall of your weyr? I'm not sure I can keep visiting you there if you do." She teases before finding an empty bench under one of the trees.

"Claustrophobic," E'sren adds, also agreeing. "For us it was never buildings. We slept outside when the weather was nice, or in the wagons when it wasn't. But in the wagons, even though it was small, we knew we were under the stars. Not buried under rock and metal." They both choose the wine, and he murmurs a quick thank-you to the attendant there before they move on. "Oh, right. Between." Something he tries hard not to think about, though at least he's stopped shivering at the mention. He's smiling again when they sit for her teasing, sets his mug down and looks over at her. "Okay, I won't hang them on the walls," he concedes with no small amount of amusement. "But only because I'd miss you so much."

"Right, that's the word." Sabs nods when he gets it, putting a more appropriate term to what she described. "I slept outside a few times. But I can't say that I really enjoyed it, but then I wasn't born in a wagon or anything either." She gives her shoulders a gentle roll before carefully placing her mug between them, taking a fork to the food on her plate. "Come to think of it, I slept on one of those too once before. It was a long time ago." That comment comes between bites, her fork given a little wave. A long time ago. She reaches over and nudges him when he has that little shiver, she hasn't forgotten that long moment of waiting either. With a teasing smile, "And you won't put them in glass boxes under the pillows or on the ceilings or in ''my'' weyr to drive me out of it. I'm on to your tricks."

E'sren ducks his head when she nudges him, to drop a kiss to the top of her head. They both remember but it all turned out okay, and now here they are stuffing their faces. The next is a wince when she names off what might have been all of the tricks he had left. "I might have actually tried the last one, to drive you out. And into my weyr. 'Oh, there's all these bugs in your weyr, I guess you'll have to come live with me.'" He's joking, but in that way he has of joking where he might also actually be serious. "When did you sleep on a wagon? What family?" Because to him, wagons belong to traders and there's no other explanation for it.

And it really is good to eat in a situation where you don't have to worry about eating ''too'' much. Catching that wince she laughs under her breath, taking that moment to drink a generous gulp of that hot wine. "And it might have worked too! Right up until I realized they were all dead. And what a coincidence, they look ''just'' like those ones we saw at Southern." And when he uses that 'might also actually be serious' voice, she doesn't pursue it. If he decides he wants something he'll have to ''actually' be all the way serious with her. Sometimes she's funny like that. Damn women. "What family?" Sabs purses her mouth, eyebrows wrinkling together as she thinks back. "I don't know. Between Crom and Greenfields, they were a small group. Husband and wife. They had a little kid and then, there were a few other adults with them. But I got the impression the others weren't with the family ''all'' the time. But they all knew each other? Or were related? I'm sorry, it's about five turns ago now."

They laugh together at that, and really Sabella and E'sren laughing together is a pretty common thing. It looks as easy to the holders around them, to them they really are just some young couple here visiting family or something like that. Beyond their little bench, around a big fire, some dancing has started up, the music a little distant to them now but perhaps growing louder as the musicians get more into it and their fingers warm up. "Could be the Kaspers then," E'sren says after thinking about the location she mentioned. "They're a smaller family. They're actually blood relatives of ours but it's really vague like... my grandma's cousin's cousin or something." How those things so often work. "Where did you go with them?" His turn to take a drink.

"I feel like I would stop considering someone a member of my family after they were so many grandmothers and cousins removed from me. After awhile they're just friends you know really well. That you don't marry." Sabella is close to polishing her plate off, because she's a damn speedy eater and she can do that while they're talking. Which she has been. "They took me to Greenfields. They didn't want to take my marks, what I had." She smiles ruefully for the memory. "I watched their son for them along the way. I left my payment with them anyway, when they weren't looking. It only seemed right, they fed me. If I'd traveled the road alone it probably wouldn't have been such a safe trip." She looks past the fire to the people dancing, losing some of her attention to it as the music begins to pick up. "They wanted me to stay with them, but I didn't." Obviously. Because now she's here, rather than with them on the road somewhere.

Like usual, she's done a lot sooner than he is, so E'sren watches her finish off the last of her food with that fond little smile on his face he has so often for her. And maybe he feels like he needs to finish too, because he sets his mug down again and starts eating instead. While he's chewing he listens, and when he's done his furrowed-brow is coupled with a thoughtful quirk of his mouth too. "To us, family is a network. It's a spiderweb, and each one of us is important to all the others. Ma could probably tell you exactly who those people were, if they were our kin, right down to birthdays. It's crazy. And... so is this." That didn't make a lot of sense so he clarifies. "You didn't stay, and now we're here. If you stayed, we might have never met." And the way he says it, he doesn't like that concept too much.

There's probably a reason for why she always finishes so quickly, but that's more than likely a story for another day. Regardless her plate is completely empty rather soon. But there's still that mug of hot wine to enjoy and so she curls her gloved fingers around it. "Again with the insects. Is your family emblem a big crawler?" Sabs teases between sips, listening with an easy smile. "I don't know about that. Maybe we would have met anyway. But instead of meeting in the barracks we would have met at one of your family's big gatherings. And I would have had to convince you that I wasn't your cousin or aunt or something. Then we'd have known each other for turns instead of just one." Her smiles splits into one more entertained. "Life is crazy."

"Yeah," E'sren answers quickly, about his family emblem. Like that's obvious. And when she recounts how the alternate dimension versions of themselves might fair, he takes another forkful to chew on while he listens, and at one point he almost grins but can't because his mouth is full. So he swallows and, with the back of his hand pressed to his lips at first, nods. When he can talk he says, "I kinda like this version better. In this one we have dragons. Because if I had you all that time ago there's no way I would have gone with them when they came for me." When he was practically forced into Candidacy. "Anyway." Nevermind him while he scarfs down food and washes it down with more wine. The dancing has really picked up in the last few minutes and now a laughing group spins circles around the fire.

"That's true. I don't know about Ahruth, but Ghislaith has really grown on me this last turn. That and the being able to go wherever we want, whenever we want. I ''suppose'' that's the upside." Sabella reasons with a quirky smile, wrinkling her nose before she swallows down the rest of her wine. "Otherwise we'd probably be married with kids and a wagon and some big smelly animal pulling it. Dragons are way better. Come on, we should go dance. I'm sure it's much warmer by that fire too." She piles her mug on top of the empty plate, carefully placing the drained mug on top of it. Then of course, begins the pull on his arms to get him to get up too, faster.

Don't mind E'sren, he's just looking a little like he might be into that concept of them, as a family with kids and a wagon. But just for a minute, and then she's getting up and he remembers that they're not traders, they're bad-ass dragonriders, and that's all it takes to suck him back into this reality. Her pulling on his arms helps, and as she's doing that he's trying to finish off the last few bites. His mug is still full too, so he's holding his plate in one hand when he stands, and is tipping the mug back with the other. And also trying to take shuffling steps after her. Somehow he manages it, it must be all the juggling he does. They get rid of their dishes, there's a place over there for that, and walk hand in hand to the dancing circle, where at first they stand on the sidelines, grinning and watching, but then a moment in they're being pulled in by the merry-makers.

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Logs:Food and Lanterns

2013-06-29T02:43:48Z

Zian: Created page with "{{ Log | who = E'sren, Sabella | where = Some Hold, High Reaches Area | what = E'sren and Sabs visit a way-out-of-the-way hold and crash their party. | when = Day 2, Month 2, ..."

{{ Log
| who = E'sren, Sabella
| where = Some Hold, High Reaches Area
| what = E'sren and Sabs visit a way-out-of-the-way hold and crash their party.
| when = Day 2, Month 2, Turn 32
| gamedate = 2013.06.28
| quote = I kinda like this version better.
| weather = Snowy
| categories =
| mentions =
| ooc =
| icons = Icon e'sren 19.jpg, Icon sabella yetanotherhat.png
| log =

This hold could best be named, 'Middle of Nowhere' because that's how far out from High Reaches Hold it actually is. It's past sunset on a day that's quite cold and fridged. However the atmosphere doesn't feel that way. It's an event where the small hub of people have come out to celebrate the anniversary of some special happening or another. Even they don't seem to know. 'It's Alberto's turnday!' or 'No, no, idiot. This is the late winter festival!' or 'It's ''obviously'' for Jinet and Timaro's anniversary. Don't be so oblivious.' And while there's some friendly bickering, they've welcomed in neighbors with open arms. They don't ask too many questions about where a person is from, the food is ample (probably since they didn't tithe it ''all'' over to the Weyr) and hot. Lanterns are hung all over the leafless trees and a small pond has turned into a skating rink. Even though not everyone has skates, some are just slipping and sliding a little drunk over the thick ice. Meanwhile our heros have arrived, having left their dragons some distance out. Their knots are removed and they look like any other young couple that's at the hold. Sabella stuffs her hands into the deep pockets of her heavy coat. "E'sren, it's damn cold. I'm almost looking forward to going to Southern."

Where the dragons wait, Ahruth keeps his distance from Ghislaith as always, polite, but does sit down on her porch to keep watch with her, his tail very idly wagging and big ears twitching this way and that. His rider, also with hands in pockets, looks over at his companion and grins, his breath fogging the cold air. "Agreed. It'll be nice to sleep outside again." Which is a weird thing to say, unless you come from where he comes from. And even though they're both cold, he watches a cart go by carrying more food for the feast and nudges the greenrider with his elbow. "I bet we're eating better here. Come on, let's go get you something warm." E'sren unpockets his hand to put his arm around Sabella's shoulders and carries on with her to where the majority of the people are, to the tables laden with platters and baskets, bowls and boats of food; they pass under those lanterns and he looks up to admire them, commenting, "I want some of those for the ledge."

"Hmm. Sure, what with the huge bugs biting you and the sun beating down and all the spiders. It'll be just ''perfect.''" Sabella responds, a remark that could be counted as sarcastic. Except she's flashing him a brief display of a smile before leaning into him when his arm comes around her shoulder. "I bet too. I heard that we're not going to bring anything with us. I think we should steal bread and smuggle sandwiches." She suggests as they approach the tables, what an excellent leader! The greender nods politely to the holders as they get into line. Glancing up, she takes a good look at the lanterns. "They really are nice. They would look good on your ledge. Did you keep them on the wagons or glow baskets?" She asks curiously before pulling her hands out of her pockets and taking up a plate.

Naturally, E'sren lets her get into line ahead of him, and he too smiles thankfully at the holders gathering behind him, and those that are in front of them. He takes a plate after she does, scanning the food offered while replying. "We had both, depending. If it was windy we used glows, if it was calm we used fire. Ours had these oil wicks that would burn for hours. I always liked them better, glows are too green." Even now, in his weyr, he swapped the baskets out for lamps. Once the line moves forward and he's at a point he can start piling food on his plate he does so, a lot of food too. "I've never been to Southern. I'm kind of excited about the bugs." He gives her a grin, squinty eyes and all.

She really has an appetite for being such a slender thing, piling a generous portion of food onto her plate. "I agree. When I lived at the hold, light would at least come in through the windows where they have them. At the Weyr, the caverns are so... dark and close. I don't know, sometimes I miss buildings." When they reach the end where there's hot drinks over a low fire, she chooses the one filled with spiced wine and takes a mugful. "I haven't been there either. Except for when we did our between jumps, not a lot of time to investigate yet." As for him being excited about the bugs she makes an ew face and shudders her shoulders. "No thank you. Are you going to preserve some and put them on the wall of your weyr? I'm not sure I can keep visiting you there if you do." She teases before finding an empty bench under one of the trees.

"Claustrophobic," E'sren adds, also agreeing. "For us it was never buildings. We slept outside when the weather was nice, or in the wagons when it wasn't. But in the wagons, even though it was small, we knew we were under the stars. Not buried under rock and metal." They both choose the wine, and he murmurs a quick thank-you to the attendant there before they move on. "Oh, right. Between." Something he tries hard not to think about, though at least he's stopped shivering at the mention. He's smiling again when they sit for her teasing, sets his mug down and looks over at her. "Okay, I won't hang them on the walls," he concedes with no small amount of amusement. "But only because I'd miss you so much."

"Right, that's the word." Sabs nods when he gets it, putting a more appropriate term to what she described. "I slept outside a few times. But I can't say that I really enjoyed it, but then I wasn't born in a wagon or anything either." She gives her shoulders a gentle roll before carefully placing her mug between them, taking a fork to the food on her plate. "Come to think of it, I slept on one of those too once before. It was a long time ago." That comment comes between bites, her fork given a little wave. A long time ago. She reaches over and nudges him when he has that little shiver, she hasn't forgotten that long moment of waiting either. With a teasing smile, "And you won't put them in glass boxes under the pillows or on the ceilings or in ''my'' weyr to drive me out of it. I'm on to your tricks."

E'sren ducks his head when she nudges him, to drop a kiss to the top of her head. They both remember but it all turned out okay, and now here they are stuffing their faces. The next is a wince when she names off what might have been all of the tricks he had left. "I might have actually tried the last one, to drive you out. And into my weyr. 'Oh, there's all these bugs in your weyr, I guess you'll have to come live with me.'" He's joking, but in that way he has of joking where he might also actually be serious. "When did you sleep on a wagon? What family?" Because to him, wagons belong to traders and there's no other explanation for it.

And it really is good to eat in a situation where you don't have to worry about eating ''too'' much. Catching that wince she laughs under her breath, taking that moment to drink a generous gulp of that hot wine. "And it might have worked too! Right up until I realized they were all dead. And what a coincidence, they look ''just'' like those ones we saw at Southern." And when he uses that 'might also actually be serious' voice, she doesn't pursue it. If he decides he wants something he'll have to ''actually' be all the way serious with her. Sometimes she's funny like that. Damn women. "What family?" Sabs purses her mouth, eyebrows wrinkling together as she thinks back. "I don't know. Between Crom and Greenfields, they were a small group. Husband and wife. They had a little kid and then, there were a few other adults with them. But I got the impression the others weren't with the family ''all'' the time. But they all knew each other? Or were related? I'm sorry, it's about five turns ago now."

They laugh together at that, and really Sabella and E'sren laughing together is a pretty common thing. It looks as easy to the holders around them, to them they really are just some young couple here visiting family or something like that. Beyond their little bench, around a big fire, some dancing has started up, the music a little distant to them now but perhaps growing louder as the musicians get more into it and their fingers warm up. "Could be the Kaspers then," E'sren says after thinking about the location she mentioned. "They're a smaller family. They're actually blood relatives of ours but it's really vague like... my grandma's cousin's cousin or something." How those things so often work. "Where did you go with them?" His turn to take a drink.

"I feel like I would stop considering someone a member of my family after they were so many grandmothers and cousins removed from me. After awhile they're just friends you know really well. That you don't marry." Sabella is close to polishing her plate off, because she's a damn speedy eater and she can do that while they're talking. Which she has been. "They took me to Greenfields. They didn't want to take my marks, what I had." She smiles ruefully for the memory. "I watched their son for them along the way. I left my payment with them anyway, when they weren't looking. It only seemed right, they fed me. If I'd traveled the road alone it probably wouldn't have been such a safe trip." She looks past the fire to the people dancing, losing some of her attention to it as the music begins to pick up. "They wanted me to stay with them, but I didn't." Obviously. Because now she's here, rather than with them on the road somewhere.

Like usual, she's done a lot sooner than he is, so E'sren watches her finish off the last of her food with that fond little smile on his face he has so often for her. And maybe he feels like he needs to finish too, because he sets his mug down again and starts eating instead. While he's chewing he listens, and when he's done his furrowed-brow is coupled with a thoughtful quirk of his mouth too. "To us, family is a network. It's a spiderweb, and each one of us is important to all the others. Ma could probably tell you exactly who those people were, if they were our kin, right down to birthdays. It's crazy. And... so is this." That didn't make a lot of sense so he clarifies. "You didn't stay, and now we're here. If you stayed, we might have never met." And the way he says it, he doesn't like that concept too much.

There's probably a reason for why she always finishes so quickly, but that's more than likely a story for another day. Regardless her plate is completely empty rather soon. But there's still that mug of hot wine to enjoy and so she curls her gloved fingers around it. "Again with the insects. Is your family emblem a big crawler?" Sabs teases between sips, listening with an easy smile. "I don't know about that. Maybe we would have met anyway. But instead of meeting in the barracks we would have met at one of your family's big gatherings. And I would have had to convince you that I wasn't your cousin or aunt or something. Then we'd have known each other for turns instead of just one." Her smiles splits into one more entertained. "Life is crazy."

"Yeah," E'sren answers quickly, about his family emblem. Like that's obvious. And when she recounts how the alternate dimension versions of themselves might fair, he takes another forkful to chew on while he listens, and at one point he almost grins but can't because his mouth is full. So he swallows and, with the back of his hand pressed to his lips at first, nods. When he can talk he says, "I kinda like this version better. In this one we have dragons. Because if I had you all that time ago there's no way I would have gone with them when they came for me." When he was practically forced into Candidacy. "Anyway." Nevermind him while he scarfs down food and washes it down with more wine. The dancing has really picked up in the last few minutes and now a laughing group spins circles around the fire.

"That's true. I don't know about Ahruth, but Ghislaith has really grown on me this last turn. That and the being able to go wherever we want, whenever we want. I ''suppose'' that's the upside." Sabella reasons with a quirky smile, wrinkling her nose before she swallows down the rest of her wine. "Otherwise we'd probably be married with kids and a wagon and some big smelly animal pulling it. Dragons are way better. Come on, we should go dance. I'm sure it's much warmer by that fire too." She piles her mug on top of the empty plate, carefully placing the drained mug on top of it. Then of course, begins the pull on his arms to get him to get up too, faster.

Don't mind E'sren, he's just looking a little like he might be into that concept of them, as a family with kids and a wagon. But just for a minute, and then she's getting up and he remembers that they're not traders, they're bad-ass dragonriders, and that's all it takes to suck him back into this reality. Her pulling on his arms helps, and as she's doing that he's trying to finish off the last few bites. His mug is still full too, so he's holding his plate in one hand when he stands, and is tipping the mug back with the other. And also trying to take shuffling steps after her. Somehow he manages it, it must be all the juggling he does. They get rid of their dishes, there's a place over there for that, and walk hand in hand to the dancing circle, where at first they stand on the sidelines, grinning and watching, but then a moment in they're being pulled in by the merry-makers.

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

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<comments />

File:Icon sabella yetanotherhat.png

2013-06-29T02:42:06Z

Zian:

File:Icon sabella tense.png

2013-06-29T02:41:41Z

Zian:

File:Icon sabella rockon.png

2013-06-29T02:41:18Z

Zian:

File:Icon sabella smile.png

2013-06-29T02:35:49Z

Zian:

File:Icon sabella handsweater.png

2013-06-29T02:34:28Z

Zian:

Logs talk:Sudden

2013-06-24T01:43:30Z

Zian: Comment provided by Zian - via ArticleComments extension

<noinclude>Comments on "[[Logs:Sudden]]"
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[[D'kan/Comments|D'kan]] ([[User:D'kan|D'kan]] ([[User talk:D'kan|talk]])) left a comment on Mon, 24 Jun 2013 01:01:27 GMT.

<comment date="2013-06-24T01:01:27Z" name="D'kan" signature="[[User:D&#39;kan|D&#39;kan]] ([[User talk:D&#39;kan|talk]])">
I always enjoy seeing glimpses "behind the curtain", so to speak. Fill in some of the blanks, or just shed some light in general. Nice vignette!
</comment>
[[Zian/Comments|Zian]] ([[User:Zian|Zian]] ([[User talk:Zian|talk]])) left a comment on Mon, 24 Jun 2013 01:43:30 GMT.

<comment date="2013-06-24T01:43:30Z" name="Zian" signature="[[User:Zian|Zian]] ([[User talk:Zian|talk]])">
I enjoyed this a lot. :)
</comment>

Logs talk:Pirates Don't Like Nosy People

2013-06-22T02:49:54Z

Zian: Comment provided by Zian - via ArticleComments extension

<noinclude>Comments on "[[Logs:Pirates Don't Like Nosy People]]"
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[[Azaylia/Comments|Azaylia]] ([[User:Dragonshy|Dragonshy]] ([[User talk:Dragonshy|talk]])) left a comment on Tue, 18 Jun 2013 11:59:06 GMT.

<comment date="2013-06-18T11:59:06Z" name="Azaylia" signature="[[User:Dragonshy|Dragonshy]] ([[User talk:Dragonshy|talk]])">
Ha! Loved it. My favorite was Tacuseth's worry and his arguing with Jo when she agreed to put the sack on her head. It was interesting getting to see more of what our naughty bluerider gets up to when she's got the urge. ^^ The NPCs were really cool, and added a genuine flavor to the place.
</comment>
[[Aishani/Comments|Aishani]] ([[User:Brieli|Brieli]] ([[User talk:Brieli|talk]])) left a comment on Wed, 19 Jun 2013 00:45:23 GMT.

<comment date="2013-06-19T00:45:23Z" name="Aishani" signature="[[User:Brieli|Brieli]] ([[User talk:Brieli|talk]])">
I'd be pissed if I were Jo too!
</comment>
[[Alida/Comments|Alida]] ([[User:Alida|Alida]] ([[User talk:Alida|talk]])) left a comment on Fri, 21 Jun 2013 08:05:40 GMT.

<comment date="2013-06-21T08:05:40Z" name="Alida" signature="[[User:Alida|Alida]] ([[User talk:Alida|talk]])">
I was thinking - as I read - Jheebuz, Jo! Alida would throttle you for letting anyone purposely put a bag on your head! Aiyeeee!
</comment>
[[Zian/Comments|Zian]] ([[User:Zian|Zian]] ([[User talk:Zian|talk]])) left a comment on Sat, 22 Jun 2013 02:49:54 GMT.

<comment date="2013-06-22T02:49:54Z" name="Zian" signature="[[User:Zian|Zian]] ([[User talk:Zian|talk]])">
Alida isn't the only one who would throttle her! <3
</comment>

Logs:Negotiating Freedom

2013-06-20T04:43:42Z

Zian: Quinlys doesn't want to pick pretty, pretty icons for me~

{{ Log
| who = Quinlys, Z'ian
| where = Weyrlingmaster's Office, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Z'ian wants something. Quinlys doesn't. It works.
| when = Day 9, Month 1, Turn 32
| gamedate = 2013.06.19
| quote = "I got the sense they're a decent pair. Intelligent, apparently really motivated."
| weather =
| categories = A Lord In Exile
| mentions = Aishani, C'wlin, Devaki, Meara, N'hax, Taikrin
| ooc =
| icons = quinlys serious.jpg, z'ian front.png
| log = Weyrlingmaster's Office, High Reaches Weyr

----

Made private by a thick, insulated door that blocks out most of the noise from the barracks beyond, the Weyrlingmaster's Office is a comfortable, quiet alcove. Instead of an imposing desk, much of the room is taken up by a large round table, with five chairs spaced around its edges. Beneath it is a square rug pieced together with twisted rags that stretches from wall to wall, just leaving room for the long bookshelves and filing cabinets. On the back wall, a tapestry of the Weyr's badge is hung, providing both insulation and decoration.

In one corner sits a small green plant, growing strong despite the lack of sunlight in this windowless room. Beside it rests a tea cart, prepped and ready.

----

With the weyrlings spending their afternoon shadowing wings, the weyrlingmasters have a lot more freedom-- and a lot less work to worry themselves over (thankfully). Thus, it may only be mid-afternoon, but Quinlys has already closed the file she was working on, and is now lazing back in her chair with one leg draped over the table, and the other curled beneath her. There's a good chance that there's more than just klah in her mug, too, given the faint pinkness in her cheeks. The barracks are relatively quiet, despite their continued state of inhabitance; the door to the office is open.

"Hello?" The greeting proceeds the rap of his knuckles against the frame of her doorway. Z'ian can see Quinlys in there of course, his eyes dropping to the mug in her hands and then catching onto the faint pink in her cheeks. His smile is easily lopsided as he makes his way inside, "Do you have a couple of minutes? Not a social call unfortunately." He shrugs his shoulders semi-apologetically and leans forward, bracing his hands against the back of the chair that faces her across the desk. "I wanted to talk to you about that pair out there." One thumb jerks in the direction of the barracks beyond the door.

Red brows raise, and the smug smirk that begins to show fades out, turning rather more into a ''grimace'' by the time Z'ian gets to the point of his visit. "''Them''. Pity." She pulls her leg off the table, and slides the other one out from beneath her, abruptly more business-like… and far less reminiscent of the ''last'' time the pair of them were in this office. "I have some time. Please tell me they haven't managed to fuck up something ''else''. Please."

Z'ian ''does'' look apologetic. He pushes off of the chair and reaches back to close the door to her office, presumably to prevent the pair beyond from attempting to eavesdrop on their conversation. "They haven't fucked up anything else that I know of." He drops down into the seat now, inching forward to put his hands onto her desk. "I was thinking, they're not doing themselves or you any good in there. I got the sense they're a decent pair. Intelligent, apparently really motivated. They need their energy channeled elsewhere. Let me have them. Your fledglings are about ready to graduate ''anyway.''"

Of all the things it might have crossed Quinlys' mind to anticipate, this is… not something that came up, clearly, because her surprise is visible: her eyebrows lifting all over again, her mouth dropping open, her gaze seeking and searching for ''something'' in Z'ian's expression. "You actually ''want'' them? Shells, I didn't think we'd find any wing to take them. I figured someone would have to be forced into it, probably buttered up with other weyrlings of their choice, or something."

"I actually want them." His smile is crooked as he rakes his fingers through his hair, "I have a thing for troublemakers." Z'ian glances back over his shoulder to the door. "N'hax worked under my brother now and again when they were both at the crafthall in Telgar. I'd be remiss if I didn't give his former apprentice a shot at a second chance, all things considered. C'wlin's just as promising too." Shifting back to her again, "So does that mean you'll let me take them on?" His smile shifts from crooked and a bit mischievous to something more charmingly pleading.

The explanation seems to do something to ease Quinlys' so-obvious concerns, though it doesn't entirely remove her bewilderment. "I can't let them graduate early," she says, promptly. "That makes it seem like a reward, and it can't be that. But," she glances at him, chewing at her lip, as she reaches for her mug again, pale fingers twining around the handle. "I can assign them to shadow Boreal. ''You'' and your wing can make sure they're proficient with Between - they've only had basic training - and ''you'' can be responsible for anything they do. But they'll be weyrlings until I say they're not. Theoretically, Taikrin assigns them to wings, but no one'll argue you for them. I can make it happen."

Z'ian doesn't raise any objection to that, "That's not a problem. I've got a couple of them in my wing that would be more than up to the task. And of course, I'll work closely with them. They won't have the spare time to get into anymore trouble before they graduate or afterwards." He grins lopsidely again and shakes his head. "Yeah, there's probably not a big market for them right now. But hey, I think they've got the makings to be good riders. Just, you know. Maybe if they can be steered away from breaking into any Holds for the indefinite future."

"Did they ''really'' think it was going to work? That they were just going to sail in and then out again, scot-free?" Quinlys doesn't wait for an answer to that, just stares, moodily, into her mostly-empty mug. It gets set down again, right as her gaze lifts back to Z'ian. "Well, I hope so. For your sake. I definitely ''don't'' want to be considered responsible for anything they do from here on in. It was bad enough the first time, you know? ''Idiots''. We've the weyrling camping trip, next month. I suppose I'll have to let them come to that, this time."

"Probably?" Z'ian's offering of an answer isn't likely to make her feel any better. But he knows that and she probably knows it too, from the look on her face. "I'm used to it by now, I think. Being held accountable for others unusual decisions." He laughs wryly and glances at her mug of 'klah'. "If they're driving you to drink, maybe we should get you something more exciting? Fuck, you wouldn't be the first Weyrlingmaster that keeps a bottle around to indulge in." And as for whether they'll be allowed on the weyrling camping trip or not, "Yes, this time. But think, soon you won't have to see much of them at all."

Quinlys' reaction to that probably is a rueful snort; for the rest, she just laughs. "Meara would be horrified, but… I keep a bottle in the bottom of the filing cabinet, just in case. This job, it's harder than I expected it would be. Or maybe it's just that ''this group'' is harder than I expected them to be. Anyway." She nudges the mug away, grimacing at it, and adds, "Mm. Yes, true. Your problem altogether. Don't let Taikrin murder you, okay? Or they might end up on my hands again, and please no. We'll probably ask you - or someone will, anyway - if there's anyone else you want, sooner or later, anyway. Keep an eye out, maybe?"

"Meara should ''probably'' retire, don't you think? This is your office. Your desk. Put the damn bottle in the drawer of it. Let her be horrified." Z'ian shoots her another one of his broad smiles, "You're ballsy enough to stand up to the old guard. Stake your claim." He stretches his legs out before pushing the chair backward and getting to his feet again. "Oh, well. I can't make any promises on Taikrin murdering me or not, I'm not exactly her favorite rider these days. But then again, who ''is?''" For her advice he tips his head towards her. "I will, don't worry about that. I'll try not to die too."

Quinlys' eyes light, no lie. "She ''should''. I'm hoping she will, as soon as this clutch is gone. They've been so much trouble, isn't it time for a rest?" She seems terribly, ''terribly'' pleased by this. "Maybe I will. She can be my Taikrin, only more feeble and less likely to actually commit violence on my person-- not that Taikrin's that bad, really. She's just frustrated." And Quinlys is just loyal. "No dying. Good. It's a deal. I'll let you inform them, then. Lay down the law. ''And'' the smackdown, if you need to. And don't let them forget for a ''moment'' that it's their fault we're all going to go hungry this turn."

Z'ian is about to open the door, his fingers resting on it before he turns to regard her over his shoulder. "Interesting, isn't it? That Devaki used a method similar to Edeline's? That N'hax and C'wlin were able to get as far as they did? That they just ''let'' the pirates go with hardly a punishment after causing a ship to sink? Endangering lives? Seems odd to ''me'' that two weyrlings being rash and stupid would be enough for him to cut off tithes to us for a whole turn." The bronzerider glances down to the floor, "Very strange, actually. Perhaps they were just pawns? A convienent excuse. But what do I know?" When he looks up again it's with a quiet sort of smile and yet another loose shrug of his shoulders.

Oh, Z'ian. Quinlys' mouth opens. It closes again. And then she shakes her head. "''I'' don't really care, to be honest. All these conspiracy theories. What I ''do'' care about is making sure it doesn't happen again, because I don't want to be cold and hungry. So…" She waves Z'ian away. "Just stay out of trouble. If you can." Her expression, however, is doubtful… she may already be regretting this.

"Just something to think about. That and... well ''they'' weren't the ones to send the tithes we did receive back to the Hold." But Z'ian has to know he's really pushing the imaginary welcome mat that's out in Quinlys' office. Because he pulls the door open quickly and steps out, poking his head back to add on, "Thank you." Then getting out of there before she can change her mind.

Quinlys stays, quite still, for some time after he's gone. It... well. It looks like she's thinking ''really'' deeply. And not necessarily happily. In fact... not happily at all.

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

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Logs:Hears All Drag- Bullshit.

2013-06-20T04:36:06Z

Zian:

{{ Log
| who = Sabella, Jo/ST{{!}}Jo as ST, Jo
| where = Outside Sattle Hold, High Reaches Area
| what = Sabella goes to make I'zech's drop. It doesn't go as planned.
| when = Day 9, month 1, turn 32
| gamedate = 2013.06.20
| quote = Would it be more believable if I told you there's a woman in Nerat with two pairs of tits instead of one?
| weather = Foggy
| categories =
| mentions = I'zech
| ooc =
| icons = sabella outside.jpg
| log =

Outside Sattle Hold, High Reaches Area

It's a night like most others in this area - quiet out by the Hold's pastures where runners and herdbeasts a like can be seen grazing and sleeping lazily. To the casual eye, nothing's amiss and no one's where they aren't suppose to be. To the eyes far sharper, however, one can spot the tall and lanky young man hanging out behind a tree with a worn yellow sack upon the ground beside him. One can tell the young man's either loitering or that he could be one of holder stableboys - outside, waiting for a liaison with some pretty holder girl. He has the look, at least, and that's not out of the ordinary in a place like this, right?

She's a quiet thing, that girl he's meeting tonight. Sabella approaches from behind, casually brushing her hands over his hips before slipping around in front of him. The greenrider's dragon isn't immediately visible and she doesn't necessarily ''look'' like a rider herself this evening. She's wearing a jacket that's warm enough to ward off the weather, but nothing like traditional riding leathers. "Have we met before?" She asks with a slow flash of a smile as she moves out of the reach of his hands and arms.

Narigan nearly jumps out of his skin by the sudden touch of hands, turning towards Sabella with a hand going immediately towards his hidden knife at the side. "Who the-?" he starts out, frowning heavily at her for a few moments before he pauses and then ''really'' takes her in. All of her, from head to toe. He's not hiding that fact, either, though now his free hand is patting towards his jacket pockets before darting a suspicious look her way. "You didn't take anything from me, didja?" he asks outright, looking her over as if anything from him will just appear on her person. He looks around her age, and every bit what I'zech had described of him. In fact, "No, I don't know you," he finally chooses to answer her, straightening up to slip away from the tree (and her). "And I don't think you're who I'm looking for, missy, so you best be on your way."

"If I took something from you don't you think you'd notice it was missing?" Sabella questions back, leveling him with a disarming smile as she puts one hand onto her hip. The other goes to the canvas bag slung around her neck, one that she reaches for the buckle on. He jumps and goes for his knife and she looks utterly unconcerned with that the action, seeing as how she's beyond that reach of him anyway. "Oh, I'm not? I thought you looked like someone I would know. Well, I'm supposed to be meet someone here. So if you're not ''not'' Narigan, than you best be on ''your'' way. Because I have business here."

"Should I frisk you and find out?" There's a toothy grin from Narigan, the young man looking like that's an option he would very much like to put into action. He even demonstrates by lifting up both hands with wiggling fingers. Enticing. Sabella's latter words have him waving one hand away as he states, "Hold up, hold up. I'm Narigan, but you ''can't'' be I'zech." It's noted with a deliberate look towards her chest. "I was imagining someone ''less'' hot and handsy. Not that I mind the change, but then, changes like this can make my boss and ones like me a bit suspicious. I mean," and he takes up leaning his lanky frame against the tree, "how do I know you're not just some girl that's ''heard'' of this meeting, coming by to rob me blind? Or to knife me for the information ''I've'' got?" He's smiling now, at least.

"Or you could check your ''own'' pockets and see if what's there before is ''not'' there now. But I can see where that might be too confusing for you." Sabella lifts her slim shoulders, that hand stilled over the buckle on the bag. "How observant. No, I'm not I'zech. But I do have what you're waiting around for. Of course..." And here she takes the opportunity to wave her hand around at the general area they're in. "If you'd like to wait around all night and see if he shows up, that's on you. I get paid either way." Now the greenrider presents him with another smile, seeming intent on ignoring the looks and comments for the time being. "Also, if I knifed you? I don't imagine you'd be doing much talking for very long. Dead people are often silent."

Dragon> Assuming that Rojeth was helpful enough to pass on some directions, now the chill mist sweeps in, prickly with ice crystals. << Has he come? >> (To Ghislaith from Rojeth)

Dragon> The wood groans with the weight of her observation. << He was here first. >> There's an image of the pair talking swept along to the bronze. << He does't believe that she comes in place of you. >> (To Rojeth from Ghislaith)

Dragon> To Ghislaith, Rojeth is hardly surprised, though the fog swirls around that image she's sent, hunting for details. << He wants to get paid, doesn't he. >> There's extra hiss in his rasp, impatient perhaps -- though with what is entirely unclear.

"I think I like my option better," Narigan's quick to counter on that score. "But thanks. Once I check my pockets and find things amiss, I'll just make it my mission to come find you. It's what I'm good at doing, anyway." Either way, he doesn't look all that concerned on whether Sabs stole from him or not. Moving on, "So what is it I'm waiting for, then?" he asks, watching her. "Cuz, what I've got's pretty important, too. I would think for something like this, he would've wanted to be here for it instead of sending someone in his stead. Show me," what he wants to see, presumably. That last gets an even wider smile from him, simply replying back, "Ahh, but there's many dead people that can tell tales, too, pretty lady. You can be surprised."

That garners a quick round of lighthearted laughter from her. "Oh, go right ahead and look for me." Sabella snaps open the buckle on the bag to pull forth a pouch of marks. She's cautious of their distance now, opening the bag to flash him the contents inside before quickly pulling it closed. "You're waiting to get ''paid'' aren't you?" There's a distinct sigh there, as if Narigan's beginning to bore her while they banter back and forth. "He had a scheduling conflict. Perhaps what he wants from you isn't as important as you think that it is? Meanwhile, we talk and the night drags on. So you either want to make the exchange or you don't." And it's not exactly that important to ''her'' or so she makes it seem. "Interesting. But hardly the point."

Dragon> She can sense the hunt in him. With an effort, the next image she sends to him is further detailed. More expressions, more emotion portrayed through it. The unsurprising level of distrust and general lack of good opinion from Sabella is distinct. The scene is still simple, the pair standing out of each others reach. Posturing for the upperhand in the exchange. << Perhaps not. He seems unhappy that yours isn't here. >> (To Rojeth from Ghislaith)

"You doubt my prowess," Narigan seems to chide with a tsk. "They always do." Hazel eyes drop towards that flash of marks, her choice of words drawing a wry, "Yeah. Get paid, and shit, don't matter to me if this don't get him hard. I've got plenty of others that will think otherwise. Either way, like you, I get paid." Flippant in the end, since business is what brings them together, "We'll make the exchange, pretty lady. Marks for information." Arms folding across his chest as he takes a breath, "Let's just say that someone I know has someone that ''everybody'' would want around." Leaning a bit forward, "I'm not talking some jumped-up renegade or anything, either," he clarifies. "I'm talking someone that would be pretty valuable to any lookin' to keep outta the way of pesky dragonriders," and there's a slight smirk to that. "You see..." and his voice drop, both brows lifting as he pins a pointed look onto Sabella, "...this someone hears all dragons. We know where they are."

Dragon> To Ghislaith, Rojeth is at least moderately satisfied by the improved details, clammy fingers having inspected all there is to inspect. << There's always someone who's unhappy. >> And there is a sense that Sabella isn't the only one dealing with a sourpuss. Rojeth might usually sound a bit more indifferent about it, but tonight there's that edge of irritation.

Dragon> The next image comes forward and then it stops, pulled back as if Ghislaith herself is examining it to determine its correctness. She reluctantly forwards it to Rojeth, complete with her own brand of skepticism stamped on it. << He says that he knows the location of one that hears all dragons. >> (To Rojeth from Ghislaith)

Dragon> To Ghislaith, Rojeth projects << Bullshit. >>

"I can't imagine ''why''." Sabs responds dryly, even as her eyes begin to trace over his form. When he begins to speak, she ''is'' listening. Right up until he makes the big reveal. And the greenrider has to stop herself from beginning to laugh, what comes out instead is something of a short bark. "Do I look like an idiot? I was sent here for information, but I suspect now that you're just fucking with me. I can't go back to I'zech with some crazy story about a person that can 'hear all dragons'. I mean ''honestly''." Her skepticism is clear, very clear.

Dragon> The image this time is just of Sabella's expression, more or less mirroring what Rojeth has just said. (To Rojeth from Ghislaith)

Dragon> A smug calm lets the mists go still and patient again. (To Ghislaith from Rojeth)

Hands lifting away from his body, "Would it be more believable if I told you there's a woman in Nerat with two pairs of tits instead of one?" Narigan tosses back at Sabella's skepticism, archly. Then more seriously, "That's the news. Take it or leave it. Just leave your marks on the ground on your way out." Arms come to fold now, watching the other with mild interest. "And besides, isn't for ''you'' to believe, is it? I'm sure he's not paying you for ''that''."

"Nope." Sabella glances at that point on the ground before she lifts her shoulders, almost apologetically. "Unfortunately I'm going to have to leave it. And unfortunately for you, I'zech didn't pay me to come here and just hand his marks over for some bullshit made up story." The greenrider unbuckles her bag and drops the marks back in before beginning to carefully step back. "Because if he was here, I doubt ''he'd'' pay you."

Dragon> The tension seeps into Ghislaith's next correspondence. Sabella backing away, clearly ''not'' giving the bucktoothed man the marks he was expecting for the bullshit story he was selling. (To Rojeth from Ghislaith)

Openly outraged, "It's ''not'' a made-up story!" Narigan shoots back hotly. "I've seen them myself! A seven from now? He can too!" Stepping off from the tree as he fishes into his jacket for a folded sheet of hide, "Have him go there a seven from now," he offers, still looking mulishly at her. "He's dragonrider, right? He'll get his proof. In the meantime, if you send me back from this with nothing but wasted time, what happens to ''me'' will hang over ''your'' head." He stares hard at Sabella now, waiting.

"But ''you're'' not a dragonrider. So how do you know they're hearing all dragons?" Sabella is rightly dubious and she hasn't unbuckled the bag to give him any of the marks. That paper is regarded suspiciously and the greenrider dances forward to snatch it out of his hand quickly. She'll glance the words over, "For that kind of claim you'd need to have more than just words on a paper. I'd practically need you to have them here in front of me. You want me to send I'zech on a wild chase across Pern? You want him to go to some bumblefuck hold outside of Ruatha?" That threat of bad things happening to Narigan doesn't seem to move her, she's steeled against it. "Please. Here. I'll give you a quarter of what he was going to pay you originally, since you gave me a ''quarter'' of worthwhile information."

Dragon> To Ghislaith, Rojeth hesitates, but only for a beat, distracted by whatever it is that I'zech himself had to handle tonight. << Threaten to leave. >> Though perhaps there's some sense that he half expects Sabella has done this already.

"I was there ''with'' a dragonrider," Narigan's scowling her way now for questioning his claims. He lets her snatch the paper away before adding, "What I'd gotta prove to ''you'' for?" he quips back. "You're just the messenger! I'm sure I'zech's a big boy and can handle himself, but you know what?" He brushes his thumb across his nose as he sniffs, taking a look about them. Then he collects up his sack from the ground. "Fine," he gives. "Go see for yourself. I'll give warning, though. You're not who they're expecting, and they don't like surprises." Looking her over regretfully, "They're not going to like being jipped, either," he adds stiffly on the marks. "But by all means, since I'm blowing smoke up your ass. Come." He throws that strap over his shoulder as if preparing to depart before he says, "Anyway, that's all I've got. I've done my job. The marks?" A hand goes out as he steps to her.

"Right, you were there ''with'' one. That's just like being one. As if a dragonrider from somewhere wouldn't snatch up a person that hears all dragons for their own weyr. For their own gain immedidately." Sabella takes a step back as she opens her bag, finds that pouch of marks. But she doesn't even hand him over a quarter of the marks. It's just one piece that she flips towards him. "For your trouble." And since she's a quick moving thing, she's backing away from Narigan (even as that paper she took from him disappears into her pockets somewhere) pretty rapidly. "He ''is'' a big boy. And he's ''not'' going to like hearing that you tried to blow smoke up my ass to get some quick marks out of him. So, I'll see you around. If you can find me, ever, ever again that is."

Dragon> Suspicions confirmed. The moving image of Sabella flicking one mark through the air towards the greatly irritated Narigan. << We're leaving. >> (To Rojeth from Ghislaith)

Dragon> Antsy. Somewhere shrouded in the fog, things are moving. << Did he give her anything? >> Rojeth wonders. << If he's not pissed enough to talk now... >> Then he's not sure what would convince the man to hand over whatever it is he knows. (To Ghislaith from Rojeth)

Dragon> To Rojeth, Ghislaith projects an image with some words on it. But they're indistinct for her, it was too fast for her to get a clear picture. << He gave her a paper, she kept it. He says some people are going to be angry that she chipped them. >>

"Not from the folks I work for," Narigan says with a little smirk on his face on the first. "They're not exactly...easily accessible." But then he has current troubles to deal with more than trying to convince Sabella - one mark piece has him tossing out an angry, "What the-? Hey!! What kind of-?" but she ''is'' quick, even as he looks to be launching right after her. "Foolish girl!" he throws at her back, not chasing after her. He was going the opposite way, anyway. "Yeah, I'll find you, pretty lady," he adds on, though this one is likely not heard if she's busy retreating away. Some would even say that it was a half-hearted attempted at having the last word.

Dragon> To Ghislaith, Rojeth is still unsettled, the craggy swamp trees frosted and creaking, but what's done is done. << He can't get away. >> That 'he' being I'zech. << He'll meet you when he's done here. >>

"Good luck with that!" Sabella calls out after him. If he doesn't make a move to catch or stop her, she's going to be gone, gone, ''gone'' into the shadows of the farmhouse. And if she gets that far, Narigan might be disturbed to hear that distinct rustle of leather like wings beating hard into the night air.

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Logs:Hears All Drag- Bullshit.

2013-06-20T04:32:02Z

Zian:

{{ Log
| who = Sabella, Jo/ST{{!}}Jo as ST, Jo
| where = Outside Sattle Hold, High Reaches Area
| what = Sabella goes to make I'zech's drop. It doesn't go as planned.
| when = Day 9, month 1, turn 32
| gamedate = 2013.06.20
| quote = Would it be more believable if I told you there's a woman in Nerat with two pairs of tits instead of one?
| weather = Foggy
| categories =
| mentions = I'zech
| ooc =
| icons = sabella outside.jpg
| log =

Outside Sattle Hold, High Reaches Area

It's a night like most others in this area - quiet out by the Hold's pastures where runners and herdbeasts a like can be seen grazing and sleeping lazily. To the casual eye, nothing's amiss and no one's where they aren't suppose to be. To the eyes far sharper, however, one can spot the tall and lanky young man hanging out behind a tree with a worn yellow sack upon the ground beside him. One can tell the young man's either loitering or that he could be one of holder stableboys - outside, waiting for a liaison with some pretty holder girl. He has the look, at least, and that's not out of the ordinary in a place like this, right?

She's a quiet thing, that girl he's meeting tonight. Sabella approaches from behind, casually brushing her hands over his hips before slipping around in front of him. The greenrider's dragon isn't immediately visible and she doesn't necessarily ''look'' like a rider herself this evening. She's wearing a jacket that's warm enough to ward off the weather, but nothing like traditional riding leathers. "Have we met before?" She asks with a slow flash of a smile as she moves out of the reach of his hands and arms.

Narigan nearly jumps out of his skin by the sudden touch of hands, turning towards Sabella with a hand going immediately towards his hidden knife at the side. "Who the-?" he starts out, frowning heavily at her for a few moments before he pauses and then ''really'' takes her in. All of her, from head to toe. He's not hiding that fact, either, though now his free hand is patting towards his jacket pockets before darting a suspicious look her way. "You didn't take anything from me, didja?" he asks outright, looking her over as if anything from him will just appear on her person. He looks around her age, and every bit what I'zech had described of him. In fact, "No, I don't know you," he finally chooses to answer her, straightening up to slip away from the tree (and her). "And I don't think you're who I'm looking for, missy, so you best be on your way."

"If I took something from you don't you think you'd notice it was missing?" Sabella questions back, leveling him with a disarming smile as she puts one hand onto her hip. The other goes to the canvas bag slung around her neck, one that she reaches for the buckle on. He jumps and goes for his knife and she looks utterly unconcerned with that the action, seeing as how she's beyond that reach of him anyway. "Oh, I'm not? I thought you looked like someone I would know. Well, I'm supposed to be meet someone here. So if you're not ''not'' Narigan, than you best be on ''your'' way. Because I have business here."

"Should I frisk you and find out?" There's a toothy grin from Narigan, the young man looking like that's an option he would very much like to put into action. He even demonstrates by lifting up both hands with wiggling fingers. Enticing. Sabella's latter words have him waving one hand away as he states, "Hold up, hold up. I'm Narigan, but you ''can't'' be I'zech." It's noted with a deliberate look towards her chest. "I was imagining someone ''less'' hot and handsy. Not that I mind the change, but then, changes like this can make my boss and ones like me a bit suspicious. I mean," and he takes up leaning his lanky frame against the tree, "how do I know you're not just some girl that's ''heard'' of this meeting, coming by to rob me blind? Or to knife me for the information ''I've'' got?" He's smiling now, at least.

"Or you could check your ''own'' pockets and see if what's there before is ''not'' there now. But I can see where that might be too confusing for you." Sabella lifts her slim shoulders, that hand stilled over the buckle on the bag. "How observant. No, I'm not I'zech. But I do have what you're waiting around for. Of course..." And here she takes the opportunity to wave her hand around at the general area they're in. "If you'd like to wait around all night and see if he shows up, that's on you. I get paid either way." Now the greenrider presents him with another smile, seeming intent on ignoring the looks and comments for the time being. "Also, if I knifed you? I don't imagine you'd be doing much talking for very long. Dead people are often silent."

Dragon> Assuming that Rojeth was helpful enough to pass on some directions, now the chill mist sweeps in, prickly with ice crystals. << Has he come? >> (To Ghislaith from Rojeth)

Dragon> The wood groans with the weight of her observation. << He was here first. >> There's an image of the pair talking swept along to the bronze. << He does't believe that she comes in place of you. >> (To Rojeth from Ghislaith)

Dragon> To Ghislaith, Rojeth is hardly surprised, though the fog swirls around that image she's sent, hunting for details. << He wants to get paid, doesn't he. >> There's extra hiss in his rasp, impatient perhaps -- though with what is entirely unclear.

"I think I like my option better," Narigan's quick to counter on that score. "But thanks. Once I check my pockets and find things amiss, I'll just make it my mission to come find you. It's what I'm good at doing, anyway." Either way, he doesn't look all that concerned on whether Sabs stole from him or not. Moving on, "So what is it I'm waiting for, then?" he asks, watching her. "Cuz, what I've got's pretty important, too. I would think for something like this, he would've wanted to be here for it instead of sending someone in his stead. Show me," what he wants to see, presumably. That last gets an even wider smile from him, simply replying back, "Ahh, but there's many dead people that can tell tales, too, pretty lady. You can be surprised."

That garners a quick round of lighthearted laughter from her. "Oh, go right ahead and look for me." Sabella snaps open the buckle on the bag to pull forth a pouch of marks. She's cautious of their distance now, opening the bag to flash him the contents inside before quickly pulling it closed. "You're waiting to get ''paid'' aren't you?" There's a distinct sigh there, as if Narigan's beginning to bore her while they banter back and forth. "He had a scheduling conflict. Perhaps what he wants from you isn't as important as you think that it is? Meanwhile, we talk and the night drags on. So you either want to make the exchange or you don't." And it's not exactly that important to ''her'' or so she makes it seem. "Interesting. But hardly the point."

Dragon> She can sense the hunt in him. With an effort, the next image she sends to him is further detailed. More expressions, more emotion portrayed through it. The unsurprising level of distrust and general lack of good opinion from Sabella is distinct. The scene is still simple, the pair standing out of each others reach. Posturing for the upperhand in the exchange. << Perhaps not. He seems unhappy that yours isn't here. >> (To Rojeth from Ghislaith)

"You doubt my prowess," Narigan seems to chide with a tsk. "They always do." Hazel eyes drop towards that flash of marks, her choice of words drawing a wry, "Yeah. Get paid, and shit, don't matter to me if this don't get him hard. I've got plenty of others that will think otherwise. Either way, like you, I get paid." Flippant in the end, since business is what brings them together, "We'll make the exchange, pretty lady. Marks for information." Arms folding across his chest as he takes a breath, "Let's just say that someone I know has someone that ''everybody'' would want around." Leaning a bit forward, "I'm not talking some jumped-up renegade or anything, either," he clarifies. "I'm talking someone that would be pretty valuable to any lookin' to keep outta the way of pesky dragonriders," and there's a slight smirk to that. "You see..." and his voice drop, both brows lifting as he pins a pointed look onto Sabella, "...this someone hears all dragons. We know where they are."

Dragon> To Ghislaith, Rojeth is at least moderately satisfied by the improved details, clammy fingers having inspected all there is to inspect. << There's always someone who's unhappy. >> And there is a sense that Sabella isn't the only one dealing with a sourpuss. Rojeth might usually sound a bit more indifferent about it, but tonight there's that edge of irritation.

Dragon> The next image comes forward and then it stops, pulled back as if Ghislaith herself is examining it to determine its correctness. She reluctantly forwards it to Rojeth, complete with her own brand of skepticism stamped on it. << He says that he knows the location of one that hears all dragons. >> (To Rojeth from Ghislaith)

Dragon> To Ghislaith, Rojeth projects << Bullshit. >>

"I can't imagine ''why''." Sabs responds dryly, even as her eyes begin to trace over his form. When he begins to speak, she ''is'' listening. Right up until he makes the big reveal. And the greenrider has to stop herself from beginning to laugh, what comes out instead is something of a short bark. "Do I look like an idiot? I was sent here for information, but I suspect now that you're just fucking with me. I can't go back to I'zech with some crazy story about a person that can 'hear all dragons'. I mean ''honestly''." Her skepticism is clear, very clear.

Dragon> The image this time is just of Sabella's expression, more or less mirroring what Rojeth has just said. (To Rojeth from Ghislaith)

Dragon> A smug calm lets the mists go still and patient again. (To Ghislaith from Rojeth)

Hands lifting away from his body, "Would it be more believable if I told you there's a woman in Nerat with two pairs of tits instead of one?" Narigan tosses back at Sabella's skepticism, archly. Then more seriously, "That's the news. Take it or leave it. Just leave your marks on the ground on your way out." Arms come to fold now, watching the other with mild interest. "And besides, isn't for ''you'' to believe, is it? I'm sure he's not paying you for ''that''."

"Nope." Sabella glances at that point on the ground before she lifts her shoulders, almost apologetically. "Unfortunately I'm going to have to leave it. And unfortunately for you, I'zech didn't pay me to come here and just hand his marks over for some bullshit made up story." The greenrider unbuckles her bag and drops the marks back in before beginning to carefully step back. "Because if he was here, I doubt ''he'd'' pay you."

Dragon> The tension seeps into Ghislaith's next correspondence. Sabella backing away, clearly ''not'' giving the bucktoothed man the marks he was expecting for the bullshit story he was selling. (To Rojeth from Ghislaith)

Openly outraged, "It's ''not'' a made-up story!" Narigan shoots back hotly. "I've seen them myself! A seven from now? He can too!" Stepping off from the tree as he fishes into his jacket for a folded sheet of hide, "Have him go there a seven from now," he offers, still looking mulishly at her. "He's dragonrider, right? He'll get his proof. In the meantime, if you send me back from this with nothing but wasted time, what happens to ''me'' will hang over ''your'' head." He stares hard at Sabella now, waiting.

"But ''you're'' not a dragonrider. So how do you know they're hearing all dragons?" Sabella is rightly dubious and she hasn't unbuckled the bag to give him any of the marks. That paper is regarded suspiciously and the greenrider dances forward to snatch it out of his hand quickly. She'll glance the words over, "For that kind of claim you'd need to have more than just words on a paper. I'd practically need you to have them here in front of me. You want me to send I'zech on a wild chase across Pern? You want him to go to some bumblefuck hold outside of Ruatha?" That threat of bad things happening to Narigan doesn't seem to move her, she's steeled against it. "Please. Here. I'll give you a quarter of what he was going to pay you originally, since you gave me a ''quarter'' of worthwhile information."

Dragon> To Ghislaith, Rojeth hesitates, but only for a beat, distracted by whatever it is that I'zech himself had to handle tonight. << Threaten to leave. >> Though perhaps there's some sense that he half expects Sabella has done this already.

"I was there ''with'' a dragonrider," Narigan's scowling her way now for questioning his claims. He lets her snatch the paper away before adding, "What I'd gotta prove to ''you'' for?" he quips back. "You're just the messenger! I'm sure I'zech's a big boy and can handle himself, but you know what?" He brushes his thumb across his nose as he sniffs, taking a look about them. Then he collects up his sack from the ground. "Fine," he gives. "Go see for yourself. I'll give warning, though. You're not who they're expecting, and they don't like surprises." Looking her over regretfully, "They're not going to like being jipped, either," he adds stiffly on the marks. "But by all means, since I'm blowing smoke up your ass. Come." He throws that strap over his shoulder as if preparing to depart before he says, "Anyway, that's all I've got. I've done my job. The marks?" A hand goes out as he steps to her.

"Right, you were there ''with'' one. That's just like being one. As if a dragonrider from somewhere wouldn't snatch up a person that hears all dragons for their own weyr. For their own gain immedidately." Sabella takes a step back as she opens her bag, finds that pouch of marks. But she doesn't even hand him over a quarter of the marks. It's just one piece that she flips towards him. "For your trouble." And since she's a quick moving thing, she's backing away from Narigan (even as that paper she took from him disappears into her pockets somewhere) pretty rapidly. "He ''is'' a big boy. And he's ''not'' going to like hearing that you tried to blow smoke up my ass to get some quick marks out of him. So, I'll see you around. If you can find me, ever, ever again that is."

Dragon> Suspicions concerned. The moving image of Sabella flicking one mark through the air towards the greatly irritated Narigan. << We're leaving. >> (To Rojeth from Ghislaith)

Dragon> Antsy. Somewhere shrouded in the fog, things are moving. << Did he give her anything? >> Rojeth wonders. << If he's not pissed enough to talk now... >> Then he's not sure what would convince the man to hand over whatever it is he knows. (To Ghislaith from Rojeth)

Dragon> To Rojeth, Ghislaith projects an image with some words on it. But they're indistinct for her, it was too fast for her to get a clear picture. << He gave her a paper, she kept it. He says some people are going to be angry that she chipped them. >>

"Not from the folks I work for," Narigan says with a little smirk on his face on the first. "They're not exactly...easily accessible." But then he has current troubles to deal with more than trying to convince Sabella - one mark piece has him tossing out an angry, "What the-? Hey!! What kind of-?" but she ''is'' quick, even as he looks to be launching right after her. "Foolish girl!" he throws at her back, not chasing after her. He was going the opposite way, anyway. "Yeah, I'll find you, pretty lady," he adds on, though this one is likely not heard if she's busy retreating away. Some would even say that it was a half-hearted attempted at having the last word.

Dragon> To Ghislaith, Rojeth is still unsettled, the craggy swamp trees frosted and creaking, but what's done is done. << He can't get away. >> That 'he' being I'zech. << He'll meet you when he's done here. >>

"Good luck with that!" Sabella calls out after him. If he doesn't make a move to catch or stop her, she's going to be gone, gone, ''gone'' into the shadows of the farmhouse. And if she gets that far, Narigan might be disturbed to hear that distinct rustle of leather like wings beating hard into the night air.

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Logs:Hears All Drag- Bullshit.

2013-06-20T04:31:36Z

Zian: Created page with "{{ Log | who = Sabella, Jo/ST{{!}}Jo as ST | where = Outside Sattle Hold, High Reaches Area | what = Sabella goes to make I'zech's drop. It doesn't go as planned. | when = Da..."

{{ Log
| who = Sabella, Jo/ST{{!}}Jo as ST
| where = Outside Sattle Hold, High Reaches Area
| what = Sabella goes to make I'zech's drop. It doesn't go as planned.
| when = Day 9, month 1, turn 32
| gamedate = 2013.06.20
| quote = Would it be more believable if I told you there's a woman in Nerat with two pairs of tits instead of one?
| weather = Foggy
| categories =
| mentions = I'zech
| ooc =
| icons = sabella outside.jpg
| log =

Outside Sattle Hold, High Reaches Area

It's a night like most others in this area - quiet out by the Hold's pastures where runners and herdbeasts a like can be seen grazing and sleeping lazily. To the casual eye, nothing's amiss and no one's where they aren't suppose to be. To the eyes far sharper, however, one can spot the tall and lanky young man hanging out behind a tree with a worn yellow sack upon the ground beside him. One can tell the young man's either loitering or that he could be one of holder stableboys - outside, waiting for a liaison with some pretty holder girl. He has the look, at least, and that's not out of the ordinary in a place like this, right?

She's a quiet thing, that girl he's meeting tonight. Sabella approaches from behind, casually brushing her hands over his hips before slipping around in front of him. The greenrider's dragon isn't immediately visible and she doesn't necessarily ''look'' like a rider herself this evening. She's wearing a jacket that's warm enough to ward off the weather, but nothing like traditional riding leathers. "Have we met before?" She asks with a slow flash of a smile as she moves out of the reach of his hands and arms.

Narigan nearly jumps out of his skin by the sudden touch of hands, turning towards Sabella with a hand going immediately towards his hidden knife at the side. "Who the-?" he starts out, frowning heavily at her for a few moments before he pauses and then ''really'' takes her in. All of her, from head to toe. He's not hiding that fact, either, though now his free hand is patting towards his jacket pockets before darting a suspicious look her way. "You didn't take anything from me, didja?" he asks outright, looking her over as if anything from him will just appear on her person. He looks around her age, and every bit what I'zech had described of him. In fact, "No, I don't know you," he finally chooses to answer her, straightening up to slip away from the tree (and her). "And I don't think you're who I'm looking for, missy, so you best be on your way."

"If I took something from you don't you think you'd notice it was missing?" Sabella questions back, leveling him with a disarming smile as she puts one hand onto her hip. The other goes to the canvas bag slung around her neck, one that she reaches for the buckle on. He jumps and goes for his knife and she looks utterly unconcerned with that the action, seeing as how she's beyond that reach of him anyway. "Oh, I'm not? I thought you looked like someone I would know. Well, I'm supposed to be meet someone here. So if you're not ''not'' Narigan, than you best be on ''your'' way. Because I have business here."

"Should I frisk you and find out?" There's a toothy grin from Narigan, the young man looking like that's an option he would very much like to put into action. He even demonstrates by lifting up both hands with wiggling fingers. Enticing. Sabella's latter words have him waving one hand away as he states, "Hold up, hold up. I'm Narigan, but you ''can't'' be I'zech." It's noted with a deliberate look towards her chest. "I was imagining someone ''less'' hot and handsy. Not that I mind the change, but then, changes like this can make my boss and ones like me a bit suspicious. I mean," and he takes up leaning his lanky frame against the tree, "how do I know you're not just some girl that's ''heard'' of this meeting, coming by to rob me blind? Or to knife me for the information ''I've'' got?" He's smiling now, at least.

"Or you could check your ''own'' pockets and see if what's there before is ''not'' there now. But I can see where that might be too confusing for you." Sabella lifts her slim shoulders, that hand stilled over the buckle on the bag. "How observant. No, I'm not I'zech. But I do have what you're waiting around for. Of course..." And here she takes the opportunity to wave her hand around at the general area they're in. "If you'd like to wait around all night and see if he shows up, that's on you. I get paid either way." Now the greenrider presents him with another smile, seeming intent on ignoring the looks and comments for the time being. "Also, if I knifed you? I don't imagine you'd be doing much talking for very long. Dead people are often silent."

Dragon> Assuming that Rojeth was helpful enough to pass on some directions, now the chill mist sweeps in, prickly with ice crystals. << Has he come? >> (To Ghislaith from Rojeth)

Dragon> The wood groans with the weight of her observation. << He was here first. >> There's an image of the pair talking swept along to the bronze. << He does't believe that she comes in place of you. >> (To Rojeth from Ghislaith)

Dragon> To Ghislaith, Rojeth is hardly surprised, though the fog swirls around that image she's sent, hunting for details. << He wants to get paid, doesn't he. >> There's extra hiss in his rasp, impatient perhaps -- though with what is entirely unclear.

"I think I like my option better," Narigan's quick to counter on that score. "But thanks. Once I check my pockets and find things amiss, I'll just make it my mission to come find you. It's what I'm good at doing, anyway." Either way, he doesn't look all that concerned on whether Sabs stole from him or not. Moving on, "So what is it I'm waiting for, then?" he asks, watching her. "Cuz, what I've got's pretty important, too. I would think for something like this, he would've wanted to be here for it instead of sending someone in his stead. Show me," what he wants to see, presumably. That last gets an even wider smile from him, simply replying back, "Ahh, but there's many dead people that can tell tales, too, pretty lady. You can be surprised."

That garners a quick round of lighthearted laughter from her. "Oh, go right ahead and look for me." Sabella snaps open the buckle on the bag to pull forth a pouch of marks. She's cautious of their distance now, opening the bag to flash him the contents inside before quickly pulling it closed. "You're waiting to get ''paid'' aren't you?" There's a distinct sigh there, as if Narigan's beginning to bore her while they banter back and forth. "He had a scheduling conflict. Perhaps what he wants from you isn't as important as you think that it is? Meanwhile, we talk and the night drags on. So you either want to make the exchange or you don't." And it's not exactly that important to ''her'' or so she makes it seem. "Interesting. But hardly the point."

Dragon> She can sense the hunt in him. With an effort, the next image she sends to him is further detailed. More expressions, more emotion portrayed through it. The unsurprising level of distrust and general lack of good opinion from Sabella is distinct. The scene is still simple, the pair standing out of each others reach. Posturing for the upperhand in the exchange. << Perhaps not. He seems unhappy that yours isn't here. >> (To Rojeth from Ghislaith)

"You doubt my prowess," Narigan seems to chide with a tsk. "They always do." Hazel eyes drop towards that flash of marks, her choice of words drawing a wry, "Yeah. Get paid, and shit, don't matter to me if this don't get him hard. I've got plenty of others that will think otherwise. Either way, like you, I get paid." Flippant in the end, since business is what brings them together, "We'll make the exchange, pretty lady. Marks for information." Arms folding across his chest as he takes a breath, "Let's just say that someone I know has someone that ''everybody'' would want around." Leaning a bit forward, "I'm not talking some jumped-up renegade or anything, either," he clarifies. "I'm talking someone that would be pretty valuable to any lookin' to keep outta the way of pesky dragonriders," and there's a slight smirk to that. "You see..." and his voice drop, both brows lifting as he pins a pointed look onto Sabella, "...this someone hears all dragons. We know where they are."

Dragon> To Ghislaith, Rojeth is at least moderately satisfied by the improved details, clammy fingers having inspected all there is to inspect. << There's always someone who's unhappy. >> And there is a sense that Sabella isn't the only one dealing with a sourpuss. Rojeth might usually sound a bit more indifferent about it, but tonight there's that edge of irritation.

Dragon> The next image comes forward and then it stops, pulled back as if Ghislaith herself is examining it to determine its correctness. She reluctantly forwards it to Rojeth, complete with her own brand of skepticism stamped on it. << He says that he knows the location of one that hears all dragons. >> (To Rojeth from Ghislaith)

Dragon> To Ghislaith, Rojeth projects << Bullshit. >>

"I can't imagine ''why''." Sabs responds dryly, even as her eyes begin to trace over his form. When he begins to speak, she ''is'' listening. Right up until he makes the big reveal. And the greenrider has to stop herself from beginning to laugh, what comes out instead is something of a short bark. "Do I look like an idiot? I was sent here for information, but I suspect now that you're just fucking with me. I can't go back to I'zech with some crazy story about a person that can 'hear all dragons'. I mean ''honestly''." Her skepticism is clear, very clear.

Dragon> The image this time is just of Sabella's expression, more or less mirroring what Rojeth has just said. (To Rojeth from Ghislaith)

Dragon> A smug calm lets the mists go still and patient again. (To Ghislaith from Rojeth)

Hands lifting away from his body, "Would it be more believable if I told you there's a woman in Nerat with two pairs of tits instead of one?" Narigan tosses back at Sabella's skepticism, archly. Then more seriously, "That's the news. Take it or leave it. Just leave your marks on the ground on your way out." Arms come to fold now, watching the other with mild interest. "And besides, isn't for ''you'' to believe, is it? I'm sure he's not paying you for ''that''."

"Nope." Sabella glances at that point on the ground before she lifts her shoulders, almost apologetically. "Unfortunately I'm going to have to leave it. And unfortunately for you, I'zech didn't pay me to come here and just hand his marks over for some bullshit made up story." The greenrider unbuckles her bag and drops the marks back in before beginning to carefully step back. "Because if he was here, I doubt ''he'd'' pay you."

Dragon> The tension seeps into Ghislaith's next correspondence. Sabella backing away, clearly ''not'' giving the bucktoothed man the marks he was expecting for the bullshit story he was selling. (To Rojeth from Ghislaith)

Openly outraged, "It's ''not'' a made-up story!" Narigan shoots back hotly. "I've seen them myself! A seven from now? He can too!" Stepping off from the tree as he fishes into his jacket for a folded sheet of hide, "Have him go there a seven from now," he offers, still looking mulishly at her. "He's dragonrider, right? He'll get his proof. In the meantime, if you send me back from this with nothing but wasted time, what happens to ''me'' will hang over ''your'' head." He stares hard at Sabella now, waiting.

"But ''you're'' not a dragonrider. So how do you know they're hearing all dragons?" Sabella is rightly dubious and she hasn't unbuckled the bag to give him any of the marks. That paper is regarded suspiciously and the greenrider dances forward to snatch it out of his hand quickly. She'll glance the words over, "For that kind of claim you'd need to have more than just words on a paper. I'd practically need you to have them here in front of me. You want me to send I'zech on a wild chase across Pern? You want him to go to some bumblefuck hold outside of Ruatha?" That threat of bad things happening to Narigan doesn't seem to move her, she's steeled against it. "Please. Here. I'll give you a quarter of what he was going to pay you originally, since you gave me a ''quarter'' of worthwhile information."

Dragon> To Ghislaith, Rojeth hesitates, but only for a beat, distracted by whatever it is that I'zech himself had to handle tonight. << Threaten to leave. >> Though perhaps there's some sense that he half expects Sabella has done this already.

"I was there ''with'' a dragonrider," Narigan's scowling her way now for questioning his claims. He lets her snatch the paper away before adding, "What I'd gotta prove to ''you'' for?" he quips back. "You're just the messenger! I'm sure I'zech's a big boy and can handle himself, but you know what?" He brushes his thumb across his nose as he sniffs, taking a look about them. Then he collects up his sack from the ground. "Fine," he gives. "Go see for yourself. I'll give warning, though. You're not who they're expecting, and they don't like surprises." Looking her over regretfully, "They're not going to like being jipped, either," he adds stiffly on the marks. "But by all means, since I'm blowing smoke up your ass. Come." He throws that strap over his shoulder as if preparing to depart before he says, "Anyway, that's all I've got. I've done my job. The marks?" A hand goes out as he steps to her.

"Right, you were there ''with'' one. That's just like being one. As if a dragonrider from somewhere wouldn't snatch up a person that hears all dragons for their own weyr. For their own gain immedidately." Sabella takes a step back as she opens her bag, finds that pouch of marks. But she doesn't even hand him over a quarter of the marks. It's just one piece that she flips towards him. "For your trouble." And since she's a quick moving thing, she's backing away from Narigan (even as that paper she took from him disappears into her pockets somewhere) pretty rapidly. "He ''is'' a big boy. And he's ''not'' going to like hearing that you tried to blow smoke up my ass to get some quick marks out of him. So, I'll see you around. If you can find me, ever, ever again that is."

Dragon> Suspicions concerned. The moving image of Sabella flicking one mark through the air towards the greatly irritated Narigan. << We're leaving. >> (To Rojeth from Ghislaith)

Dragon> Antsy. Somewhere shrouded in the fog, things are moving. << Did he give her anything? >> Rojeth wonders. << If he's not pissed enough to talk now... >> Then he's not sure what would convince the man to hand over whatever it is he knows. (To Ghislaith from Rojeth)

Dragon> To Rojeth, Ghislaith projects an image with some words on it. But they're indistinct for her, it was too fast for her to get a clear picture. << He gave her a paper, she kept it. He says some people are going to be angry that she chipped them. >>

"Not from the folks I work for," Narigan says with a little smirk on his face on the first. "They're not exactly...easily accessible." But then he has current troubles to deal with more than trying to convince Sabella - one mark piece has him tossing out an angry, "What the-? Hey!! What kind of-?" but she ''is'' quick, even as he looks to be launching right after her. "Foolish girl!" he throws at her back, not chasing after her. He was going the opposite way, anyway. "Yeah, I'll find you, pretty lady," he adds on, though this one is likely not heard if she's busy retreating away. Some would even say that it was a half-hearted attempted at having the last word.

Dragon> To Ghislaith, Rojeth is still unsettled, the craggy swamp trees frosted and creaking, but what's done is done. << He can't get away. >> That 'he' being I'zech. << He'll meet you when he's done here. >>

"Good luck with that!" Sabella calls out after him. If he doesn't make a move to catch or stop her, she's going to be gone, gone, ''gone'' into the shadows of the farmhouse. And if she gets that far, Narigan might be disturbed to hear that distinct rustle of leather like wings beating hard into the night air.

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

}}

<comments />

Logs talk:To Slake Ardent Thirst

2013-06-20T02:01:29Z

Zian: Comment provided by Zian - via ArticleComments extension

<noinclude>Comments on "[[Logs:To Slake Ardent Thirst]]"
----- __NOEDITSECTION__</noinclude>

[[Zian/Comments|Zian]] ([[User:Zian|Zian]] ([[User talk:Zian|talk]])) left a comment on Thu, 20 Jun 2013 02:01:29 GMT.

<comment date="2013-06-20T02:01:29Z" name="Zian" signature="[[User:Zian|Zian]] ([[User talk:Zian|talk]])">
I'm dying. I can't even process how awesome this is. XD
</comment>

Sabella

2013-06-19T21:25:56Z

Zian: /* Relationships */

{{HrwProfile
|picture=Sabs46.jpg
|position=Weyrling
|craft=
|birthplace=Crom Hold
|mother= Islana
|father= Who?
|siblings= Too many.
|friends=
|children= None.
|playedby= Shailene Woodley
|livejournal=
}}

== Description ==

Sabella isn’t what a person would call typically beautiful, but she has a certain quirky appeal that’s certainly attractive. She’s of average height with a slender build and the appropriate curves, but by no means actually curvy. Her hair is a long, sweeping voluminous affair that goes past her shoulders, a bright, shiny chestnut in color. With a delicate, heart shaped face her mouth is soft with a full lips and her nose is a touch too long and straight. Straight eyebrows are drawn across wide green eyes, almond shaped and pulling up just slightly at the corners.

She’s a well dressed girl, not because her clothes are expensive but because she has style. On any given day, she’s rocking a certain bohemian fashion. Her skirts are long and flowing (or short with leggings) and her shirts are billowy and worn with plain jackets, just thick enough to keep out the chill but not to be bulky. The boots she loves to wear are heeled, dark black leather with laces that run up to her knees.

== WYSK ==

Originally from the general area of Crom Hold.

Was a hairdresser to the Lady of Greenfield Hold.

Now a weyrling at High Reaches Weyr.

== History ==

Sabella is from the Crom region, hailing from a dubious background. If questioned hard about her upbringing she'd likely say she was from some small holding in the area, raised by her parents of moderate means. In truth, she's just another youth from a crappy family that didn't have much of anything and didn’t do much of anything for her either. She learned to pick pockets and steal in order to survive her hand to mouth existence. It helped that she had a sweet, innocent face and a penchant for telling a good lie well. And if she’s had to resort to any other means, she’s not going to willfully volunteer that kind of information. If she volunteers any of the above at all.

Around the time she was fifteen, she was initiated into a rougher gang of nefarious criminals. While running with them she was able to polish her skills and raise her standard of living somewhat. Nearing age nineteen, her group was able to find job placement for her at Greenfields Hold, attending to the Lady's hair issues. Her job was simple, work her confidence and feed any valuable intel she might hear back to the group.

With the double-clutch at High Reaches she found herself being swept away by a rider from there and set down as a candidate. Whether she was searched “on purpose” or as a natural turn of events, she’s not likely to say. However one thing is sure, in Turn 31, Sabella impressed green Ghislaith.

When asked about her life before coming to the Weyr, Sabs is proficient at eluding the difficult questions and giving responses that don't answer much of anything or ultimately reveal nothing that's particularly exciting.

== Relationships ==

*[[E'sren]]: He cares about the person he thinks I am, would he still want the person I really am?
*[[I'zech]]: He knows what it's like to want to be something, but know you're practically destined to be nothing.
*[[Jo]]: She's exciting and dangerous, fearless.
*[[Telavi]]: She would understand, I think. If I let her.

== Supposedly Humorous Ghislaith Observations ==

Just some of my own "funny" observations of other dragon's from Ghislaith's perspective. Doesn't matter if she's "met" them on-camera or not. Not everyone is represented either. Not to be taken seriously. ;)

'''Ahruth:''' I knew that I should have built a garage.

'''Rasavyth:''' Spiders. Now I need to hire an exterminator.

'''Tacuseth:''' Great, there’s a bunch of people outside.

'''Rojeth:''' Why is the weather here so shitty?

'''Hraedhyth:''' I’m glad I got fire coverage on my homeowners.

'''Iesaryth:''' Does that cover floods too? Better check.

'''Solith:''' It’s drafty in here, I should close the windows.

'''Cadejoth''': If that dog walks mud into this house one more time…

'''Oswinth:''' Ugh, can’t the Universe just stop expanding already?

== Soundtrack ==

[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ghb6eDopW8I Little Talks - Of Monsters and Men]

''Hey! Hey! Hey! <br> I don't like walking around this old and empty house <br> So hold my hand, I'll walk with you, my dear <br> The stairs creak as you sleep, it's keeping me awake <br> It's the house telling you to close your eyes.''

(Okay, really the whole song)

[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xHOBeq6fFNI Can't Go Wrong - Philip Philips]

''I can't go wrong, as long as I remember where I'm from, <br>Hold my head up just to keep it clear, <br> I want a chance just to face my fear, face my fear, <br> Nevermind all the times I just couldn't wait, <br> I cant remember when it all began to change, <br> Watching the grass grow and die from summer to fall, <br> It's funny how the year passes by and you don't notice at all, <br> I know, I know.''

[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=By7ctqcWxyM Pieces - Sum 41]

''This place is so empty, <br> My thoughts are so tempting, <br> I don’t know how it got so bad, <br> Sometimes it’s so crazy, <br> That nothing can save me,<br>But it’s the only thing that I have.''

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zx5tSmOY_iM The Limousines - Internet Killed The Video Star]

''Well I'm a horrible dancer I ain't gonna lie, <br> But I'll be damned if that means that I ain't gonna try, <br> Yeah I'm a shitty romancer baby I ain't gonna lie, <br> But I'll be damned if that means that I ain't gonna try''

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hT_nvWreIhg Counting Stars - One Republic]

''I feel something so right <br> Doing the wrong thing <br> I feel something so wrong <br> Doing the right thing <br>I could lie, coudn't I, could lie <br> Everything that kills me makes me feel alive''

== RP Logs ==

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

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

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

{{Icons}}

{{HRW}}

[[category:Characters]]
[[category:High Reaches Weyr]]
[[category:High Reaches Area]]
[[category:Greater Pern]]

Sabella

2013-06-19T21:19:03Z

Zian: /* Soundtrack */

{{HrwProfile
|picture=Sabs46.jpg
|position=Weyrling
|craft=
|birthplace=Crom Hold
|mother= Islana
|father= Who?
|siblings= Too many.
|friends=
|children= None.
|playedby= Shailene Woodley
|livejournal=
}}

== Description ==

Sabella isn’t what a person would call typically beautiful, but she has a certain quirky appeal that’s certainly attractive. She’s of average height with a slender build and the appropriate curves, but by no means actually curvy. Her hair is a long, sweeping voluminous affair that goes past her shoulders, a bright, shiny chestnut in color. With a delicate, heart shaped face her mouth is soft with a full lips and her nose is a touch too long and straight. Straight eyebrows are drawn across wide green eyes, almond shaped and pulling up just slightly at the corners.

She’s a well dressed girl, not because her clothes are expensive but because she has style. On any given day, she’s rocking a certain bohemian fashion. Her skirts are long and flowing (or short with leggings) and her shirts are billowy and worn with plain jackets, just thick enough to keep out the chill but not to be bulky. The boots she loves to wear are heeled, dark black leather with laces that run up to her knees.

== WYSK ==

Originally from the general area of Crom Hold.

Was a hairdresser to the Lady of Greenfield Hold.

Now a weyrling at High Reaches Weyr.

== History ==

Sabella is from the Crom region, hailing from a dubious background. If questioned hard about her upbringing she'd likely say she was from some small holding in the area, raised by her parents of moderate means. In truth, she's just another youth from a crappy family that didn't have much of anything and didn’t do much of anything for her either. She learned to pick pockets and steal in order to survive her hand to mouth existence. It helped that she had a sweet, innocent face and a penchant for telling a good lie well. And if she’s had to resort to any other means, she’s not going to willfully volunteer that kind of information. If she volunteers any of the above at all.

Around the time she was fifteen, she was initiated into a rougher gang of nefarious criminals. While running with them she was able to polish her skills and raise her standard of living somewhat. Nearing age nineteen, her group was able to find job placement for her at Greenfields Hold, attending to the Lady's hair issues. Her job was simple, work her confidence and feed any valuable intel she might hear back to the group.

With the double-clutch at High Reaches she found herself being swept away by a rider from there and set down as a candidate. Whether she was searched “on purpose” or as a natural turn of events, she’s not likely to say. However one thing is sure, in Turn 31, Sabella impressed green Ghislaith.

When asked about her life before coming to the Weyr, Sabs is proficient at eluding the difficult questions and giving responses that don't answer much of anything or ultimately reveal nothing that's particularly exciting.

== Relationships ==

*[[Alida]]: Hostile. Overly self-confident. Possibly crazy.
*[[E'sren]]: There's no way that this is going to end up anywhere other than bad-awesome. We're going to spend the night locked up in a cell together. It'll be great.
*[[Jo]]: Badass. Totally my unofficial mentor and way cooler than the actual one I got assigned with. A fifty-something brownrder? Ugh.
*[[K'zin]] Much more doggedly determined in some things than I thought. Also a lot harder to avoid than anticipated.
*[[N'ky]]: Sweet. He's really a good friend to K'zin, I can respect that about him.
*[[N'hax]]: Talented. What is he doing here with the rest of us?

== Supposedly Humorous Ghislaith Observations ==

Just some of my own "funny" observations of other dragon's from Ghislaith's perspective. Doesn't matter if she's "met" them on-camera or not. Not everyone is represented either. Not to be taken seriously. ;)

'''Ahruth:''' I knew that I should have built a garage.

'''Rasavyth:''' Spiders. Now I need to hire an exterminator.

'''Tacuseth:''' Great, there’s a bunch of people outside.

'''Rojeth:''' Why is the weather here so shitty?

'''Hraedhyth:''' I’m glad I got fire coverage on my homeowners.

'''Iesaryth:''' Does that cover floods too? Better check.

'''Solith:''' It’s drafty in here, I should close the windows.

'''Cadejoth''': If that dog walks mud into this house one more time…

'''Oswinth:''' Ugh, can’t the Universe just stop expanding already?

== Soundtrack ==

[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ghb6eDopW8I Little Talks - Of Monsters and Men]

''Hey! Hey! Hey! <br> I don't like walking around this old and empty house <br> So hold my hand, I'll walk with you, my dear <br> The stairs creak as you sleep, it's keeping me awake <br> It's the house telling you to close your eyes.''

(Okay, really the whole song)

[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xHOBeq6fFNI Can't Go Wrong - Philip Philips]

''I can't go wrong, as long as I remember where I'm from, <br>Hold my head up just to keep it clear, <br> I want a chance just to face my fear, face my fear, <br> Nevermind all the times I just couldn't wait, <br> I cant remember when it all began to change, <br> Watching the grass grow and die from summer to fall, <br> It's funny how the year passes by and you don't notice at all, <br> I know, I know.''

[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=By7ctqcWxyM Pieces - Sum 41]

''This place is so empty, <br> My thoughts are so tempting, <br> I don’t know how it got so bad, <br> Sometimes it’s so crazy, <br> That nothing can save me,<br>But it’s the only thing that I have.''

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zx5tSmOY_iM The Limousines - Internet Killed The Video Star]

''Well I'm a horrible dancer I ain't gonna lie, <br> But I'll be damned if that means that I ain't gonna try, <br> Yeah I'm a shitty romancer baby I ain't gonna lie, <br> But I'll be damned if that means that I ain't gonna try''

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hT_nvWreIhg Counting Stars - One Republic]

''I feel something so right <br> Doing the wrong thing <br> I feel something so wrong <br> Doing the right thing <br>I could lie, coudn't I, could lie <br> Everything that kills me makes me feel alive''

== RP Logs ==

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

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

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

{{Icons}}

{{HRW}}

[[category:Characters]]
[[category:High Reaches Weyr]]
[[category:High Reaches Area]]
[[category:Greater Pern]]

Logs:Covering Bases

2013-06-18T05:29:08Z

Zian: Created page with "{{ Log | who = C'wlin, Sabella | where = Weyrling Training Cavern, High Reaches Weyr | what = Sabs comes to visit C'wlin and N'hax, just gets C'wlin. | when = Day 3, month 1..."

{{ Log
| who = C'wlin, Sabella
| where = Weyrling Training Cavern, High Reaches Weyr
| what = Sabs comes to visit C'wlin and N'hax, just gets C'wlin.
| when = Day 3, month 1, turn 32
| gamedate = 2013.06.18
| quote = Please, stay. I can offer you nothing in terms of food or drink, but surely, the excitement of the barracks will hold your attention.
| weather = Snowy
| categories =
| mentions = N'hax, Devaki
| ooc =
| icons = c'wlin.jpg, sabella grass.png
| log =

Weyrling Training Cavern, High Reaches Weyr(#392RJLs)

All the furniture here has been pushed to one side of the room to allow a large pathway opposite: room enough to let weyrling dragons pass from the bowl's archway to the cavernous barracks at the back. None of the furniture matches, either: it varies from big cushioned, claw-footed chairs to those of plain wood, while the most seating is at the two stone tables ringed by low and equally hard stone benches. Without the tapestries that decorate many of the Weyr's other interior spaces, the room always echoes with noise, no matter how few are there.

What it does have, however, are several colorful murals: on one wall, a detailed diagram of a dragon's anatomy; opposite, next to a creaky wooden door, a number of painted and labeled wing formations. Near the entrance is a large-scale version of the Weyr's badge, while the back wall, by the barracks, features a detailed map of the continent. The latter area's also home to one big, beat-up couch, black or maybe blue -- the thing's so old and filthy it's hard to tell, though it's certainly comfortable.

----

Cold. Cold. Even colder. Cold enough for snow, even if it is lightly done. Athimeroth, for once, has grounded himself to allow C'wlin to attend to his wings, his face and underbelly. Oiling, yes, in the brisk chill of winter with breath coming in steamy puffs and dressed to the nines in dark, midnight blue winter wear, complete with fuzzy hat. "Be still," the bronzerider comments, almost languidly, as he continues his work. The evening is calm for the pair, for even Athimeroth does not shift and move as he'd normally do.

Sabella took up the wingleader knot for their weyrling wing some time ago, but it's been a stretch since she was last down to the barracks to visit on the two bronzeriders. When she came then it was during the day and with others around, but now at night it seems more casual. She slips in through the large, arching entranceway. Her gaze flickers around the room, taking in the absence of weyrlingmasters on babysitting duty. A smile tugs on the corners of her mouth as she hears that comment from C'wlin to his bronze and she makes her way to the pair, footsteps echoing across the cavern. She tugs on the sleeves of her sweater, pulling it close around herself. "Hey."

It's hard to ignore the echo of footsteps, though C'wlin doesn't respond immediately. Mostly because life has slowed down a lot since their ill-fated trip to the Hold. Oh they've had duties, but nothing to charge the ''mind'', so to speak. When the last layer of oil is applied to a dragon that's no longer weyrling sized, he turns to fully give Sabella his attention. Wiping the excess oil from the paddle into the bucket, he answers, "Hey." Though here a single brow quirks, perhaps prompting for more.

She doesn't seem to take offense to any lack of response on his part, "Are you having fun yet?" Sabs asks with a dry twist of humor, waving with one hand to indicate the barracks at large before pulling a nearby stool towards him. She hops onto it and gives her nails the barest bit of inspection while he finishes. His single brow quirks and both of hers do in response, before she flashes him a smile that seems innocent ''enough''. "I thought I'd come down and keep you both company. N'hax quit for the night?" She glances past C'wlin to the barracks of cots beyond them.

"Oh, loads." C'wlin's return is equally dry, though without the humor and dripping with sarcasm. "I can hardly contain myself." Wiping his hands of the oil with the rag that's near the oil pot, the former-harper glances towards the inner barracks and shrugs. "Something like that." Maybe N'hax needed some alone time in there. "Keep me company, huh?" Hefting up the pot, he moves to put it away, glancing at fellow weyrling over his shoulder. "Please, stay. I can offer you nothing in terms of food or drink, but surely, the excitement of the barracks will hold your attention." This time humor ''is'' found in deadpan delivery.

"I can feel the joy radiating off of you." Sabella responds, fanning herself with one hand as if she's hot from all the excitement that's coming off of him in waves. But really now. "Yeah, you know. Part of my duties or something like that." She leans forward on the stool, pressing her elbows onto the tops of her knees. The greenrider falls silent as she watches him move around, cleaning. Cutting to the heart of why she's here maybe, she asks, "What went wrong?"

"Mmmmhmmmm." C'wlin shoots her a look with that fanning, but continues to move about. This and that gets his attention; one might think the boy's stir-crazy. "What went wrong?" Brows quirk. "Everything went wrong. They knew we were coming, they made us before we'd even gotten through the door somehow. ''Everything'' was wrong. We aren't master stealths, but we didn't go about this foolishly," that he thinks, anyway, "So..." He shrugs, bites his lip. At least the conversation has stilled the nervous energy, forcing him to keep attention on Sabella. "We screwed up." Is it rote words? Or truth? From C'wlin's mouth it's hard to tell.

Sabella listens, looking almost distracted as she cants her head and glances away from him. "They knew that you were coming?" That's repeated, even if it doesn't sound like the question is for C'wlin exactly. Eventually she looks back to him, beginning to chew carefully on her lower lip. "No, I didn't think that you had. The two of you aren't stupid or even careless." Nearly a turn together has taught her at least that much about them. Finally, "It happens. You may have taken on more than you could chew for your first job." Her slim shoulders lift in a shrug, "Did you at least find out anything interesting?"

"Possibly," C'wlin allows, frowning. "We figured we'd covered the bases. Our dragons were no where in sight, we had largely legit papers, and we were... not terrible actors." Of course, no one is perfect but the surprise for how swiftly things went down shows in the boy's face before it closes off to regard Sabella. "First job." As if he mulls over the concept briefly. "There was a boy that indicated something special was on that ship and the pirates were there to specifically get it." The something special. "The kid himself was different from the others. Scared, but willing to talk. Or he was feeding us misinformation. I don't even know anymore." It's not maudlinly stated; rather it's a serious comment of how tangled the situation's become.

"But maybe not the best." Sabella suggests, not unkindly as she knuckles her hands up under her chin thoughtfully. "The next time you need papers-" She flicks her fingers out as if to indicate something quietly, without having to say it outright. Maybe she's just figuring C'wlin is with it enough to pick up on the hint. "He could have been. But that seems complicated." She mulls the concept over, her gaze drifting over to regard his quietly resting dragon. "When you were there, in that moment, how did he make you feel? In your gut?" She wonders before letting the conversation take a detour, "On the boat that's sunk. I wonder if High Reaches has had to time to go out there and poke around on it?"

"Lord Devaki is a good swimmer, I hear, I bet he's already gotten whatever was of importance off that boat." C'wlin isn't dour, merely citing what's already been said to him at one point or another. "Certainly, it wasn't our ''best'' plan, but." He shrugs as it's all water under the bridge. At the mention of papers, he glances at the girl from beneath pale lashes, commenting innocuously, "I know where to go." The bronzerider's smart enough to read between the lines and savvy enough not to spell it out. "In my gut? I felt sorry for him. I'm sure he's dead now. It's just too," pause, "convenient."

"Winter comes early to the 'Reaches. That water might have already been too cold for a ''person'' to go swim down there, unless they were ''quite'' talented." And even though Devaki is some sort of fish person from some island somewhere, she doesn't look entirely convinced that someone has been out there yet. The wheels of her mind are clearly turning over their little gears. "It could have gone worse." She eventually concludes. At least for C'wlin and N'hax. "That's why we don't enlist with pirates. They have a particularly short life expectancy."

"I suppose." C'wlin's thoughts mirror hers regarding Fish-Person Devaki. But he shrugs, "It could have, I suppose. Though, seating thinly, revoked from my craft, stuck in the barracks... it's hard to see past that to what ''could'' be worse." Despite the ''words'' there is definitive dry humor that comes through in both expression and the sparkle to icy blue eyes. "Men accused of piracy are known for selling out when the going gets rough." Apparently, HE does not have a good opinion of them either!

"You could be in jail. Sent off to the mines- or worse." Sabella glances around the barracks and nods once, as if in confirmation of that. "Worse can be done to you than just losing your craft. There's a lot of turns ahead, things change. Come back around again." Her tone acknowledges that the current circumstances do blow. But she seems to pick up on that inkling of humor, her smile returning with a deepening of her dimples. "And so what do you do when you get out of here?"

"''When''," not if, "I get out of here, I'm going to see the world from the sky." The one slip up that hints at C'wlin being just a tad jealous of the current group's freedoms. "Yeah, it could be worse. At least we get to ''learn'' between," even if they can't go. "I'm hopeful that a turn of good behavior will net me my freedom, but until then there's naught I can do but... bide my time." Underlying that is implied: and plan. Though plan ''what''? Probably nothing because by his expression, the bronzerider might be foolhardy but he's not stupid enough to try ''again''.

Her smiles turn crooked now and she tilts her head to regard him, the slip up and all. "I don't think they'll keep you in here that much longer. I'd think they would want you both gone after weyrlinghood is over-over. You're cramping their style." Sabs yawns and sits up, stretching her arms over her head. "When you 'net' your freedom, do drop by before you go out on any excursions again. You know how to find me." One of the perks of being a dragon rider, all that instant-contact. Unfolding her legs she slips off of the stool.

"Y'think?" C'wlin slants the greenrider a curious look, though not seeming to see ''her'' so much as the idea she's presenting. "Yeah, we're constant reminders of what's happened, I suppose." Still dry humor is like the crinkle of old papers, underscoring every word stated. "I'll do just that, Sabella." Now that she's moving, so is he. There's ''things'' to do still, yet, the night isn't getting any younger and there's a lot of it to fill with inane tasks.

"Sometimes." Occasionally. When she's not busy not thinking. Sabella gives the other weyrling a quick wiggle of her fingers, flashing him an easy smile as she crosses that empty space to the entrance. There's a brisk cold wind that follows after her exit, but she's quick to pull that big door closed on C'wlin and all his little inane tasks.

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Logs:Short-Term Returns

2013-06-17T07:15:09Z

Zian: Created page with "{{ Log | who = I'zech, Sabella | where = Bitra Hold | what = It's time for a night out and other slightly nefarious stuff. | when = Day 3, month 1, turn 32 | gamedate = 2013...."

{{ Log
| who = I'zech, Sabella
| where = Bitra Hold
| what = It's time for a night out and other slightly nefarious stuff.
| when = Day 3, month 1, turn 32
| gamedate = 2013.06.17
| quote = Exchange. I don't know if he's delivering a letter or a packet or just... has something to say. But I've got something for him, he's got something for me. And I can't reschedule it.
| weather = Snowy
| categories =
| mentions = Jo
| ooc =
| icons = i'zech ohlook.png, sabella sweater.png
| log =

It's Bitra, it's snowy. There are nice parts of the Hold, surely, and then there are less nice parts. This part is a semi-respectable bar, with the obligatory gambling in full swing. The lights are dim, card and dice tables are busy, and the floor is slick with the wet footprints of patrons. Some time ago, I'zech came on a Sabella who was itching to get out of the Weyr for something other than drills or wing shadowing, and so with a diffident shrug from the bronzerider, they ended up here. And now, with their plates mostly empty and a drink or two put away, I'zech leans back in the booth, a sullen eye cast across the room. "So, your deal with Jo. Is that... exclusive?"

I'zech may look sullen eyed around the crowd, but Sabella's a bit more bright about it. Even if there's something contained about her attitude, she gingerly sips at her drink as she redirects her attention onto him again. His question has her inching forward on her side, elbows leaning onto the table. "No." That answer is given firmly, a certainty to it. Her smile is quick to come however, quietly sly. "No one ever told ''me'' it was."

It's the forward wiggling of weight, her inching lean, that brings I'zech's gaze back to the girl across from him, brief and without change in his expression other than a pinching around the eyes. "So if I needed a body on something..." He doesn't finish the thought, just lets his gaze settle on a woman pouring drinks some tables down.

He looks bored, almost. While she appears like a girl that's more into the guy than the guy is into the girl. At least for the purposes and perspective of an outsider looking on them from across the bar. She tempers a smile with another delicate sip of her beer, plate of greasy food pushed off to the side. "Sure. Upfront, I don't do the rough stuff." She glances in the direction of his gaze before cutting back to him. "But you're probably aware of that."

The rough stuff. Despite all his dull glances across the bar, now I'zech cracks a smirk. "Really." Big surprise there, but he snorts out a laugh. "I had you pegged for the rough and tumble kind. One of those that coils around like a tunnelsnake and lands twenty blows while your opponent is still trying to figure out where you are." It's all droll, but then more seriously. "Nothing rough. Just a drop. I have a little... scheduling conflict."

"Really." Sabs answers before hiding her smile behind the glass again. "More like a spider. Startling for a second but gone so fast you hardly remember I was even there." She wiggles the fingers on her hand like so many little bug legs. "Unless you're afraid of them. In which case, I'm still damn hard to find." All joking aside, she is listening to the important parts giving a simple nod of acknowledgement for them. "Where and when?"

"Mm, I know someone who can be like that," I'zech admits, brows high and gaze low as he watches her dancing spider-fingers. "Not afraid." He reaches for his beer again to tip back a long, unhurried drink. In the midst of it, he seems to really, more closely, register the excitement that Sabella has been wearing, that more-into-the-guy appearance. He quirks a brow like he doesn't quite believe any of that. "Tomorrow night. Near Sattle. Rojeth can show you." Well, Ghislaith, clearly. "I've got some information coming."

She drinks again, this time putting an index finger to her lips for his look of skepticism. It's more interesting if everyone else thinks they're something other than what they seem or, "Practice." This is accompanied by an easy roll of her slim shoulders as she traces the rim of the glass and flases him a smile. Calculatingly suggestive and genuine enough in appearance, if he were someone else she might get it past him. "I'm free. So I'm picking up? Do you want it at your weyr or your place?" And then, because a touch of curiosity gets to her: "Anything exciting?"

A chuckle rumbles in his chest when her finger makes a secret of their little ploy for onlookers. I'zech shakes his head -- maybe to claim it's unnecessary, or maybe because it's not all that much better for him to go on a date with a weyrling -- but he's still got that smirk in place either way. Maybe, to people glancing their way, it looks like she's just made some kind of inroad. "Exchange. I don't know if he's delivering a letter or a packet or just... has something to say. But I've got something for him, he's got something for me. And I can't reschedule it." So a brow cocks in question: is she still up for it. As for whether or not it's exciting, the grin deepens to something sly. "I guess we'll find out."

When he shakes his head, her smile only deepens and creates dimples. It may very well look like inroads. And even though it's not, she's at the least vastly entertained with it and how he maintains the smirk. "I guess we will." It would appear that she's still up for it, having not given him any negative. Sabs plays with condensation on the side of the glass. "Do you know what he's like?" She asks, seeming to be serious in this at least.

I'zech takes a drink. "Bit of a skinny fucker. Buck teeth. Maybe forty -- hard to say." Is that the kind of information she's looking for? His tongue slides over his teeth, thinking. "I don't know much about him. Narigan. I'm sure he's a great guy, loves flower and puppies and his mother." The brow cocks again, because obviously guys who meet in shady locations about mysterious things, they're usually really good guys.

"Aw, puppies." Sabella tips her glass back and enjoys a longer draw from her beer. "I don't know if that's going to get me past the buck teeth and lack of physique." The flash of teeth he's met with should be enough to make it clear that's about all she ''really'' wanted to know. The rundown of his sister's brothers' kid's nephews plans for the future won't be necessary this time around. "I'll be there tomorrow to meet Narry, no problem."

All the flippancy has I'zech narrowing his gaze again, though some hint of amusement still lingers in one tightened corner of his mouth. "Lucky Narry." But then he splits a broad, sharp smile and shifts to lean forward, elbows on the table like hers. The sudden appearance of interest doubtlessly looks like a guy who finally decided to buy in to the flirtations for short-term returns. "Wanna get out of here?"

"Indeed." Sabs smiles cheekily at him before finishing off the mug of beer she's been nursing. The play-along of his elbows onto the table prompts a short round of delighted laughter. It's of course not for the reason the man sitting behind I'zech likely thinks it's for, but that doesn't matter. Sliding her glass across so that it clinks against his she begins to slip out of the booth, "Why not? I'm sure we can find better things to get into, right?"

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Logs talk:Rotten Strawberries

2013-06-11T05:15:39Z

Zian: Comment provided by Zian - via ArticleComments extension

<noinclude>Comments on "[[Logs:Rotten Strawberries]]"
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[[Aishani/Comments|Aishani]] ([[User:Brieli|Brieli]] ([[User talk:Brieli|talk]])) left a comment on Mon, 10 Jun 2013 03:58:55 GMT.

<comment date="2013-06-10T03:58:55Z" name="Aishani" signature="[[User:Brieli|Brieli]] ([[User talk:Brieli|talk]])">
I really enjoyed this. I forgot to mention, and have little else to say but that, but yeah. :D
</comment>
[[Zian/Comments|Zian]] ([[User:Zian|Zian]] ([[User talk:Zian|talk]])) left a comment on Tue, 11 Jun 2013 05:15:39 GMT.

<comment date="2013-06-11T05:15:39Z" name="Zian" signature="[[User:Zian|Zian]] ([[User talk:Zian|talk]])">
<3 this
</comment>

Logs talk:Only Red

2013-06-04T21:26:59Z

Zian: Comment provided by Zian - via ArticleComments extension

<noinclude>Comments on "[[Logs:Only Red]]"
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[[Aishani/Comments|Aishani]] ([[User:Brieli|Brieli]] ([[User talk:Brieli|talk]])) left a comment on Sun, 02 Jun 2013 19:01:48 GMT.

<comment date="2013-06-02T19:01:48Z" name="Aishani" signature="[[User:Brieli|Brieli]] ([[User talk:Brieli|talk]])">
Guess that answers my questions... in a depressing sorta way.
</comment>
[[Azaylia/Comments|Azaylia]] ([[User:Dragonshy|Dragonshy]] ([[User talk:Dragonshy|talk]])) left a comment on Sun, 02 Jun 2013 21:26:29 GMT.

<comment date="2013-06-02T21:26:29Z" name="Azaylia" signature="[[User:Dragonshy|Dragonshy]] ([[User talk:Dragonshy|talk]])">
*grimaces* Oh man, N'hax. D: Poor Jhorinth..! ''<< You were/will be a Smith, >>'' Is like... exceptionally painful in this vignette in the best way. And sometimes, dragons just can't soothe what hurts their riders. I really like how clearly N'hax's pain and anger came through. Even if his actions caused this, I can't help but feel really bad. Poor guy.
</comment>
[[Zian/Comments|Zian]] ([[User:Zian|Zian]] ([[User talk:Zian|talk]])) left a comment on Tue, 04 Jun 2013 21:26:59 GMT.

<comment date="2013-06-04T21:26:59Z" name="Zian" signature="[[User:Zian|Zian]] ([[User talk:Zian|talk]])">
Oh no D:
</comment>

File:Icon i'zech facetouch.gif

2013-05-28T04:14:05Z

Zian:

File:Icon i'zech hide.gif

2013-05-28T04:11:19Z

Zian:

File:Icon i'zech enuffsaid.png

2013-05-28T04:10:52Z

Zian:

File:Icon i'zech ohlook.png

2013-05-28T04:10:21Z

Zian:

File:Icon i'zech effthat.png

2013-05-28T04:09:57Z

Zian:

File:Icon i'zech smash.png

2013-05-28T04:09:23Z

Zian:

File:Icon i'zech touch.png

2013-05-28T04:08:54Z

Zian:

File:Icon i'zech blaaargh.png

2013-05-28T04:08:26Z

Zian:

Logs:First Choice

2013-05-24T22:08:32Z

Zian:

{{ Log
| who = H'kon, Z'ian
| where = Lake Shore, High Rreaches Weyr
| what = Z'ian and H'kon chitchat. Kind of.
| when = Day 12, Month 11, Turn 31
| gamedate = 2013.05.23
| quote = Fishing.
| weather = Pretty nice.
| categories = Divided Learship.
| mentions = Azaylia, Taikrin
| ooc =
| icons = h'kon.jpeg, z'ian.jpg
| log =

Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr(#276RJs)
The rest of the bowl may be barren, grass barely surviving at best, but here by the lake, it's brilliantly green in the warmer months: thickening and thriving in the silty, boulder-dotted soil just before it transitions to soft sand and thence to the cool, clear water itself.

A large freshwater lake fed by a low waterfall, it not only provides warm-weather bathing space for humans and dragons, but has one end fenced off as a watering hole for the livestock in the feeding grounds. The water there is often muddier than the rest of the clear lake, whose shallows drop off abruptly several yards out into deep water, and whose edge undulates against the coarse-hewn bowl wall: here close enough to just be bramble-covered rocks, there far enough away that a narrow land bridge divides the main lake from a smallish pond. Between are several rocky outcroppings that form excellent makeshift diving points, though only one -- across the bridge -- has a set of narrow, slippery, quite possibly tempting stairs.

The sky is clear today. The air remains cool and damp, but the weather is overall pleasant today.

Dampness in the air is of no consequence when one is flipping one's wings in and out of the water. Just like one Arekoth is doing. The brown does his best to send water all along himself without having to dip too far beneath the surface, and leaves H'kon damp by association - and proximity - in the process. There are others along the shore, soaking in the last bits of warmth they can before winter hits. Some are even not concerned with steering clear of Arekoth. Mostly kids, but what can you do except look at them with stern eyebrows?

Tsanth enjoys the water even in the late fall, as does his rider. The bronze floats off a ways even as Z'ian makes to trudge out of the lake. It wouldn't do to stand around completely exposed to the elements, so he begins to towel off. First at the hair, that's when he notices Arekoth. Then everywhere else as he begins to look along the stretch of shore for the brown's rider.

If Arekoth is equipped with a sixth towel sense, he's playing it cool, biding his time. Focusing on H'kon, with head eerily still while the rest of him thrashes about in the water, stare intense, snout and 'ridges making him look downright fierce. H'kon blinks when water hits his face, only, speckles his shirt with droplets. Another wave has his own careful look and apologetic - except stern, still - nods going out to random folk. Z'ian remains, for the time, unseen.

Z'ian's hair is quick to towel dry, wrapping it around his shoulders he trudges along the shore until he's quite close to the other rider. Leaning down so he can talk close to H'kon's face, "I think he's up to something." It's just a case. Perhaps in preparation, he wraps himself up tighter.

H'kon sees Z'ian now, and goes on looking for some time, quiet, solemn, as his lifemate goes about making a show of himself and all the splendour that is his wingsails in the droplets. His head still remains still. After much too long a contemplation period, H'kon offers, "You might have said, 'I think he's still breathing.'"

Some time ago, standing here this long next to H'kon might have felt strange. But instead, Z'ian seems to be accepting of the period of silence. He watches after Arekoth just as the brown's rider does. "I think he's still breathing too." He remarks after an equally long stretch. "How are you?"

Long stretches are well and good if you've got two legs and are boring. It's just at the end of the third one between the two men, which H'kon breaks with a deep breath and visible rise of his chest, a sigh, and words of, "Much the same," that Arekoth takes the rinse cycle upon himself. H'kon closes an eye, the beginning of a tug at the corner of his mouth barely actualised, when more droplets hit. "And you?"

"I'm considering returning my dragon and farming llamas." Z'ian admits, a twitch along the corners of his mouth. He straightens when it seems that Arekoth is about to perhaps, spray water everywhere. The towel is once again tightened around him. Somewhere out in the lake the small bronze makes a complaint. It probably has to do with being better than a llama.

"Llamas would not be my first choice of profession," comes relatively quickly, considering the recent pace of their conversation. This time, there's no hinting pull to his lips, and after a quick look to his brown, H'kon's eyes are on Z'ian. Pensive, this time. Serious, as per his usual.

"Herdbeasts?" Z'ian suggests instead, one eyebrow arching upwards. And then finally and more truthfully, "I've been better. But I've been worse."

Finally, the brown ducks down a bit lower, and gets himself well soaked. This makes the perfect time for an exit, wings wide and dripping strategically. H'kon doesn't take evasive action. He's still studying that bronzerider. "Troubled?" is shared at last.

Z'ian glances in Arekoth's direction, hunching his shoulders up in preparation for the upcoming water-off-wings. For the question he lifts his shoulders. "It's a scary thing when what you thought was solid isn't."

"The Weyr is not itself when it has at its head one who would bend it to her own purposes." Arekoth lets the water sheet down from his wings, gives a couple shakes when the drops slow, and then moves along. His head rotates now, to keep both riders in view. "There will be no solidity in that."

"It's been like this for so long, I just never realized the extent of it." Z'ian comments and tries to keep his face from getting hit directly with the water off Arekoth's wings. "Or who was helping to hide it from everyone."

H'kon nods, face still locked, brow furrowed and lips thin-pressed and all. "If this is payment for what she feels owed her..." It's a thought unfinished, and H'kon shakes his head. "Her place is not at the head of the Weyr. Nor yet is yours." And there's a careful glance put Z'ian's way. Arekoth preens and looks pretty.

"It's beginning to crumble, by bits." Z'ian seems to find some comfort in that. However, that last remark of the brownrider's has him lifting his eyebrows, glancing over to him. "Excuse me?"

"There are those who would suggest otherwise. Boreal." For one. H'kon tilts his head faintly in Z'ian's direction. "There is only one person who can rightly be followed at this time." And what sounds like it might go somewhere ends up hovering there, with H'kon turning green eyes to Arekoth. "We are both tired of being still. Some order needs be restored." Arekoth flicks his wingtips.

"Boreal." The bronzerider sighs, takes a breath. "Suggestions don't mean reality." Z'ian lapses into silence, shifting his shoulders and staring out over the lake. "Azaylia's thrown Taikrin to the side. Riders who push against her no longer need to fear an unjust punishment for their actions. There's some order to that." He stretches his fingers. "Before it would have been impossible for dragons to ignore Szadath, but now. He no longer has full support, they can go to Hraedhyth. Rally behind her. Do that with us."

"Suggestion can force many a strange action," H'kon offers as counter, though there's nothing aggressive to it. His eyes are still on his dragon, though he has the decency to not look straight on Arekoth, but turn his head enough that his mouth is pointed slightly more in Z'ian's direction. There's another of those pauses, those long ones, and even the brown doesn't try to fill the space. "Fishing," he decides.

He exhales a breath of air, glancing upwards towards the sky. "Not for me." The fishing. But then again his first choice was ''llamas'' so his judgement really ought to be questioned.

"No matter," comes in H'kon time, again. He takes his hands from his pockets, and rubs idly at the traces since-dried drops of water once made along his cheeks. "They cannot simply be traded." That must serve as farewell, in his mind. The little brownrider starts away.

"Maybe I could sell him." There's further complaints from his lifemate all the way out there, Z'ian just smiles look in Tsanth's direction. H'kon is moving on, moving away and he twists to glance after him. "Good bye." Simple as that.

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Logs:First Choice

2013-05-24T22:07:43Z

Zian: Created page with "{{ Log | who = H'kon, Z'ian | where = Lake Shore, High Rreaches Weyr | what = Z'ian and H'kon chitchat. Kind of. | when = Day 12, Month 11, Turn 31 | gamedate = 2013.05.23 ..."

{{ Log
| who = H'kon, Z'ian
| where = Lake Shore, High Rreaches Weyr
| what = Z'ian and H'kon chitchat. Kind of.
| when = Day 12, Month 11, Turn 31
| gamedate = 2013.05.23
| quote = Fishing.
| weather = Pretty nice.
| categories = Divided Learship.
| mentions = Azaylia, Taikrin
| ooc =
| icons = h'kon.jpg, z'ian.jpg
| log =

Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr(#276RJs)
The rest of the bowl may be barren, grass barely surviving at best, but here by the lake, it's brilliantly green in the warmer months: thickening and thriving in the silty, boulder-dotted soil just before it transitions to soft sand and thence to the cool, clear water itself.

A large freshwater lake fed by a low waterfall, it not only provides warm-weather bathing space for humans and dragons, but has one end fenced off as a watering hole for the livestock in the feeding grounds. The water there is often muddier than the rest of the clear lake, whose shallows drop off abruptly several yards out into deep water, and whose edge undulates against the coarse-hewn bowl wall: here close enough to just be bramble-covered rocks, there far enough away that a narrow land bridge divides the main lake from a smallish pond. Between are several rocky outcroppings that form excellent makeshift diving points, though only one -- across the bridge -- has a set of narrow, slippery, quite possibly tempting stairs.

The sky is clear today. The air remains cool and damp, but the weather is overall pleasant today.

Dampness in the air is of no consequence when one is flipping one's wings in and out of the water. Just like one Arekoth is doing. The brown does his best to send water all along himself without having to dip too far beneath the surface, and leaves H'kon damp by association - and proximity - in the process. There are others along the shore, soaking in the last bits of warmth they can before winter hits. Some are even not concerned with steering clear of Arekoth. Mostly kids, but what can you do except look at them with stern eyebrows?

Tsanth enjoys the water even in the late fall, as does his rider. The bronze floats off a ways even as Z'ian makes to trudge out of the lake. It wouldn't do to stand around completely exposed to the elements, so he begins to towel off. First at the hair, that's when he notices Arekoth. Then everywhere else as he begins to look along the stretch of shore for the brown's rider.

If Arekoth is equipped with a sixth towel sense, he's playing it cool, biding his time. Focusing on H'kon, with head eerily still while the rest of him thrashes about in the water, stare intense, snout and 'ridges making him look downright fierce. H'kon blinks when water hits his face, only, speckles his shirt with droplets. Another wave has his own careful look and apologetic - except stern, still - nods going out to random folk. Z'ian remains, for the time, unseen.

Z'ian's hair is quick to towel dry, wrapping it around his shoulders he trudges along the shore until he's quite close to the other rider. Leaning down so he can talk close to H'kon's face, "I think he's up to something." It's just a case. Perhaps in preparation, he wraps himself up tighter.

H'kon sees Z'ian now, and goes on looking for some time, quiet, solemn, as his lifemate goes about making a show of himself and all the splendour that is his wingsails in the droplets. His head still remains still. After much too long a contemplation period, H'kon offers, "You might have said, 'I think he's still breathing.'"

Some time ago, standing here this long next to H'kon might have felt strange. But instead, Z'ian seems to be accepting of the period of silence. He watches after Arekoth just as the brown's rider does. "I think he's still breathing too." He remarks after an equally long stretch. "How are you?"

Long stretches are well and good if you've got two legs and are boring. It's just at the end of the third one between the two men, which H'kon breaks with a deep breath and visible rise of his chest, a sigh, and words of, "Much the same," that Arekoth takes the rinse cycle upon himself. H'kon closes an eye, the beginning of a tug at the corner of his mouth barely actualised, when more droplets hit. "And you?"

"I'm considering returning my dragon and farming llamas." Z'ian admits, a twitch along the corners of his mouth. He straightens when it seems that Arekoth is about to perhaps, spray water everywhere. The towel is once again tightened around him. Somewhere out in the lake the small bronze makes a complaint. It probably has to do with being better than a llama.

"Llamas would not be my first choice of profession," comes relatively quickly, considering the recent pace of their conversation. This time, there's no hinting pull to his lips, and after a quick look to his brown, H'kon's eyes are on Z'ian. Pensive, this time. Serious, as per his usual.

"Herdbeasts?" Z'ian suggests instead, one eyebrow arching upwards. And then finally and more truthfully, "I've been better. But I've been worse."

Finally, the brown ducks down a bit lower, and gets himself well soaked. This makes the perfect time for an exit, wings wide and dripping strategically. H'kon doesn't take evasive action. He's still studying that bronzerider. "Troubled?" is shared at last.

Z'ian glances in Arekoth's direction, hunching his shoulders up in preparation for the upcoming water-off-wings. For the question he lifts his shoulders. "It's a scary thing when what you thought was solid isn't."

"The Weyr is not itself when it has at its head one who would bend it to her own purposes." Arekoth lets the water sheet down from his wings, gives a couple shakes when the drops slow, and then moves along. His head rotates now, to keep both riders in view. "There will be no solidity in that."

"It's been like this for so long, I just never realized the extent of it." Z'ian comments and tries to keep his face from getting hit directly with the water off Arekoth's wings. "Or who was helping to hide it from everyone."

H'kon nods, face still locked, brow furrowed and lips thin-pressed and all. "If this is payment for what she feels owed her..." It's a thought unfinished, and H'kon shakes his head. "Her place is not at the head of the Weyr. Nor yet is yours." And there's a careful glance put Z'ian's way. Arekoth preens and looks pretty.

"It's beginning to crumble, by bits." Z'ian seems to find some comfort in that. However, that last remark of the brownrider's has him lifting his eyebrows, glancing over to him. "Excuse me?"

"There are those who would suggest otherwise. Boreal." For one. H'kon tilts his head faintly in Z'ian's direction. "There is only one person who can rightly be followed at this time." And what sounds like it might go somewhere ends up hovering there, with H'kon turning green eyes to Arekoth. "We are both tired of being still. Some order needs be restored." Arekoth flicks his wingtips.

"Boreal." The bronzerider sighs, takes a breath. "Suggestions don't mean reality." Z'ian lapses into silence, shifting his shoulders and staring out over the lake. "Azaylia's thrown Taikrin to the side. Riders who push against her no longer need to fear an unjust punishment for their actions. There's some order to that." He stretches his fingers. "Before it would have been impossible for dragons to ignore Szadath, but now. He no longer has full support, they can go to Hraedhyth. Rally behind her. Do that with us."

"Suggestion can force many a strange action," H'kon offers as counter, though there's nothing aggressive to it. His eyes are still on his dragon, though he has the decency to not look straight on Arekoth, but turn his head enough that his mouth is pointed slightly more in Z'ian's direction. There's another of those pauses, those long ones, and even the brown doesn't try to fill the space. "Fishing," he decides.

He exhales a breath of air, glancing upwards towards the sky. "Not for me." The fishing. But then again his first choice was ''llamas'' so his judgement really ought to be questioned.

"No matter," comes in H'kon time, again. He takes his hands from his pockets, and rubs idly at the traces since-dried drops of water once made along his cheeks. "They cannot simply be traded." That must serve as farewell, in his mind. The little brownrider starts away.

"Maybe I could sell him." There's further complaints from his lifemate all the way out there, Z'ian just smiles look in Tsanth's direction. H'kon is moving on, moving away and he twists to glance after him. "Good bye." Simple as that.

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Logs:River Bends, Plural.

2013-05-24T22:01:35Z

Zian: Created page with "{{ Log | who = Z'ian, Telavi | where = River Bend Hold | what = A brief break during sweeps. | when = Day 9, Month 11, Turn 31 | gamedate = 2013.05.22 | quote = It would be mo..."

{{ Log
| who = Z'ian, Telavi
| where = River Bend Hold
| what = A brief break during sweeps.
| when = Day 9, Month 11, Turn 31
| gamedate = 2013.05.22
| quote = It would be more dramatic if I ''did''
| weather = Cloudy
| categories =
| mentions = E'sren
| ooc =
| icons = z'ian.jpg, telavi.jpg
| log =

River Bend(#1636R)
Not quite as grand as High Reaches Hold, this stone fortress, situated at the bend of a river, makes the attempt at least with its stalwart walls and banners flying throughout the day. It's an agrarian society with vast fields that acts as the main hold's bread basket. Tiny villages dot the landscape leading up to the main hold, one of the few actual built structures still left on Pern.

It's a nice place, River Bend. With some of the smaller weyrling dragons not being quite up to speed yet with Boreal's larger and more experienced wingriders an occasional break is in order. Z'ian takes them down this time around, with his Wingsecond taking the rest of the wing on ahead. They land somewhere close to the actual river, the farmland around them settling well into autumn now. Tsanth is careful not to be in the way of the immature dragons as they come to rest, allowing his rider to dismount. Hitting the ground with both feet, he stretches his legs out and casts a curious look to the Hold that's in the distance before glancing around at the two or three weyrlings with them.

Solith lands with a hop-hop-hop, less sticking the landing and more enjoying the skid of her paws through the high grass that's allowed to grow here in Interval. Telavi rides it out, probably helps that she's a girl, and tries not to look anything like embarrassed. The helmet helps with that, the goggles too, though she lifts up the latter to see how the place looks untinted. "Yes," she adds to Solith. "There really is a bend in the river. Creative, right?" The not-completely-little green shakes her wings back with a brief, light warble that questions Tsanth, << Are there other River Bends at other bends in the river? We want to know. >> ''She'' wants to know, anyway, and maybe a couple of the larger weyrlings too.

Z'ian watches the way that the young green lands, unclipping his helmet and removing his goggles as he does. There's a faint hint of amusement to the turn of his mouth and he glances behind him to his own lifemate. << In some places. But they are not all of the same name. >> The older bronze answers, also seemingly entertained by Solith. "She's a handful." He remarks with wry humor before moving off. With there not being a tremendous amount to do here to keep a person entertained, he wanders close to the edge of the river and kneels down, putting his fingers into it to test the temperature.

<< What, are they River Bend''s''? >> Because that would be completely different. "She is that," Tela remarks with a sideways glance at the wingleader. Boreal's wingleader. Jo's wingleader. For the moment she stays astride, sitting there cooly, tilting her head up towards the sky. Rain sooner? Rain later? It's one of the other weyrlings who bounds off her dragon and hurries over to make up to Z'ian, all excited about how they have gotten to ''fly'' with ''Boreal'' and it's been so much ''fun'' and it's the bestest wing ''ever''. Solith, though: << And why is he doing that, Tsanth? Does he want a fish to bite it? >>

<< They have names that are not River Bend at all. >> Tsanth responds, the dragon of infinite patience with weyrlings that ask a lot of questions. Meanwhile, Z'ian blinks as he straightens up and encounters the bouncing younger rider. He smiles politely, lifting his shoulders and nodding at the appropriate points. Glad you had a good time. It's a pretty nice wing, yes. << He wants to see how cold the water is. He's merely curious. >> If the bronzerider is aware of Telavi's sideways glances, he doesn't make visible notce of them. He's fielding questions from this other person who eventually manages to disengage from.

Rain... Tela holds out a palm, but no rain ''yet''. << Hm, >> says Solith, and lets that suffice for both questions, though there's a quick uptick in the breeze that speaks of ''interest''. The third weyrling? He's all but asleep over his dragon's neck, head sagging, and his dragon's not much better.
.
Is it about to rain? Z'ian turns his attention skyward, losing the focus in his eyes as he touches base with Tsanth. Who touches base likely with some member of Boreal flying away. Tela and Solith are quiet, so they don't necessarily garner a lot of his attention. However the third weyrling nearly being asleep is something of an issue. As he makes his way back to the bronze, he casually kicks the weyrling dragon in the leg. That should wake him up.

It ''does''. There's a bleat of a bugle, followed by an object lesson in yes, straps are meant to hold people on for a reason. By the time the boy finishes righting himself, he's red-faced from more than just sun and... well, both the other two weyrlings are trying to hide snickers, poor examples that ''they'' are. Tela knees Solith into motion, carefully, so the weyrling can look down at the wingleader's head. "Anything we should be looking for, sir? Or is it simply a rest?"

The surprised reaction from the dragon has Z'ian laughing quietly to himself as he returns to his own. He pulls absently on Tsanth's straps, tweaking one of the buckles. "It's simply a rest." He replies, glancing up and over his shoulder at Telavi. His helmet and such are nearby and he grabs them up now. "Unless of course, there's something that you would like to look for?"

"Wouldn't mind some buried treasure if there happened to be some in the offing," Tela says with a quick smile. "Though I rather expect the locals wouldn't care for random digging and, you know, I'd as soon not just dig to dig." She sits back, then, unhurried. Solith shifts her wings back too, all energetic again, because a rest of a full five minutes is ''bound'' to completely revive her... for at least ''another'' five minutes.

"I don't keep my treasure buried in the ground. It makes it difficult to access later on." Z'ian comments, fitting his helmet back on and climbing back up Tsanth's side with his help. The bronze beneath him shifts, casting a glance skywards. "They probably wouldn't." He agrees on the concept of random digging around River Bend. "Is that all you'd search for though, buried treasure?" He wonders curiously. The talkative weyrling is still on the ground and the narcoleptic appears to be keeping it together enough to be conscious.

"What, you wouldn't plant a tree over it like in the stories?" To someone like E'sren, Tela's voice would be deadpan, to Sabella, undoubtedly more giggly and involving speculation about what ''kind'' of tree, to the wingleader, she puts in just enough humor to be more easily recognized for the joke it is. "Mmm. They probably wouldn't care for us searching out crops or candidates, just now. Is there something in particular you're thinking of, sir?"

"I'm not a gardener." Z'ian shoots back lightly, seeming to appreciate the humor to some degree. "Probably not. Though I don't know that this particular Hold is that worried with us. They're somewhat further removed from things than some of the major ones." His eyes trail away from Telavi again, drifting over to buildings in the background. "Not particularly. I just like to ask, see what people will say sometimes." The others are beginning to look restless so he gives a little wave of his hand to them, as well as some silent instruction from Tsanth. The pair glance towards the green weyrling and her dragon before starting off and taking to the skies again.

"And so it's here that we land," Telavi says, more in would-be casual surmise than in question, with a quick nod for his latter comment and a quicker glance back to the others. She echoes Z'ian's wave with her own, but once they're aloft, looks back down at him in a way that isn't ''quite'' expectant if only through force of will.

"Indeed." Her look may be expectant but he certainly doesn't seem to be about to do anything exciting. At least well, not anything ''dramatically'' exciting. In fact several minutes by in complete silence. Eventually though he'll speak again. "So, what other wings have you been flying with?" He'll twist around to get a better look at her, eyeballing her green on its hindlegs. "...And ah, how have you liked it with this one so far?"

Patience is not a skill Telavi often cares to employ, but here's yet another time where she must. Solith has been busying herself with sniffing around, and now drops down to all four paws since she's done with the nearest tree. Only a moment's quick breath keeps the green's rider from being ''too'' quick on the uptake, easy with her words instead of slamming into them. "Avalanche and Frostbite most recently, sir, nothing like changing things up. It's been interesting," and she puts it lightly, as genuine interest rather than the ''interesting''-in-a-bad-way that could otherwise infuse her voice, "shadowing a wing that has more to do with the heavy hitters." Which, surely, are only large dragons and not ''hitting''.

Tsanth is hardly interesting at all, in fact, he seems glad that they're not moving around. But then he's always been somewhat lazy and indulgent. "I flew with Avalanche for a turn, after Taiga. Sisha runs a tight sheep, she doesn't care that it's an interval or not." There's respect there, as anyone would have for the wing's tough leader. "Boreal's been full of big dragons for a long time. We're probably going to incorporate some more blues and greens, as time marches along."

Solith settles down at least a ''little'' as the humans continue to talk, and her crouch means that Telavi has to crane to look up that much more. At least the green isn't aiming after Tsanth's tail or anything, though those whirling eyes are all too likely to have ''noticed''. Tela inclines her head for Sisha and the respect she's earned, mentioning, "I understand she'd served as wingsecond for quite some time," but then she's looking up again, never mind her neck now. Not that she doesn't rub it with one hand, but more importantly, "Where are you seeing the wing headed, over the next few Turns, that you'd want that? Sir."

<< I am watching you. >> Tsanth warns quietly, with the soft sound of sifting sand. In fact, he even turns his head to consider Solith as she watches his tail. "Yes. She's an example of how a rider can and should rise up through the ranks." There's something self-aware in his expression next. "Not that there aren't other ways, exceptions." Like ousting another Wingleader. "I'd like to focus more on the riders that we'd be recruiting, as opposed to the dragons they're bonded to. What are their connections outside of life at High Reaches, where do they see themselves, where do they see our home? What are their skills? We're not Pass riders, so."

Single-lidded eyes peek up at Tsanth, but slowly, caught in the act but utterly untroubled by it. << That is fine, >> Solith allows. << You may if you like. >> She whips her tail-tip back and forth, just because. Her rider's more sedate, though that's a relative thing, and focused. "Of course," Tela murmurs for the example, for the exceptions, permitted to be a touch dry given that self-awareness of his. "I'd like to hear more about that. Do you expect much turnover, or more people joining up as others depart... through infirmities?"

<< Mmhmm. >> Comes Tsanth's lazy reply, casually watchful of the younger dragon. Perhaps not quite trusting. Z'ian leans forward, leaning a forearm onto an available neckridge. "It's going to be a slow process, but I plan on being around for it." He admits, his mouth twisting up into a briefly amused smirk. "As I see it, our Weyr is still top-heavy with older riders from the actual pass. A lot of them are still flight-worthy. But eventually, they won't be. Also, people change wings because they want to or because they get pushed out. I'll do what I need to do to create the appropriate environment for this wing."

Tela sits back as he leans forward, not avoidant but to make the angle easier. At least Solith is more or less still for once. "And ''connectedness'' is part of that environment, along with looking outside but... keeping their hearth here?" One of her dimples shows up, briefly. "I'd ask if there were going to be 'trust falls,' but that might not seem like I'm taking all this seriously... and I am."

"Loyalty to the 'Reaches is foremost and not that misguided sort that would get us into trouble." Like the kind of trouble Boreal's former Wingleader and 'Second found themselves within. "But ''connectedness'' with the outside is important as well. We're nothing without the Holds, we're nothing without the Crafthalls that call this area home. It only benefits us to cultivate those relationships. Why shouldn't our wing be amongst the forerunners in doing that?" The bronze beneath him shifts and he lifts his forearm up. Z'ian laughs at her question, shaking his head. "I'm sure that you are. Don't think you'd have gotten this far in weyrlinghood without being at least a little serious."

That connection's reflected in Telavi's expression, and she gives it a quick nod. At the end she adds, "That's good to hear," with raised thumb and forefinger that alternate between measuring a ''little'' versus ''tiny'' versus as wide as her hand can reach and back again. "Positive connections, I imagine?" she says. "Not just families here and there, acquaintances, friends, but those who get along."

Z'ian can only smirk for the alternate measurements she produces for him. "As opposed to the negative ones? I don't necessarily want to meet your greatest nemesis outside of the weyr." A pause and a quick smile. "Do you have one?" Before moving along. "It could be anything. Sometimes a person's family can be greatly beneficial to the weyr. Other people have business connections or trade, lives before they came to the weyr."

"It would be more dramatic if I ''did''," Telavi says with a sigh. "Alas." Those staged dream-focused eyes are short-lived, though, she's back to quick and focused, even if her speech is measured. "A life before coming here, I certainly had that,though humble enough with my needle. You'd know of E'sren's connection to his trader family, of course," by contrast.

"I imagine that it's probably very inconvienent to have an actual nemesis." Z'ian comments, eyes glancing upwards to the sky. Checking for that threating rain. "Sometimes people have connections to their life before that they don't even really think about. And it's not ''all'' about that. Some people have talents, a tenacity that makes them valuable." He shrugs his shoulders. "There's a lot of variables." Of E'sren and his family, he gives a nod. "I do. I make a habit to know."

She doesn't ask what he's doing, nor what he's found, but rather does likewise but with the extended back of her hand. "It seems to be," Telavi says briefly, and then she's listening to what the wingleader says, connections that they ''don't'' think about, talents, ''tenacity''. And that habit of knowing. "You've given me some things to think about. Thank you." There's her quick smile, reappearing. "Ready to get rained on, sir?"

"Getting rained on. One of the more glorious aspects of riderhood." Z'ian comments dryly as one of the first drops lands on his hand. "I hope they're at least interesting things and not, 'I hope I never have to see him again'." He flashes her smile and in answer to her question, Tsanth backs up. He's careful of Solith, but he's up in the sky quickly enough.

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Z'ian

2013-05-24T02:29:35Z

Zian:

{{HrwProfile
|picture=z'ian2.jpg
|position= Bronzerider
|birthplace= High Reaches Hold
|craft=
|mother= Mikaela
|father= Zaren
|siblings= Malachi ( +8) / Alek (+2)
|children= Marzio (- 21) / Zaidan ( -24)
|friends=
|playedby= Bradley Cooper
|livejournal=}}

== Description ==

Z'ian is a man that looks comfortably settled into his own body. Tall with broad shoulders and an appropriate level of muscle to his body he exudes a certain level of confidence that's not cocky really, but closer to being easily capable. His hair is a tousled mess of a dirty blonde that's more often than not on the shaggy side and he's usually shaven, but sometimes he'll let a five o'clock shadow creep in and mature for a few days. The angles of his face are sharp with a strong jaw and a nose that's on the longish side. The most striking and likable features about him is probably his bright blue eyes and friendly smile that lights up his face. Otherwise he's more or less typical in appearance, leaning towards the boy-next-door look.

There's nothing write home about here. He's the type of man that dresses plainly, but practically. The High Reaches are cold, so he'll wear his fur lined riding jacket. His shirts will be long sleeved and his pants will be a dark, heavy material. His boots are also heavy and made to deal with clomping around in snowy areas.

== WYSK ==

Z'ian impressed at High Reaches Weyr in Turn 15.

He's the father to two sons from a previous weyrmate.

He's been largely against the tradition breaking that's occurred in the wake of the subsequent goldflights.

Following the exposure of the traitors N'mos and S'varis, Z'ian found himself appointed by H'kon to the Wingleadership of Boreal. This would be the second wing change in approximately a turn.

== History ==

Originally Zachrian of High Reaches Hold, he was born the youngest son to two lower class members of the hold. His mother worked as a seamstress and his father at a variety of odd jobs around the hold itself. They never had a lot of anything but they never went without food, clothes, etc… That said, Zachrian and his brothers were mommas boys, all three of them. She provided the emotional support and lessons on how to be a good person. His father, emotionally distant but intelligent and capable provided the lessons on how not to be “a damn idiot”.

His two brothers managed to find themselves a place in the world, one entering the smithcraft and the other a bit more enterprising, hitched a ship ride down south to take advantage of some trading opportunities. Zachrian spent the later portion of his teen years relatively aimless until a rider from High Reaches arrived at the hold.

Following being searched, he impressed to bronze Tsanth and became known as Z’ian. Since then he’s been at the weyr for many of the important events that have unfolded since then, though always on the sidelines and never as a major player. Over the turns he's shed off the preconceptions of weyr life that many holders are known for harboring and has settled in to become a relatively well adjusted and pro-High Reaches Weyr rider.

At thirty-two he's had a string of long term relationships with different women. He's the known father to at least two children, though he doesn't do a lot of active parenting. Z'ian is a kind but mostly absentee and awkward sort of man when it comes to younger children. His kids don't suffer from it as they're raised primarily by their mother in the lower caverns with the rest of the weyrbrats. He visits them when it’s important to but otherwise keeps out of the way.

In the past he’s kept his mouth and his nose out of any business that didn’t involve him directly. Like many however he was dismayed by the recent loss of their Weyrwoman and the subsequent stepping down of K'del. In the months since, he’d slowly begun to form a more firm opinion on the delicate political balance of High Reaches.

In Hraedhyth’s flight, there were witnesses who would swear that his bronze was clearing a path through the chasers. A path that K’del’s Cadejoth followed, almost as if he knew that it was going to be there. That alone has brought on some stares, but not much more than his falling in with the group of riders who aren’t recognizing the Weyrleadership of Taikrin or H’kon. While he’s yet to do anything drastic, Z’ian is at the least a sympathizer that’s currently passively resisting the state of affairs.

== Relationships ==

[[Aishani]]: The people judging you the most are the ones that have never had a real secret to hide or are just plain hypocrites.

[[Azaylia]]: You're stronger than you think you are.

[[Barnabas]]: Definitely a little crazy, but I get the feeling there's something else there. I can't help but like him, he's a good time.

[[H'kon]]: I'm sorry about what's happening to you now, with the rumors.

[[Jo]]: You're more than my friend. But it's so much more complicated than that, isn't it?

[[K'del]]: I don't know.

[[Taikrin]]: Well, you're the Weyrleader now.

[[Vienne]]: You're on my side now, I'm glad to have you. I think we're going to work well together.

== Soundtrack ==

[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=231yw5o_vYM Last Mistake - Augustana] <br> ''Hiding in the faces of people left behind, <br> In your soul and in my mind, in the ground, <br> Living in the memories of the years that pass us by, <br> Where our demons go to die, in the ground.''

== RP Logs ==

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

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

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

{{Icons}}

{{HRW}}

[[category:Characters]]
[[category:Riders]]
[[category:Bronzeriders]]
[[category:High Reaches Weyr]]
[[Category:Boreal Wing]]
[[category:High Reaches Area]]
[[category:Greater Pern]]

HRW:Weyrlings/Month8/Recap

2013-05-23T03:38:46Z

Zian: /* Sabella */

{{WeyrlingNav |title=Month8}}

== Alida ==

== C'wlin ==

== D'kan ==

== E'sren ==

== K'zin ==

Who knew one could be busier? K'zin didn't. For the first seven, its rough going as Sh'mel and K'zin try to find their rhythm. Maybe it was intentional the weyrlingmasters' part to choose a Cirrus greenrider who ''wasn't'' local born. What's more is that Sh'mel, who'd been a launderer at Telgar Hold before getting picked up not long before the eggs shelled, doesn't exactly seem to have leadership written all over him (or really on any of him). He's competent as a weyrling, of course, and was doing well in Cirrus, but is overwhelmed by having to lead a ''different'' wing. It doesn't help that leadership doesn't come naturally to the soft-spoken nineteen turn old. The roughness in the rhythm comes from Sh'mel not knowing how to approach leadership, not knowing K'zin or the wing, and K'zin waiting for Sh'mel to take the lead. Once Sh'mel sorts out (with self-resentment for it) that he needs K'zin, and makes stupid mistakes sometimes when he tries to stand on his own two feet, things become smoother. Well, a bit smoother.

By the middle of the first seven a few things have become clear: K'zin is wing''second'', which means he's fulfilling his role in making Sh'mel's job easier and supporting him, he and Rasavyth share the goals of safety, overall wing success, and providing Sh'mel with whatever support he needs to be successful. K'zin had previously been seen fraternizing with Cirrus, though not with Sh'mel in particular, and his full support to the greenrider seems to fall right in line with his cooperative, non-competitive agenda. Rasavyth, too, is very helpful to Tayabeth (and Sh'mel by extension). She's not a natural leader either, though more attentive than some greens. If Rasavyth is offering her advice, it's not seen overtly. K'zin is also the one sent after slackers who don't get up on time, as he's more familiar with the weyrlings in the wing. He's not mean about it, or mad, just very no-nonsense and professional. By the end of the first seven, the leaders will find their balance and they'll be doing their bests to help the others find it, too.

As for the firestone competition at the end of the month? K'zin is all about beat your own best, help everyone, and safety first. K'zin more than Sh'mel (who seems a touch introverted) makes himself available to any weyrlings struggling with anything. If it's not something he's good at, he'll still try, and try to find you another weyrling that does excel at whatever it is, and practice ''with'' you.

Extra exercises he frequently did with Azaylia and Alida or set aside. (This does have the effect of him being a '''liiiiiittle''' excited about the physical training done with the wing. So, expect that to be demanding unless it's pointed out to him that someone is having trouble with the rigorous expectations.) Contrary to previous months, he seems to have ceased all his personal extracurricular. There's only two things in his life this month: Flurry Wing and Silver Threads. Exceptions are certainly made for friends (no abandonment!) seeking to steal a few minutes with him. Though an occasional visitor might be seen coming to his ledge, there's been quiet instructions passed around those on elevator duty not to bring people to his weyr, and those that are anyway are met, spoken with on the ledge in hushed tones, and sent back down to the bowl - some looking none-too-pleased with the previously ''very friendly'' bronzer!

== N'hax ==

== N'ky ==

== Sabella ==

With the ever growing political tension in the Weyr, Sabella's grown restless with her Silver Threads status. While she continues to do the work and keep up with her duties, she's been known to make comments. And the sketches she does have lately been taking on the appearance of 'political cartoons'. A deeply prejudicial and likely demeaning drawing of some leader in the Weyr, with a snarky caption scrawled underneath. She largely keeps them to herself, but now and then they've been popping around the barracks. Or "left" in the records room. Or "misplaced" at breakfast in the living cavern. They're not signed and if asked, she'll deny and swear up and down that they're not hers. Additionally, there was a rumor that she spoke with Aishani, became upset and was dragged out of the Weyr by I'zech. How much of that is true and to what extent is up for speculation. But as of yet, she hasn't quit or been removed.

== Sh'mel (NPC Wingleader) ==
Re-cap of known details (feel free to add as you RP!)
* 19 turns old, paired with green Tayabeth
* Not a leader but was a competent rider in Cirrus
* Was a launderer at Telgar Hold before coming to HRW, searched not long before hatching
* soft-spoken
* resents needing to lean on K'zin
* makes dumb mistakes when he tries to stride out on his own
* Tayabeth is not a natural leader, but more attentive than some greens

== Telavi ==

== Meara ==

== Quinlys ==

== I'zech ==

Sabella

2013-05-22T22:51:25Z

Zian: /* Supposedly Humorous Ghislaith Observations */

{{HrwProfile
|picture=Sabs46.jpg
|position=Weyrling
|craft=
|birthplace=Crom Hold
|mother= Islana
|father= Who?
|siblings= Too many.
|friends=
|children= None.
|playedby= Shailene Woodley
|livejournal=
}}

== Description ==

Sabella isn’t what a person would call typically beautiful, but she has a certain quirky appeal that’s certainly attractive. She’s of average height with a slender build and the appropriate curves, but by no means actually curvy. Her hair is a long, sweeping voluminous affair that goes past her shoulders, a bright, shiny chestnut in color. With a delicate, heart shaped face her mouth is soft with a full lips and her nose is a touch too long and straight. Straight eyebrows are drawn across wide green eyes, almond shaped and pulling up just slightly at the corners.

She’s a well dressed girl, not because her clothes are expensive but because she has style. On any given day, she’s rocking a certain bohemian fashion. Her skirts are long and flowing (or short with leggings) and her shirts are billowy and worn with plain jackets, just thick enough to keep out the chill but not to be bulky. The boots she loves to wear are heeled, dark black leather with laces that run up to her knees.

== WYSK ==

Originally from the general area of Crom Hold.

Was a hairdresser to the Lady of Greenfield Hold.

Now a weyrling at High Reaches Weyr.

== History ==

Sabella is from the Crom region, hailing from a dubious background. If questioned hard about her upbringing she'd likely say she was from some small holding in the area, raised by her parents of moderate means. In truth, she's just another youth from a crappy family that didn't have much of anything and didn’t do much of anything for her either. She learned to pick pockets and steal in order to survive her hand to mouth existence. It helped that she had a sweet, innocent face and a penchant for telling a good lie well. And if she’s had to resort to any other means, she’s not going to willfully volunteer that kind of information. If she volunteers any of the above at all.

Around the time she was fifteen, she was initiated into a rougher gang of nefarious criminals. While running with them she was able to polish her skills and raise her standard of living somewhat. Nearing age nineteen, her group was able to find job placement for her at Greenfields Hold, attending to the Lady's hair issues. Her job was simple, work her confidence and feed any valuable intel she might hear back to the group.

With the double-clutch at High Reaches she found herself being swept away by a rider from there and set down as a candidate. Whether she was searched “on purpose” or as a natural turn of events, she’s not likely to say. However one thing is sure, in Turn 31, Sabella impressed green Ghislaith.

When asked about her life before coming to the Weyr, Sabs is proficient at eluding the difficult questions and giving responses that don't answer much of anything or ultimately reveal nothing that's particularly exciting.

== Relationships ==

*[[Alida]]: Hostile. Overly self-confident. Possibly crazy.
*[[E'sren]]: There's no way that this is going to end up anywhere other than bad-awesome. We're going to spend the night locked up in a cell together. It'll be great.
*[[Jo]]: Badass. Totally my unofficial mentor and way cooler than the actual one I got assigned with. A fifty-something brownrder? Ugh.
*[[K'zin]] Much more doggedly determined in some things than I thought. Also a lot harder to avoid than anticipated.
*[[N'ky]]: Sweet. He's really a good friend to K'zin, I can respect that about him.
*[[N'hax]]: Talented. What is he doing here with the rest of us?

== Supposedly Humorous Ghislaith Observations ==

Just some of my own "funny" observations of other dragon's from Ghislaith's perspective. Doesn't matter if she's "met" them on-camera or not. Not everyone is represented either. Not to be taken seriously. ;)

'''Ahruth:''' I knew that I should have built a garage.

'''Rasavyth:''' Spiders. Now I need to hire an exterminator.

'''Tacuseth:''' Great, there’s a bunch of people outside.

'''Rojeth:''' Why is the weather here so shitty?

'''Hraedhyth:''' I’m glad I got fire coverage on my homeowners.

'''Iesaryth:''' Does that cover floods too? Better check.

'''Solith:''' It’s drafty in here, I should close the windows.

'''Cadejoth''': If that dog walks mud into this house one more time…

'''Oswinth:''' Ugh, can’t the Universe just stop expanding already?

== Soundtrack ==

[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ghb6eDopW8I Little Talks - Of Monsters and Men]

''Hey! Hey! Hey! <br> I don't like walking around this old and empty house <br> So hold my hand, I'll walk with you, my dear <br> The stairs creak as you sleep, it's keeping me awake <br> It's the house telling you to close your eyes.''

(Okay, really the whole song)

[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xHOBeq6fFNI Can't Go Wrong - Philip Philips]

''I can't go wrong, as long as I remember where I'm from, <br>Hold my head up just to keep it clear, <br> I want a chance just to face my fear, face my fear, <br> Nevermind all the times I just couldn't wait, <br> I cant remember when it all began to change, <br> Watching the grass grow and die from summer to fall, <br> It's funny how the year passes by and you don't notice at all, <br> I know, I know.''

[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=By7ctqcWxyM Pieces - Sum 41]

''This place is so empty, <br> My thoughts are so tempting, <br> I don’t know how it got so bad, <br> Sometimes it’s so crazy, <br> That nothing can save me,<br>But it’s the only thing that I have.''

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zx5tSmOY_iM The Limousines - Internet Killed The Video Star]

''Well I'm a horrible dancer I ain't gonna lie, <br> But I'll be damned if that means that I ain't gonna try, <br> Yeah I'm a shitty romancer baby I ain't gonna lie, <br> But I'll be damned if that means that I ain't gonna try''

== RP Logs ==

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

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

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

{{Icons}}

{{HRW}}

[[category:Characters]]
[[category:High Reaches Weyr]]
[[category:High Reaches Area]]
[[category:Greater Pern]]

Sabella

2013-05-22T22:50:41Z

Zian:

{{HrwProfile
|picture=Sabs46.jpg
|position=Weyrling
|craft=
|birthplace=Crom Hold
|mother= Islana
|father= Who?
|siblings= Too many.
|friends=
|children= None.
|playedby= Shailene Woodley
|livejournal=
}}

== Description ==

Sabella isn’t what a person would call typically beautiful, but she has a certain quirky appeal that’s certainly attractive. She’s of average height with a slender build and the appropriate curves, but by no means actually curvy. Her hair is a long, sweeping voluminous affair that goes past her shoulders, a bright, shiny chestnut in color. With a delicate, heart shaped face her mouth is soft with a full lips and her nose is a touch too long and straight. Straight eyebrows are drawn across wide green eyes, almond shaped and pulling up just slightly at the corners.

She’s a well dressed girl, not because her clothes are expensive but because she has style. On any given day, she’s rocking a certain bohemian fashion. Her skirts are long and flowing (or short with leggings) and her shirts are billowy and worn with plain jackets, just thick enough to keep out the chill but not to be bulky. The boots she loves to wear are heeled, dark black leather with laces that run up to her knees.

== WYSK ==

Originally from the general area of Crom Hold.

Was a hairdresser to the Lady of Greenfield Hold.

Now a weyrling at High Reaches Weyr.

== History ==

Sabella is from the Crom region, hailing from a dubious background. If questioned hard about her upbringing she'd likely say she was from some small holding in the area, raised by her parents of moderate means. In truth, she's just another youth from a crappy family that didn't have much of anything and didn’t do much of anything for her either. She learned to pick pockets and steal in order to survive her hand to mouth existence. It helped that she had a sweet, innocent face and a penchant for telling a good lie well. And if she’s had to resort to any other means, she’s not going to willfully volunteer that kind of information. If she volunteers any of the above at all.

Around the time she was fifteen, she was initiated into a rougher gang of nefarious criminals. While running with them she was able to polish her skills and raise her standard of living somewhat. Nearing age nineteen, her group was able to find job placement for her at Greenfields Hold, attending to the Lady's hair issues. Her job was simple, work her confidence and feed any valuable intel she might hear back to the group.

With the double-clutch at High Reaches she found herself being swept away by a rider from there and set down as a candidate. Whether she was searched “on purpose” or as a natural turn of events, she’s not likely to say. However one thing is sure, in Turn 31, Sabella impressed green Ghislaith.

When asked about her life before coming to the Weyr, Sabs is proficient at eluding the difficult questions and giving responses that don't answer much of anything or ultimately reveal nothing that's particularly exciting.

== Relationships ==

*[[Alida]]: Hostile. Overly self-confident. Possibly crazy.
*[[E'sren]]: There's no way that this is going to end up anywhere other than bad-awesome. We're going to spend the night locked up in a cell together. It'll be great.
*[[Jo]]: Badass. Totally my unofficial mentor and way cooler than the actual one I got assigned with. A fifty-something brownrder? Ugh.
*[[K'zin]] Much more doggedly determined in some things than I thought. Also a lot harder to avoid than anticipated.
*[[N'ky]]: Sweet. He's really a good friend to K'zin, I can respect that about him.
*[[N'hax]]: Talented. What is he doing here with the rest of us?

== Supposedly Humorous Ghislaith Observations ==

Just some of my own "funny" observations of other dragon's from Ghislaith's perspective. Doesn't matter if she's "met" them on-camera or not. Not everyone is represented either. Not to be taken seriously. ;)

'''Ahruth:''' I knew that I should have built a garage.

'''Rasavyth:''' Spiders. Now I need to hire an exterminator.

'''Tacuseth:''' Great, there’s a bunch of people outside.

'''Rojeth:''' Why is the weather here so shitty?

'''Hraedhyth:''' I’m glad a I got fire coverage on my homeowners.

'''Iesaryth:''' Does that cover floods too? Better check.

'''Solith:''' It’s drafty in here, I should close the windows.

'''Cadejoth''': If that dog walks mud into this house one more time…

'''Oswinth:''' Ugh, can’t the Universe just stop expanding already?

== Soundtrack ==

[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ghb6eDopW8I Little Talks - Of Monsters and Men]

''Hey! Hey! Hey! <br> I don't like walking around this old and empty house <br> So hold my hand, I'll walk with you, my dear <br> The stairs creak as you sleep, it's keeping me awake <br> It's the house telling you to close your eyes.''

(Okay, really the whole song)

[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xHOBeq6fFNI Can't Go Wrong - Philip Philips]

''I can't go wrong, as long as I remember where I'm from, <br>Hold my head up just to keep it clear, <br> I want a chance just to face my fear, face my fear, <br> Nevermind all the times I just couldn't wait, <br> I cant remember when it all began to change, <br> Watching the grass grow and die from summer to fall, <br> It's funny how the year passes by and you don't notice at all, <br> I know, I know.''

[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=By7ctqcWxyM Pieces - Sum 41]

''This place is so empty, <br> My thoughts are so tempting, <br> I don’t know how it got so bad, <br> Sometimes it’s so crazy, <br> That nothing can save me,<br>But it’s the only thing that I have.''

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zx5tSmOY_iM The Limousines - Internet Killed The Video Star]

''Well I'm a horrible dancer I ain't gonna lie, <br> But I'll be damned if that means that I ain't gonna try, <br> Yeah I'm a shitty romancer baby I ain't gonna lie, <br> But I'll be damned if that means that I ain't gonna try''

== RP Logs ==

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

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

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

{{Icons}}

{{HRW}}

[[category:Characters]]
[[category:High Reaches Weyr]]
[[category:High Reaches Area]]
[[category:Greater Pern]]

Sabella

2013-05-22T22:49:40Z

Zian:

{{HrwProfile
|picture=Sabs46.jpg
|position=Weyrling
|craft=
|birthplace=Crom Hold
|mother= Islana
|father= Who?
|siblings= Too many.
|friends=
|children= None.
|playedby= Shailene Woodley
|livejournal=
}}

== Description ==

Sabella isn’t what a person would call typically beautiful, but she has a certain quirky appeal that’s certainly attractive. She’s of average height with a slender build and the appropriate curves, but by no means actually curvy. Her hair is a long, sweeping voluminous affair that goes past her shoulders, a bright, shiny chestnut in color. With a delicate, heart shaped face her mouth is soft with a full lips and her nose is a touch too long and straight. Straight eyebrows are drawn across wide green eyes, almond shaped and pulling up just slightly at the corners.

She’s a well dressed girl, not because her clothes are expensive but because she has style. On any given day, she’s rocking a certain bohemian fashion. Her skirts are long and flowing (or short with leggings) and her shirts are billowy and worn with plain jackets, just thick enough to keep out the chill but not to be bulky. The boots she loves to wear are heeled, dark black leather with laces that run up to her knees.

== WYSK ==

Originally from the general area of Crom Hold.

Was a hairdresser to the Lady of Greenfield Hold.

Now a weyrling at High Reaches Weyr.

== History ==

Sabella is from the Crom region, hailing from a dubious background. If questioned hard about her upbringing she'd likely say she was from some small holding in the area, raised by her parents of moderate means. In truth, she's just another youth from a crappy family that didn't have much of anything and didn’t do much of anything for her either. She learned to pick pockets and steal in order to survive her hand to mouth existence. It helped that she had a sweet, innocent face and a penchant for telling a good lie well. And if she’s had to resort to any other means, she’s not going to willfully volunteer that kind of information. If she volunteers any of the above at all.

Around the time she was fifteen, she was initiated into a rougher gang of nefarious criminals. While running with them she was able to polish her skills and raise her standard of living somewhat. Nearing age nineteen, her group was able to find job placement for her at Greenfields Hold, attending to the Lady's hair issues. Her job was simple, work her confidence and feed any valuable intel she might hear back to the group.

With the double-clutch at High Reaches she found herself being swept away by a rider from there and set down as a candidate. Whether she was searched “on purpose” or as a natural turn of events, she’s not likely to say. However one thing is sure, in Turn 31, Sabella impressed green Ghislaith.

When asked about her life before coming to the Weyr, Sabs is proficient at eluding the difficult questions and giving responses that don't answer much of anything or ultimately reveal nothing that's particularly exciting.

== Relationships ==

*[[Alida]]: Hostile. Overly self-confident. Possibly crazy.
*[[E'sren]]: There's no way that this is going to end up anywhere other than bad-awesome. We're going to spend the night locked up in a cell together. It'll be great.
*[[Jo]]: Badass. Totally my unofficial mentor and way cooler than the actual one I got assigned with. A fifty-something brownrder? Ugh.
*[[K'zin]] Much more doggedly determined in some things than I thought. Also a lot harder to avoid than anticipated.
*[[N'ky]]: Sweet. He's really a good friend to K'zin, I can respect that about him.
*[[N'hax]]: Talented. What is he doing here with the rest of us?

== Supposedly Humorous Ghislaith Observations ==

Just some of my own "funny" observations of other dragon's from Ghislaith's perspective. Doesn't matter if she's "met" them on-camera or not. Not everyone is represented either. Not to be taken seriously. ;)

'''Ahruth:''' I knew that I should have built a garage.
'''Rasavyth:''' Spiders. Now I need to hire an exterminator.
'''Tacuseth:''' Great, there’s a bunch of people outside.
'''Rojeth:''' Why is the weather here so shitty?
'''Hraedhyth:''' I’m glad a I got fire coverage on my homeowners.
'''Iesaryth:''' Does that cover floods too? Better check.
'''Solith:''' It’s drafty in here, I should close the windows.
'''Cadejoth''': If that dog walks mud into this house one more time…
'''Oswinth:''' Ugh, can’t the Universe just stop expanding already?

== Soundtrack ==

[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ghb6eDopW8I Little Talks - Of Monsters and Men]

''Hey! Hey! Hey! <br> I don't like walking around this old and empty house <br> So hold my hand, I'll walk with you, my dear <br> The stairs creak as you sleep, it's keeping me awake <br> It's the house telling you to close your eyes.''

(Okay, really the whole song)

[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xHOBeq6fFNI Can't Go Wrong - Philip Philips]

''I can't go wrong, as long as I remember where I'm from, <br>Hold my head up just to keep it clear, <br> I want a chance just to face my fear, face my fear, <br> Nevermind all the times I just couldn't wait, <br> I cant remember when it all began to change, <br> Watching the grass grow and die from summer to fall, <br> It's funny how the year passes by and you don't notice at all, <br> I know, I know.''

[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=By7ctqcWxyM Pieces - Sum 41]

''This place is so empty, <br> My thoughts are so tempting, <br> I don’t know how it got so bad, <br> Sometimes it’s so crazy, <br> That nothing can save me,<br>But it’s the only thing that I have.''

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zx5tSmOY_iM The Limousines - Internet Killed The Video Star]

''Well I'm a horrible dancer I ain't gonna lie, <br> But I'll be damned if that means that I ain't gonna try, <br> Yeah I'm a shitty romancer baby I ain't gonna lie, <br> But I'll be damned if that means that I ain't gonna try''

== RP Logs ==

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

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

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

{{Icons}}

{{HRW}}

[[category:Characters]]
[[category:High Reaches Weyr]]
[[category:High Reaches Area]]
[[category:Greater Pern]]