Logs:Bribes and Inquiry - Revision history

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Kaleidoscope at 00:48, 28 January 2015

2015-01-28T00:48:43Z

Bot at 08:07, 5 July 2014

2014-07-05T08:07:24Z

Bot at 07:06, 5 July 2014

2014-07-05T07:06:52Z

Squishy at 11:01, 29 January 2014

2014-01-29T11:01:52Z

H'kon: Oh, and dragon speak.

2014-01-12T16:01:23Z

Oh, and dragon speak.

H'kon: Icon...

2014-01-12T15:57:10Z

Icon...

Squishy at 02:52, 11 January 2014

2014-01-11T02:52:28Z

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 {{Log
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 |who = A'rist, Edyis, A'rist{{!}}Lythronath

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 {{Log
-| who = A'rist, Edyis, A'rist{{!}}Lythronath
+|type=Log
 | where = Western Bowl, High Reaches Weyr
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 | who = A'rist, Edyis, A'rist{{!}}Lythronath
 | where = Western Bowl, High Reaches Weyr

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 | what =
 | when = D8 M10 T33, Autumn Evening
 | gamedate = 2014.01.10
 | quote =

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 "Nope." And even if he's not really got anywhere to go, A'rist turns with that, and sets to messing with his dragon's straps.
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 | mentions = D'kan
 | ooc =
-| icons = a'rist strange.jpg, a'rist lynner hereslynny.jpg
+| icons = a'rist strange.jpg, a'rist lynner hereslynny.jpg, edyis polite wtf.jpg
 | log =Western Bowl, High Reaches Weyr<br>
 The bowl's vast dirt floor extends in a rough oval from west to east, only sparse clumps of grass surviving between the crisscrossed pathways of daily traffic. To the northwest stand massive gates to the world beyond, allowing people, livestock, and tithes to pass beneath some of the seven jagged spires that stand sentinel over that area of the bowl. In late afternoons, their spindly, fingerlike shadows stretch over that end of the bowl all the way to the living cavern's hulking brass doors in the far north.

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 | mentions = D'kan
 | ooc =
-| icons = a'rist strange.jpg
+| icons = a'rist strange.jpg, a'rist lynner hereslynny.jpg
 | log =Western Bowl, High Reaches Weyr<br>
 The bowl's vast dirt floor extends in a rough oval from west to east, only sparse clumps of grass surviving between the crisscrossed pathways of daily traffic. To the northwest stand massive gates to the world beyond, allowing people, livestock, and tithes to pass beneath some of the seven jagged spires that stand sentinel over that area of the bowl. In late afternoons, their spindly, fingerlike shadows stretch over that end of the bowl all the way to the living cavern's hulking brass doors in the far north.
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 Lythronath sniffs a time or two more, and then announces his decision in a snort. There might be some snot in that. But it would be fine, and misty, and despite occurring overtop of A'rist's head, apparently isn't enough to make that sandwich less appetising. This time, though, the bite might be an attempt to gather his thoughts as his cheeks flush for her question. Once he's dealt with that mouthful, "I don't know, he reacts to pretty much everything that goes on, some way or other." The bronzerider shrugs, feigns nonchalance. "He likes flaming," is said with a wickedly sharp smile.
 "Most men do." She comments on flaming with a touch of irony. "The question becomes one of controling it." That flush is probably noted as well somewhere in those pages. Her pulse slows considerably after the snort, and her breathing slows as well. Maybe she can do this living in a Weyr thing. "Has he ever had to deal with a serious injury beyond the aches of normal duty?" She asks filling in a few more lines to her sketch.
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 This time, it's A'rist who snorts. Lythronath has gotten bored again, and is staring down a blue who has landed... well, not close, but certainly within staring distance. ''Blues.'' "Since when did tough have anything to do with doing dishes? I've got a big, bronze dragon that belches ''fire.''" It prompts a bob of Lythronath's head, but... he might just be calling out his newfound adversary. "I'll keep that in mind, too," A'rist promises. Bribes.
 The blue is noted as is Lythronath's reaction, but she snaps the journal closed around the charcoal stick after reviewing her notes a moment. "I meant having scorching hot klah run over the sides of your cup and hand. I assume because you impressed that fire breathing giant, you are now allergic to dishes and various other types of chores." It seems a sound theory from the way the edges of her lips curl, "Keep in mind that larger bribes may require juicer information. In all seriousness though, what's your favorite part out of all of it now?"
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 "I was teasing you." She points out with a gentle smile, but he's sparked her curiosity again, "Actually I do." She admits frankly, biting her lower lip a bit. "But if you don't ''want'' to say, that's your choice naturally."
 A'rist hefts that box, and this time does think to take out a pastry, and inspect it. "I think for that you're gonna have to bring me more than just some sandwiches and pies." It's almost suave, the delivery, almost wholly confident. It's that last bit of guardedness that ruins it. But he bites into that pastry, all grins around it. Challenge: given.

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	Eastward, the bowl sprawls on toward the lake, sloping slightly downward to allow runoff from rain and snowmelt, but to the south it's caged by more cliffs of dark, rough-cut granite. Rocks poke up from the ground here, a few large boulders and many smaller outcroppings worn smooth in spots by time and use. A few ground weyr entrances dot the wall, the most frequented ledge set up like a patio while the largest ledge services the Weyrleaders' complex, directly beside the huge entrance to the hatching sands. A more human-sized entrance, left of that, leads to the galleries.		Eastward, the bowl sprawls on toward the lake, sloping slightly downward to allow runoff from rain and snowmelt, but to the south it's caged by more cliffs of dark, rough-cut granite. Rocks poke up from the ground here, a few large boulders and many smaller outcroppings worn smooth in spots by time and use. A few ground weyr entrances dot the wall, the most frequented ledge set up like a patio while the largest ledge services the Weyrleaders' complex, directly beside the huge entrance to the hatching sands. A more human-sized entrance, left of that, leads to the galleries.
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	The bowl is always busy around supper time; people get hungry, riders come down from weyrs, crafters move from complex to cavern... There's a hubbub, but not so much around Lythronath. Most of the dragons (foolish, oxidised greens aside) know well enough to give him space when he's being made to wait against his will. It could be the general vibe from those dragons giving him space on the bowl, or it could just be the grim look on A'rist's face as he leans against his lifemate's forelimb. But somehow, they've managed to get themselves some space, even at this time of day.		The bowl is always busy around supper time; people get hungry, riders come down from weyrs, crafters move from complex to cavern... There's a hubbub, but not so much around Lythronath. Most of the dragons (foolish, oxidised greens aside) know well enough to give him space when he's being made to wait against his will. It could be the general vibe from those dragons giving him space on the bowl, or it could just be the grim look on A'rist's face as he leans against his lifemate's forelimb. But somehow, they've managed to get themselves some space, even at this time of day.