Difference between revisions of "Logs:Keeping Company"

Hatching Galleries, High Reaches Weyr

Ringing the southwestern side of the hatching sands are ample tiers of carved stone benches, the lowest of which is some six feet off the ground -- just high enough to separate wayward hatchlings from unwary viewers, and vice versa. A metal railing on the outside helps prevent anyone from falling off; it also extends up the stairs that lead the way higher into the galleries. While most of the area is open seating, ropes section off some of the closer tiers when dignitaries are expected; those areas even feature cushions in the Weyr's blue and black.

The higher one climbs, the more apparent the immense scale of the entire cavern becomes. The dragon-sized entrance on the ground is dwarfed by the expansive golden sands that glitter in the light. Everything on them is easily visible from the galleries, whether that's a clutch of eggs and a broody queen, or simply its emptiness and the handful of darker tunnels that lead to more private areas than the bowl. Wherever one sits or looks, however, one thing is constant: the overwhelming, suffocating heat.

A certain bluerider of the overheated and irked persuasion stands near the railing of the Galleries, Alida leaning over the stony lip of protection as she pointedly stares down at something upon the golden sands of the grounds. She's currently dressed in riding pants and a long sleeved, winter shirt that's got said sleeves rolled up tightly to her biceps, while her jacket is tossed carlessly over the lowest tier of stony benches behind her. On the Sands themself stands a gritty blue dragon, Ilicaeth's blocky form likewise peering down with blue eyes flecked with the occasional hint of orange at some scene that isn't really noticeable at any distance. Occasionally, a small hiss is heard.

Azaylia is blown in by the icy wind of the afternoon, flakes melting all too quickly when faced with the heat of the hatching cavern. It has her shedding her midnight cloak, revealing a dress of bright 'Reachian blue, black leggings keeping long limbs warm. The Weyrwoman is slow in her approach, not that she bothers to hide her footfalls, walking along the edge of the sand with a curious gaze for Ilicaeth. Alida earns a tired though genuine smile, "I didn't realize Ilicaeth was due to clutch. And so close to Hraedhyth's."

Dragon hearing is somewhat better than the best human hearing, so Ilicaeth is the first to turn his head, the blue cocking it slightly as he spies Azaylia, then softly warbling a mellow greeting to the woman before he refocuses back on those Sands before him. Alida's head quickly enough turns, and finally she too can see and hear Zay's form swim out of the waves of heat shimmering within the huge cavern. Noted with dry humor mixed with a certain irascability, "He promises he'll stay outta' her way." Pause...smirk. "Only problem now is, how he's gonna poot out those eggs." Snert. She's not speaking loudly at all, the blonde letting the echo-iness of the area carry her clipped tones to the Weyrwoman. Noted more seriously to the other woman, "Stay close ta 'Caeth. Pyrite's down there, an' she's havin' a hissy fit over 'er damned eggs."

"Ilicaeth." An almost too-sweet greeting, or it would be if she could put more energy behind the coo. The sands are familiar, and even as a light sheen of sweat already appears on her brow, Azaylia's curiosity brings her closer. "I think Ilicaeth could survive, if he had to." Soft tones hold obvious amusement, her hand reaching to stroke along the blue's muzzle, if he'll let her. The goldrider keeps a distance, though her eyes scan the sandy scene before flicking up to Alida, "Do you know why?"

The burly, sometimes gruff blue is more-than-pleased to have Azaylia petting him as he tries to 'talk' some sense into the dark-sunflower gold firelizard about 15 feet away from his big head. While Ilicaeth's inner eyelids close some in satisfaction and his muzzle noses back quite gently into the dark woman's touch, he rumbles quite softly, his tail giving the occasional twitch near its terminus. As for Alida, "He doesn't think he'd be the doting momma type...but ya never know." Smirkie. For a long moment, both women are likely silent as they observe the wee gold down there - snugged right up next to the wall - her pudgy form pacing back and forth in front of the tight semi-circle the mounds of her eggs describe within their protective coat of sand. With a sudden sigh, the bluerider pushes slowly off the railing, and soon steps down to join her dragon and the goldrider on those torrid sands, while she murmurs thoughtfully, "Maybe had somethin' ta do with that wherry down South. She started clutching on some beach...and a wherry attack drove 'er ta dig inta' the sand with one egg." A look of mixed irateness and compassion for the little flit makes it back over to Azaylia, 'lida's mouth twisted slightly. "Once all uv us took it out, we found she'd disappeared. Didn' find out she'd Betweened back home 'n sought refuge *here* until a seven later." Eyeroll.

The heat of the sands is something Azaylia has learned to tolerate, and she does so while delivering steady strokes to Ilicaeth's hide. "Some would say Hraedhyth isn't, but..." In her own, ferocious way, the gold is absolutely maternal. The reason behind the flit's decision on where to clutch has the goldrider frowning, sympathy reflected in her dark eyes. "She's alright? The rest of the clutch?" Despite the 'lizard's aggrivated pacing. As if it's a concern, "I'm certainly not going to upset her more by moving them. Hraedhyth, either."

There's a quick shake of Alida's pale head to Zay's first words, and her lips tip into a faint smile at thought of Hraedhyth. "I'm really startin' ta think 'maternal' is more a range uv' feelings 'n actions. Hrae's fierce, but she knows how ta take care uv' 'er own... just like guard dog with a litter." For just a moment, the former-guard suddenly looks a little aghast at comparing a dragon to a canine, but the blonde just as quickly presents her typical 'take-it-or-leave-it' expression. To *her*, it's not a snub at all. To cover it, 'lida quickly notes, "Yeah, she's fine...except for the shock it gave her. She's just extra-wary, now, I guess." As the women talk and Ilicaeth work his dragony wonders on the pacing firelizard, Pyrite seems to slowly calm down, her eyes whirling from orange to yellow, which is now flecked with hints of lavender and blue. Slow and steady, Ilicaeth. Alida's hand, too, lifts out to brush casual fingers against her blue's nearby chin, the dragon giving a faint chuff while his rider comments, "Sire is - er, Mime's - takin' care uv' the rogue egg down south. S'why he isn't helpin' as much with the main clutch, I guess." Grin. "Little squirt's a decent daddy. Surprising." A small look of relief touches the blonde's mouth with Zay's assertions about the little pile of eggs and the fluttery-winged firelizard, the bluie nodding her thanks. "Thanks, Zay; I wasn't relishin' havin' ta go another round with 'er again over 'em..." A pat of the scabbed-over and healing gouges on one forearm might speak of battles lost.

Alida's draconic faux pas is met with the faint lift of Azaylia's brows, lips pursed with amusement as the moment passes. One shouldn't compare dragons to canines, not that the Weyrwoman seems to have taken any offense. Hraedhyth is too wrapped up in her injured mate to pay much mind, even second-hand. "Mime?" She echoes, unfamiliar. "Glad that the little egg isn't abandoned, at least." Alida's gratitude is met with a little shake of her head, "It makes sense. She needed warm sand." Azaylia looks surprised by those injuries, hand abandoning Ilicaeth in order to hover over Alida's forearm. "Well... not to worry. I won't be sending you over to face the great beast." A soft laugh, and she lets her arm drop.

The only give Alida will allow to Azaylia's small brow lift is a quiet, "I like animals..and dragon-types." A sudden, slightly harder look flashes in her eyes before the woman amends, "Most uv' 'em, anyway. Me 'n 'caeth respect Hrae." Nod. "Mhm. Jo's bronze." Perhaps both blue and his rider respect Zay, as well, for the other woman's hovering over her injured forearm produces no withdrawl or nose-wrinkle from Alida, and a faint thrum from Ilicaeth's throat. The often-cool blonde even manages to grin some at the other rider's words of her flit. "I think there's little more dangerous than a mother with threatened babies. Well, maybe a berserk dragon... 'r me." To his lifemate's last words, Ilicaeth gives a huffy little rumble.

"So do I." Azaylia offers, perhaps as an explanation for the lack of insult. Her eyes flick up to Alida, small smile brightening some. "Thank you. We appreciate it." Their respect. Tired, subdued, the Weyrwoman can still maintain her sense of humor as an arm moves to hook into the bluerider's. "I think I'll risk the danger and steal you for a drink?" An easy invitation, one that Alida is free to refuse.

"That's right... I fer'got you were a Beastcrafter before..." Before Hraedyth claimed her first 'victim' of love. A slightly more easy grin quirks Alida's lips, even settles in her often calculating gaze when Azaylia not only understands, but actually moves to draw the often-withdrawn bluerider into her warm little circle. "Yer sure you wanna be seen with a cu... bitch like me? Could ruin yer sweet reputation..." She's all too happy to leave Pyrite to her fussing, and Ilicaeth to calming the little squirt back to a better state of mind. Though... "Ilicaeth says we gotta' buy him a round, too. He's doin' all the work." Her free hand claps briskly at her lifemate's jaw in easy comraderie, bringing a small baring of teeth in a 'grin' from the blue.

"Alida..." Azaylia playfully scolds, "You do know the company I keep?" Hraedhyth. Bones. A good few riders in Glacier. And lately, Lythronath. "I don't know if my reputation is all that sweet." It might be, but if so the Weyrwoman doesn't seem bothered in keeping it that way. With her free hand, she reaches to run a hand along the top of Ilicaeth's muzzle, "I don't think even I have the marks for a dragon sized drink." But, "Hraedhyth and I do have some of her special oil left over." For Alida, "I'll give you some to take home." After drinks. The blue will get a few scritches before she's looking to rescue his rider from the heat of the sands with a gentle tug of her arm.

"Yessum'..." Alida notes with fake meekness, the blonde ducking her chin just a little, then noting impishly, "No! Who?" even as Ilicaeth presses his muzzle up to meet Zay's hand. Attention whore! The blonde suddenly chuckles low as she peers up into her dragon's nearest eye, then over at the Weyrwoman to comment, "He says 'You are *on*.' As long as it doesn't smell like Hana.'" Oh, how the stalwart blue's hide ripples and his tail and claws twitch and flex at those scritches, his outer eyelids starting to droop just a bit. As Zay tugs both women away, the bluie calls low over her shoulder - likely for Azaylia's benefit - "No oil fer *you* if ya' don't have 'er sleepin' by the time I get back." Chuff!

Azaylia isn't fooled by that fake submission, the very idea causing her to give a soft laugh. Now there might be some mild offense taken, rather protective of her assistant/hairstylis. "I happen to think Hana smells very nice." But she does reassure, "It's spicy. Hraedhyth's favorite, when she's proddy. From Igen." As for Ilicaeth, it looks as though it's out of Azaylia's hands, leaving him to take orders from his rider. With another laugh, as she leads them out into the cold, "Well there's Bones, of course..." The fact that the rest of her companions seem to be draconic in nature doesn't bother the goldrider. After an evening of sharing drinks, she's likely to add Alida to that list.