Difference between revisions of "Logs:Trying Hard"

Eastern Bowl, High Reaches Weyr

Ringed by rough granite walls to all sides but one, this end of the huge bowl narrows from the even broader plain to the west, continuing the ever so slight downward slope toward the blue and green of the Weyr's lake and surrounding foliage. More open to sun and wind than the western bowl, but less frequented when there aren't weyrlings in residence, the bowl's grassy tufts keep the topsoil in place and thicken into a bloodstained meadow within the feeding pens that adjoin the lake.

At the base of the surrounding cliffs lie entrances to several caverns, including the dragon infirmary and the weyrling barracks: the former to the northwest near where the spires begin, the latter opposite to the southwest. Both archways are large and dark enough for any dragon to pass through, but it's the infirmary's that is haunted by faint smells of redwort and numbweed, as though over generations they have seeped into the very stone. To the southeast, between the weyrling area and the lake, there are a handful of structures built into the floor of the bowl, standing out amidst otherwise an empty space.

A spring flurry brings in a little late snowfall, though there is no accumulation as the flakes spiral to the ground on a dizzying breeze.

Where snow is nothing special in winter in Reaches with so much of it stacked in the bowl and elsewhere, now that it's spring, a flurry means excitement. The fact that it's not sticking probably helps the mood; something pretty to look at but not to slog through. Mud is nothing new what with spring rains. Rasavyth, ever interested in the new pairings, has been a watchful presence in the bowl since the hatching, observing from a distance, his mindtouch nothing more than a barely discernable shimmer. He's been seen time enough in company with Solith when she and Telavi are on duty in the barracks, too. He's there now, but so, too, is his rider this time, unloading a picnic basket (lunch time!) from the bronze's finely made riding straps that are a dark near-black shade to set off against his burnt cinnabar hide.

Flurries of snow melt against Zmeyth's hide as he lumbers out of the barracks, freshly bath and oiled. V'ros walks in his wake, wearing a thick, wool cap over his recently shaven head, and his usual dark blue overcoat. They're a sight to see - the dragon, lifting his head to peruse the sky, and the weyrling looking annoyed by this recent turn of events. It's quite a surprise to see the bronze pair, if V'ros's scowl is any indication, but he does the proper greeting of a sharp, "Hello, sir," and a salute. But no amount of training could wipe away that unsatisfied expression.

"Still just K'zin," the bronzerider offers back to the once-holder, his smile congenial as he starts moving in the pair's direction. "Nice day for a snow shower, huh?" Either he's really very oblivious or he's willfully ignoring V'ros' less-than-pleased expression. Rasavyth's eyes follow Zmeyth's progress and today, there's a testing pressure against the weyrling's mind. The pressure comes with a subtle feeling of something oozing nearer, charm carried with it and perhaps visible in the nearly invisible force in the few places that there's a faint shimmer that appears and vanishes at irregular intervals within the bronze's mental presence.

"Still just K'zin, sir," V'ros replies back with a meaningful look, "Quinlys would have my ass." It's shockingly unlike the usually awkward weyrling - both the sarcasm and the crassness. Perhaps dragons do change people overnight. As for the snow shower, well, he looks more displeased than before. "Training is harder in the snow, so.. no." He moves to huddle closer to Zmeyth, to use those dark, wide wings for protection against the icy onslaught. Zmeyth is standoffish, letting the pressure come to him and not relenting under the charm or the sensation; he's just a wall of smoke, immaterial, dark, and unmoving.

"Nah, she'd be totally fine with you disrespecting me. I'm an ass, just ask her. But an ass that sends good whiskey to apologize." K'zin grins at the weyrling. "Cheer up," the bronzerider offers after a beat, "At least you'll be learning to fly in summer. Or fall. But before the snow. Like we did. Our class. Telavi's and mine. Ours hatched on the first of the fourth month." As if all that should help clarify. Rasavyth is fine with that wall. In point of fact, the longer he observes the wall the more exact the mirror image that rises in his touch becomes perfected. The only sign after some moments that Zmeyth isn't looking right back at himself is the slim layer of occasionally shimmering ooze and that natural charm that comes whispering softly along... oh, and that edge of wrongness. It's there at the farthest horizon of his touch and so subtle. Something just not right about it.

Snow can be fun, at least the shimmery blue making his way from the feeding pens seems to think so, even more so if there are greens involved, which at this particular juncture seems not to be the case. Walking astride him under a half spread wing that serves as a nice umbrella from the snow, is his rider - "She'd probably also have your hide if she heard you swearing, while still in training, but your milage may vary." She calls as they make their way over. "K'zin, are you already corrupting the youth?" She calls over to her wingmate, with a distinctly mischievous smile.

Cheer up? He's asking a naturally unhappy barely-not-a-teenager to cheer up? Obviously, V'ros gives him that unperturbed, blank stare most kids are so good at. "Good for you," he intones blandly, completely unmoved by the conversation. He's all set to head back to the barracks, brown dragon or not, but then another dragon and rider show up. An eye roll can be nearly felt, though it doesn't happen, and he stares impassively ahead, his jaw set. Impression hasn't improved his temper, if anything. Zmeyth turns towards the incoming blue, observing with a casual eye, but his mind voice.. oh, the edges of his own smoke wall start to curl, a crackle in the background. Someone is getting annoyed with the mimicry.

Wingmate, yes, though largely absentee wingmate. K'zin was in Fort as clutchsire when Ghena joined Taiga, and from there in Telgar for his extended stay after Rasavyth's crash, a stay that ended only when Hraedhyth rose to mate. Since then, given Rasavyth's subsequent wing strain and still not being fully recovered from the dislocated shoulder and wingsail tears, he's been in attendance at wing functions but is largely just F'manis' paper-pusher for the moment and that hasn't made him terribly inclined to do things like dine at the Taiga table or socialize much with the riders in general. Still despite his general stand-offishness with the other members of Taiga, his answer to the approaching bluerider is friendly enough and with humor, "What are bronzeriders for, if not corruption?" Rasavyth responds to the annoyance of the brown by letting the illusion fade. Now his soft tenor comes directly. « What do you like, if not those things which comprise you? » The words come as nearly a purr. He includes the young dragon in his sociable reach toward Knioth, letting him see that now Rasavyth shows banners and metal glinting in the sunshine just for the blue. « Greetings, Knioth. Does the day find you well? » Cordial, pleasant, friendly ... and still wrong. Just at the very edge. Just a little.

« The day doth find me well, though wanting for good company. » Exactly how close the blue comes to the little brown to inspect, probably falls entirely upon how comfortable the brown is, but the cursory sniff of the air suggests at least curiosity. The slow rumble of marching feet, can be heard in the brassy timbre of his mindvoice encroaching upon the edges of the whirling smoke. The shimmer of iron is appreciated refracting light upon the glimmer of the bronzes own mindscape. Ghena far more plainspoken shrugs - "I usually figure they are good for assigning more drills when I feck up, but that could be personal bias. What have you been up to these days?"

V'ros is happy enough to huddle near his dragon, completely ignoring the situation he's landed himself in - stuck between three dragons and two dragonriders. Zmeyth watches the blue's approach with stoic calm, unmoving, like a fortress for his weyrling to hide behind. Smoke continues to curl, his baritone rough and brusque. « What's it to you, what I like? » Openly suspicious, conscious weighing the words, and for the blue, nothing more than a haze of smoke, the heat of a dying fire.

"Has Wingsecond K'del-" Not Weyrleader, "-been giving you a lot in the way of extra drills?" K'zin directs to his wingmate, brow furrowed. "I always thought that's what blueriders were good for." He offers with a grin. Blueriders like F'manis, for example. That V'ros has opted out of the conversation doesn't seem to bother K'zin who shifts his picnic basket from one arm to the next. "Oh, you know, playing errand boy for a certain attractive greenrider that hangs out here." He probably does not mean Ghena's greenriding brother who's assisting but not an assistant with the weyrlings. « If I'm to speak with someone, I far prefer it to be pleasant so I'd rather show you what you like than what you don't. » Simple, fairly direct. Nothing suspicious there. Nothing but the inevitable wrongness. To Knioth, he directs, « Ekoth looks to be near rising, if you're looking for good company. » Of the glowy variety. He's nothing if not helpful.

Ghena sulks, "Now don't go giving young riders a bad impression of us blueriders, I'll never get any respect around here! The complaint is more joke than actual concern. She does catch that eyeroll however. Thankfully for Vros she seems to be distracted by her blue for a moment. Or teaching them the incorrect forms of address, Its Weyrleader Kdel now, Officially. Any other thought on the subject is left out. Knioth seems to sniff the brown once more, like a canine inspecting a pup before snorting and sharing his thoughts of glowing green forms wheeling through the sky with his compatriots as the horns of battle are sounded. « Is that so? I shall have to pay my respects to the sweet lady and gain her favor before that time. » Or battle his way to catch her in the air, the idea has the bluerider half distracted mid sentence.

Weyrleaders and attractive greenriders - neither of which V'ros has any interest in. He gives both dragonriders one last, lingering look that holds something akin to disbelief in it, before he's turning around and shuffling back to the warmth and safety of the barracks. Zmeyth stays a little longer, assessing the bronze and blue dragons, the haze of smoke hovering on the outskirts. « Don't try so hard. » It's a departing shot, a crackle and then he, too, turns tail and heads back to the barracks.

"He's Wingsecond K'del in Taiga. I'm sure you know that." K'zin corrects the correction. "After all, we can't have our wingsecond bossing around our wingleader at drills just because he's his boss." Not that K'del has been attending many Taiga drills lately. Overall it does seem to be some manner of commentary on the hierarchical quandary Taiga has been in for about two turns now. It must be sort of a running joke by now, mustn't it? The bronzerider doesn't seem to notice V'ros' departure, but his dragon... Rasavyth's shimmers brighten with amusement. « Such assumptions. » He muses of the young brown's last remark. To Knioth, he adds wryly, « If that was me trying hard, I'm not sure I'd manage to find my way out of my couch each morning. » Evidently, he considers aiming to please elementary. Then it's back to the matter of Ekoth, « And so you should. She's one of the better greens, » in his illustrious opinion. K'zin must be oblivious to the topic of conversation because he's raising his basket a little to indicate it. "I'd better bring Telavi her lunch before she eats a weyrling." His impish smile shows his dimples before departing for the training cavern. Surely this is an appropriate thing for a boyfriend to say about his girlfriend!

Taiga's quandary must be something that causes her head to hurt because her eyes may cross a tad. She grins, "Say Hi to Telavi for me. She's got her hands full with this bunch." At least if the departing pair were anything to go by. As for Knioth the deep rumble in his chest must be the equivalent of draconic laughter. « Indeed, but these, they will learn eventually. » At least Knioth hopes so before launching himself into the air to head back to the feeding grounds and Ekoth. "Knioth NOT AGAIN!!" Ghena states by means of farewell as she's bolting after the blue who seems to have the ladies on his mind.