Difference between revisions of "Logs:Lost"

It's so late, it's early. Telavi isn't to the point of bumping off the walls, yet, but her usual stride is certainly less fluid now, further interrupted for not-so-occasional yawns; it can't help how she's carrying a boots-sized sack at arm's length, but then, the light towel-turban that her hair's done up in isn't a usual fashion accessory either. It also might not have been the wisest move to take a 'shortcut' from baths to Bowl.

Telavi certainly isn't the only late night (or early morning) wanderer: this is practically R'hin's normal hours, after all. Maybe her yawning is distracting enough that she doesn't hear the tell-tale scrape of boots, a subtle sound just before R'hin appears at her shoulder. His whispered, "Boo," holds his usual note of amused lightness.

She startles reflexively, and it's a near thing to dropping the sack-- which, it must be admitted, hasn't the most pleasant of smells. Tela turns reproachful eyes, eyes with smudges around them that have to do with tiredness instead of messed-up makeup, on her wingleader. "Why."

Habit means R'hin's hand snakes out to steady her, hand cupping her elbow, though his expression is, as probably expected, completely unapologetic. "Because I don't get to taunt you out in the field, those dastardly, needy weyrlings have you sequestered away." He tilts his head, and looks -- really looks at her, frowning. "Are you lost?" he asks, abruptly, like it's the most startling accusation in all of Pern.

Tela leans on that hand for once, too. "Sequestered. Yes. You'd think they were-- what? No." She isn't, is she? She looks at R'hin as though for confirmation, and then holds out the sack like it's for him.

R'hin eyes the sack, then eyes her, and -- perhaps surprisingly -- takes the sack without comment, in his other hand. The one under her elbow stays in place, as he guides her down the tunnel. He's quiet -- maybe he's waiting for her to finish that thought?

Tela tips her head to his shoulder, too, at least until it gets too bouncy what with the walking and all; she's also relinquishing guidance to where she walks. Eventually, "I'm glad you came back." Another footstep or two later, "You and Bristia and," she recounts some names but not others. She doesn't ask if he is.

Brows rise, first in surprise, before drawing down in concern. "They've really done a number on you. I'd best get you straight to bed, or the weyrlings will be walking all over you, thinking you're a push over. We can't have that," R'hin says, his tone fond as he glances sidelong at her.

He's right; "They have smelly feet," Telavi says sorrowfully. "And paws. And they make messes that make my feet, no, my boots smelly too. I could tell them to go over and wash five times a day and each time they would get messy or muddy or something five minutes later. I can't imagine Leiventh doing that. Did he do that, R'hin? He didn't, did he?"

R'hin clucks his tongue in sympathy, but it's hard to miss the laughter in the timbre of his voice. "Leiventh sprung from his egg fully grown. They were sure he was a gold before he hatched," nevermind the sire was a brown, "So we managed to avoid such... indignities."

"He did not, Telavi tells him, but a sleepier-- and even more audible-- form of that same laughter infuses that reply. "I'd like to think that he did, though. It would have been a very big egg. Almost bigger than the queen herself, wouldn't it be? It would hurt, a lot," she supposes. "Were all the others big like him or was he special then too?"

"Of course he did," R'hin insists, grinning. "You can't even imagine Leiventh bumbling around on the sands like some mewling kit, can you?" A beat, as he steers them down the left hand fork of the branching tunnel, "Well, Jenryth never really was the same. I think Leiventh broke the mold." A pause, as he adds, "Well, I think Vesereth came out fully grown, too. If a little bit gangly at first," he's chuckling under his breath now.

"I could," for it seems Telavi is apparently confident in her ability to imagine, "but it might hurt my head, R'hin. I'd better not. It's not hurting now. Also, even if it didn't, the next time I saw Leiventh I might giggle and that wouldn't be at all good for his image," she says seriously. "But anyway, poor Jenryth," this said with concern that's more token than anything. "Which one is Vesereth? The name is familiar. But it might be familiar in the way dragon names are familiar? I don't know."

"You're right," R'hin's quick to concede, "It would damage poor Leiventh's ego terribly to have you laugh at him." Another decisive turn is taken as he steers them towards a wider tunnel with glows that looks much more familiar. "Vesereth? Oh, some brownrider," he says with a distinctly light dismissive tone. "There, we're practically back in civilization," he says, cheerfully.

And that means that Tela's laughing now. Though she doesn't lose complete track of 'Vesereth,' if the muted syllables that she's repeating under her breath are any indication, at least until, "Look at that! R'hin, my hero," though she doesn't clutch at his arm or anything, or even look up. "Escaped from the wilderness. The land of tunnelsnakes and spinners and the odd renegade's bones."

"Giant tunnelsnakes and greenrider-eating spinners," R'hin corrects her. "You're lucky you didn't come to Monaco with us, or you'd get used to seeing them around." His steps quicken, but his steadying grip on her elbow doesn't loosen, however. With a sidelong glance, he asks, "So, have you and Edyis had much of a chance to get to know each other?"

"Only because bronzeriders are too stringy," Telavi tells him right before pish-poshing for lucky. "Mostly before," she says. "Some. But she's different now; she's like a different person, almost. Maybe she would have been that person anyway? But I don't think so, not the way she was. And if I had gone to Monaco I would have been all used to those creatures but now I'm still not," reverting back to earlier with the smallest of segues.

"Plus greenriders are generally lower to the ground," R'hin amends, with a low-throated chuckle. With a nod, for her assessment of Edyis, he says, "She stayed in Monaco for us. She helped us." The us being the Savannah sense of the word, presumably. "You wanted to ask me about her," he reminds, looking at her expectantly. A snort, for her latter comment: "Mmhm. That or you'd have been hiding under your bed the entire time."

"I thought bronzeriders hung low," Telavi teases, quite as though their feet didn't all touch the floor. She has a nod for Edyis, though, "I've heard a little. I... I don't remember what it was about, but I think maybe I was hoping to hear more? From you," who knows all or nearabouts. "What happened with her. And I would not have been hiding under my bed because it would be dusty there and also I'd rather have a hammock."

"Well," R'hin can't, and doesn't try to deny that, with a grin of concession. "You heard it. Any more, you have to ask her -- I'm not in the habit of giving away other people's secrets. Yours amongst them," he adds, with an easy smile. "Hammocks," he enthuses. "You should take my old weyr. I think V'teri was in it, but it should be free. Want to try?" Now, he seems to mean.

"Mmm. I wouldn't ask you to break your habit," Telavi claims, "but you could tell me the more public things. I don't want to be ignorant when I talk to her, after all. But--" she doesn't think first, just agrees, "Who's V'teri? Let's look." Though it does turn out that she has second thoughts, it's not to disagree with the trying; rather, "Are you going to get a fancy wingleader weyr now that you're here-here? I like the one you have for you, but I'm not either of you."

"The public things?" R'hin muses on that for a moment. "She's a scribe, under Master Jeroman. He's upset she abandoned him. Leova's taught her some basic dragonhealing. Not sure if she's still doing it. I've suggested she spend some time with the weyrlings, if you're amenable. Sitting in on classes and such. It's a good way to learn." But Telavi probably knows him to know that's hardly the sole reason for the suggestion. They've reached the inner tunnels, where it's more well-lit, though given the time of night it's still deserted. "A fancy weyr?" he sounds bemused, shaking his head at the idea. "I quite like ours. It suits Bristia and I; she can kick me out whenever she's bored or thinks I've done something to annoy her and I don't have to find somewhere to sleep."

"Maybe not that public," Telavi says right away to the first, but just as quickly hushes to hear the rest, in case; afterward she glances away, down one of the other hallways without necessarily seeing it. For his and Bristia's weyr, though, "Good." Perhaps the one word isn't descriptive enough for what she'd say were she less tired, but there's satisfaction to it. Were she less tired, though, she might not hesitantly say as they finally near the exit, "Are you... thinking she'd see more in them than we do?" That she does.

A slightly crooked grin answers her protest, as they pass through the Weyr tunnel exit and out into the bowl. "She's not a rider," R'hin says, simply, like that's answer enough. Perhaps, to him, it is. Squinting upwards: "Solith awake, or should I rouse Leiventh?"

"She's Stood, twice," Telavi says, but she's already looking upward. Up and up and up. "Please? She could be, but--" she isn't now," and it would be polite to ask someone who's made such an offer if he minds, but she doesn't.

"She probably wouldn't have Stood this time if I hadn't... reminded her," R'hin muses, though he sounds oddly almost like he regrets it. He did, after all, bet against her Impressing, so the other Savannah riders have probably mentioned in grumbling tones. An almost imperceptible nod precedes the descent of a dark shadow into the bowl, Leiventh recognizable by the distinctive hook of his nose if nothing else. R'hin's quick to mount, tying her sack to the straps, stretching down to offer the tired-looking greenrider a hand.

That tone has her looking his way, for all that it's dark; Telavi says nothing, but when Leiventh descends, she unfastens her turban and wraps it around her shoulders for safekeeping instead. Leiventh's more of a height to climb than Solith is; she murmurs quiet appreciation to the bronze-- and, somewhere, there's a faint, instinctive drift of sleeping Solith towards those wintry winds-- before accepting that hand up. She doesn't bother with straps; she just holds on and rests her head against R'hin's back, trusting. They could be going to the Red Star just like this.

Those winds are gentle, this late, and perhaps out of respect of the sleeping green, more soothing than shocking. Leiventh leaps aloft, a slow ascent taking them in a gentle, circling curve. He banks and lands on the broad, flat ledge. At first glance, the sets of stairs up and down are visible, the upper leading to a kind of lookout, where a hammock stretches overhead. The stairs down look to lead inside. R'hin makes a noise at the back of his throat, part amusement, part reminiscent, as he murmurs, "My first weyr. First time I had a place to myself," he twists, but he can't quite catch Telavi's expression from this angle.

Solith eases at that touch, drifting back down into dream. Telavi drifts with her, with Leiventh's gentle curve, eyes reopening at his landing; she doesn't immediately sit up but when she does, it's with sleepy interest as she looks out and over and-- is that his hammock? Perhaps her smile is audible when she says, "Mine too. Was it very exciting?"

"There's another one inside, but you'll catch the morning sun if you pick the outside one," R'hin says, with the knowledge of someone who's obviously had to make that difficult decision before. "I was just thrilled to have somewhere where we could just... be. Not be constantly under watch."

Her laugh is quiet, muted by drowsiness; "Thanks for the warning," Tela teases as though she's never ever been seen out running at dawn. "And... yes. Oh, yes. I... maybe you did, but I never stopped to think, then, about how the weyrlingmasters would rather not always be watching us."

"I don't know. I think mine got a kind of perverse pleasure out of it." Wiggling around enough that he can touch a finger to her nose, R'hin says, "I meant being woken by the sun in your eyes isn't great when you've just gone to bed. Do you want me to carry you up there and tuck you into bed?" he suggests, low throated laughter amused, but it seems a genuine offer for all that.

It's hard to laugh and ugh at the same time, but there it is, that nose of Tela's wrinkling up until he touches it-- and her eyes cross to look, and she laughs. "What a relief. I was worried about you there, sailor, I really was." She's smiling up at him now, but then she has to think; what starts out as natural assent turns into a shake of her head. "I shouldn't," she says with a sigh. "Besides, there's probably nothing to tuck into, if it really is abandoned. Would you mind, can Leiventh land on Solith's? It's tricky for the big ones."

"If I promised to bring a blanket, would you change your mind?" R'hin asks, with a grin. "Or have the weyrlings really sapped you of your willingness to try new things?"

"Don't make it difficult," Telavi says sternly, or at least as sternly as she can right now, which mightn't be saying a whole lot-- especially when she reaches up to rest her hand on her ringleader's shoulder. "I promise I will try out a hammock within the seven. I do not promise to leave it where I found it," and the starlight might or might not catch the dimple in her cheek before it disappears. More shyly, "And... nobody's waiting up for me, exactly, but I want to wake up with him."

"Really." All sorts of insinuation in there; her Wingleader's tone not disapproving but more disbelieving. "Well, I suppose we all make bad choices now and then." R'hin twists back around a moment before Leiventh drops off the ledge, circling down to Solith's ledge. It isn't an easy landing for a bronze of his size, but Leiventh's angular frame probably helps, along with many Turns of practice.

That gets him a thwack on that same shoulder, though Telavi might be too tired to-- no, she's not too tired to roll her eyes. She's not dead yet. This landing she even watches, and closely at that, given the narrow landing space; it's not impossible that Leiventh might feel her appreciation for managing it, though all she says out loud is, "Thank you," to them both. It must be so tempting to abandon that smelly sack with them... but she doesn't hesitate too long before walking off with it, if only to abandon it in a sheltered spot just past the curtain of Solith's weyr. It's after they depart that the curtain finally, fully falls.