Difference between revisions of "Logs:A Moment of Courage"

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.

Rukbat is reluctant to disappear behind the horizon, stubborn sunlight granting those growing, gliding dragonets more time in the air. Hraedhyth watches, as she always does, from her spot in the bowl. It's far enough to avoid temptation, but close enough that maternal gaze is able to take in each triumph as well as mistakes. So long as the weather stays pleasant, Azaylia will make a habit of doing her least sensitive hidework outside. Nestled in the center of Hraedhyth's wide semi-circle, the Weyrwoman scratches through a page of numbers, expression neutral during the easy (for her) figuring.

A gold dragon is a very hard thing to miss, Hraedhyth a giant brown gold spot visible from some distance away. At least that makes Edyis's own mission easier, the leather wrapped volume tucked neatly under arm, she spots the not so elusive weyrwoman. It's from a respectful distance that Edyis calls over at the very edge of that semi-circle, "Weyrwoman Azaylia, Just the person I was looking for, do you have a moment?"

Azaylia doesn't answer at first, the pressure of her stylus increasing with the urgency to finish her thought as well as respond to the call. Once she's done, brown eyes flick up to find Edyis at the edge of Hraedhyth, the gold's attention firmly placed on the awkward dragons in the sky. "Yes, hello?" The greeting is paired with a quick, friendly smile and if one expects there to be recognition in her gaze, there is only expectant curiosity. If only just realizing there's a second half, "Oh. Yes, I do. You can come in, you know." Sounding fond her dragon's perimeter, even if it's still technically 'outside'.

It is only after permission is received, that the young scribe dares cross into that perimeter. "Thank you. I'm sure you don't remember me but I'm Edyis, I work in the records room under Master Jeroman." The scribe offers by way of explanation as the distance is crossed in short, but purposeful strides. Taking the volume between both hands, Edyis comes to a halt just within the goldrider's reach. "I thought you might like these."

That breathless "Aah." might be telling, once Edyis supplies her with a name. Azaylia's gaze is still openly curious as she searches the girl's face, focus dropping to the offered volume. "What are they?" Not knowing doesn't stop the Weyrwoman from emptying her hands so that she can reach up, choosing not to shift from her cross-legged position on the ground. Her gauzy, golden sundress has enough material to roll over her knees, the position comfortable and casual, regardless of her rank.

Her mouth twists a little at the Aah, not quite breaking into open laughter but somewhere at the edge of it. "Color and feature notes for this hatching, I thought you might like to have a copy of the inked final drawings and colors, since I promised the weyrlings a copy. It doesn't include the eggs themselves, I got back to the Weyr a little bit too late for that," she says apologetically. "Consider it a thank you for advice taken to heart."

Mention of the hatching is enough to brighten Azaylia's casual expression, lips curling as she takes her time in flipping open the notes and looking through them. Distractedly, "Advice?" If she doesn't remember Edyis, the chance of remembering anything said is even slimmer. A soft murmur, "These are very nice. Thank you."

It certainly doesn't seem as though the young scribe is offended at being forgotten, quite the opposite. "Something along the lines of embracing one's own freedom. Gave me the courage to take a trip to Monaco and see more of Pern. It was silly really, I'd be amazed if you did remember, over two turns ago." She does lean over to peek at the computations, curious but trying her best not to seem invasive. "I'll leave you to your work then. Looks like fun."

"I don't remember saying that." Azaylia's honesty betrays her, and this time she glances from the notes and sketches up at Edyis. "But," And that same genuine emotion is there in her gentle smile, "I'm glad you were able to go on your trip and enjoy yourself." The paperwork is hardly anything to be kept from prying eyes, and even so it's written in short hand along with those numbers. Possible comparisons of inventory? It's forgotten, for now, the Weyrwoman farm more interested in what Edyis has gifted her. "Mmm." Another distracted answer, before she looks up again, "Really, thank you. I'll probably go over this a few times." She sounds excited by the prospect, but before any of that... there is work to be done. "Have a good day, Edyis."

Edyis laughs, bright and warm. "Enjoy your work Weyrwoman." The scribe waves, before retreating to leave the pair in peace. Setting off to return to her own duties.