Difference between revisions of "Logs:Don't Try This at Home: Liesanth Edition"

It's during a break in the day's rain when a scarred young Fortian bronze blinks into existence over Minecraft Hall, then circles down to land. As his rider and passenger dismount, Liesanth fidgets; he clearly would prefer to be up and flying in the cool autumn weather, rather than stuck on the ground waiting to see if they have to carry their passenger back afterwards. Restless, he stretches his wings out and wiggles back and forth, as if trying to press a wallow into the still-damp ground.

It's from a cluster of huddled-together dragons in the heights-- even younger dragons than Liesanth, by their size-- that a long green neck pops out, Solith peering single-lidded and then other, smaller heads joining her to look: rather like a fowl atop her nest with chicks all about, except for the part where they're all but burying her. She warbles, high and airy, and though some of them echo her greeting to the wiggler, their mental voices are so, so tired. Hers isn't. « Fastest! » Her rider's not in evidence, but then neither are theirs: inside, presumably.

At that familiar mental call, Liesanth's head goes up and the wiggling ceases. « Guardian of Small Ones! » he replies, the zephyr-touch of his thoughts warming up. Getting back up from his little impromptu boredom-wallow, the bronze folds his wings over the scars along his back once more and makes his way over to the green (and assorted horde of small weyrling dragons).

Solith flutters the tips of her own wings, headknobs tipped his way; there's a half-audible mental murmur of what might be her explaining to the Small Ones, right before she shares their names within an impression of each mind-sense. It's quickly, more so that he might be able to track them than anything enunciated to be easier to memorize. « Their riders, » riders, finally! « must listen to the Smiths. The Smiths talk and talk and talk and talk, » she shares. « Will you warn your rider? »

Liesanth pauses, tilting his head to one side. « Too late, » he replies without shame; apparently, C'stian is now trapped with the Most Talkative people. The bronze looks over the Small Ones curiously. « They seem tired. Have they flown very much today? »

Solith spends a moment for sympathy-- there's a sense that her rider is doing some talking of her own, but not with the Talkers-- and relates, « They have. Through the rain, even, not here but out there, so much rain. » Likely that part's shared on some level, given how a couple of the young ones preen for the praise even as another yawns. Whispered, though, as though it were some dark secret, « They cannot yet go between. »

« They will learn, » This, too, is shared with the younger ones; Liesanth, for all his healthy bronze ego, is not going to pretend he was able to go Between at their age. « There are probably other things they are already very good at! » Then he turns his attention fully to Solith. « And when they can go Between, you should bring them to visit us! »

« Eating! » assures one, while another chimes in with the idea of flying, they're so fast, and a third is still sleepy enough to recommend naps before slouching against a clutchmate. « I will, » Solith assures. « It cannot be long now. » Can it? « They have their own weyrs and everything, » and if Liesanth isn't careful, he might well be overwhelmed by all the excited images and praise and complaints and more images, with some bugles on the side.

Liesanth's response to flying fast is one of joy, mixed with skepticism. « A weyr is good. Mine has a pool in it. » Never mind that the pool is in his rider's room, and far too small for a dragon. « And it is very good to fly fast, » he assures them, with approval. However, he cannot help but add, « But you are not as fast as me. » Solith will totally back him up on this, won't she?

« No fair! » they clamor in many, many variations, even if one also huffs about how he's seen plenty of wet already. The arguing comes next about speed, but ever-obliging Solith-- almost ever, anyway-- assures, « He really is. So fast! » Only then she looks at Liesanth. Won't he show them? Her added reply is to the weyrlings, however; « When you are not so tired, and also bigger, perhaps it will be closer. Liesanth is Big and Grown and Fast. »

« I am the Fastest, » Liesanth says, with a sense of approval for Solith's support. Under the green's regard, he preens slightly; he most certainly can show them. « Watch me! » And then he turns, and takes to the air with a ready leap, moving to climb into the sky overhead. He's definitely heading up very high, in his usual tactic. More height means more speed.

If all this watching causes the dragonets to watch in fascination-- sure, there are plenty of fast dragons at High Reaches, but they aren't showing off right here and now-- to the point that they aren't doing so much squirming and stepping on each other's paws or tails and then complaining about it... that's not a bad thing, is it? Why, it's something that Solith absolutely has to encourage, and she does, with excited sound effects in the background. It might even lengthen their short attention spans enough that they keep paying attention even while he's still climbing and they're waiting for whatever comes next.

Once he determines he's reached an appropriate height, Liesanth circles once, twice... and then lets himself drop like a stone. He lets himself pick up speed, plummeting downwards, before spreading his wings and leveling out to tear overhead at a rather impressive speed. Circling back, he still manages to retain most of his speed as he makes another pass over the dragonets. If not the Fastest, the Fortian bronze is certainly Very Fast indeed... or at least clever about building up his speed.

Some of the subtler sound effects fwoosh in the background while he does it, too... and with that, a blue dragon, still slightly smaller than Solith, wings up to try and copy him. Guess who's going to be that much more exhausted on the trip home?

« They are quick to try things, » Liesanth observes to Solith. The young bronze is a terrible influence; is anyone surprised? Still, the bronze remains overhead, circling around as he watches the little blue climb upwards. After all, better he be airborne if anything goes wrong with the dragonet tries the drop.

« Very! » Solith affirms cheerfully, even as somewhere, Telavi is sighing. The blue is flapping upward, going for height but not bothering to ascend as high as Liesanth... which only makes a good two-thirds of the remaining crew look expectantly at the adult dragon. They've seen their clutchmate fly before. What's his next trick?

Liesanth drops again, this time roaring along the ground only two feet above the surface. This is simply showing off, at this point; he heads towards the Hall itself, then pulls up to follow the little blue. C'stian is almost certainly exasperated somewhere, himself, but Liesanth is well aware that his rider is stuck indoors dealing with the Most Talkatives and so he has at least a few more minutes of freedom.

The weyrling's dropping, dropping, dropping, more a controlled fall than anything so elegant as a plummet; Solith's whistling call has him pulling out of it far earlier than Liesanth had, grumbling but safe as well as speedy, coasting along... and finally looking where he's going just in time to lift upward as the hill rises. He looks back over his wing, hoping for attention and applause and maybe even envy, but no, the dragonets are just about all looking at Liesanth by now. Not that it seems so exciting to them at first, but when Solith points out how dangerous it is and, half-heartedly, how they shouldn't do it... now they're fascinated. If only it weren't for, deep within the Hall, the smith finishing up; whether just this talk or the whole visit, perhaps only the woman and Telavi's schedule know.

Liesanth, at least, offers his approval to the dragonet; the little blue shows promise of greater speed. (Or at least an enjoyment of the same recklessly fast flight style that the bronze himself prefers.) He circles back, landing near the Hall once again so that he's prepared to play innocent when his rider emerges. Causing trouble? Him? Never!

Solith's all effervescent merriment; it's the rest of them who're going to have to pay. True, Solith might in the end when Telavi gets ahold of her... but that isn't now. Why, by the time that emergence occurs, she'll be artlessly admiring the clouds as they float by, with most of the weyrlings finding their own entertainment. It's just one or two that, were he to look, might be seen to still be peering at Liesanth all goggle-eyed. The visiting bronze may well get away with it... this time.