Difference between revisions of "Logs:Someone's Been Landing on My Ledge"

Family weyrs are most often quiet when they're empty. This is nearly the case now, Madilla at the infirmary, Raija off learning to be a social creature with the nannies, and Arekoth, the loudest of them all (at least to H'kon) taking in the views, and sharing only some of them. Landing is, after all, just an extension of flying, and flying, he is good at. Especially when motivated by a need for vantage. H'kon's own pursuits have spilled over to his dragon's couch, a few hides to one side of the pillow on which he sits, short legs straight out before him, and one particular report in hand, being read. It's engrossing enough that he's not aware of the sound of his own heart or breath, or even of the silence surrounding him.

Is he aware of the suddenly-quiet footsteps that leapt up the stairs and now all but tiptoe into the weyr? If he isn't, the first thing he might notice of Telavi is the way she clears her throat once she stands in front of him, arms folded. Ahem.

Of the footsteps? No. Of the presence? H'kon is looking up just that sliver of a second before the sound of her clearing throat draws his attention. By the long-suffering look of him, Telavi is not the only one to suddenly appear in this space, his space, since they've all moved in. The hide is slowly laid face-down in his lap. "Greenrider," comes first. He only convinces himself to stand (with a ghosted grunt) after the word has been issued.

"Brownrider," Tela says pertly-- if not happily. "Do you have any idea," in the sort of tone that practically demands a 'whatsoever' thereafter, "why I have approached you this day?"

That tone - that tone in his space - earns a hardening of the man's features, and a change of posture toward the more stiff, bordering on protective. "I expect you mean to tell me."

"Do you know where," Telavi inquires, "your dragon is right now?"

H'kon doesn't even take the moment that might be needed to reach to Arekoth, to ask. He answers, quite simply, "With yours."

"With my dragon," Telavi agrees. "Not on the Rim. Not in or on the lake. Not in the hot springs. Not on the ledges above the sands. Not on the sands. Not in the galleries," a smile teases at her mouth before she can quite quash it, "not on someone else's ledge, not in the feeding pens, not on his ledge, but our ledge. Again."

There's an intake of breath that makes his chest rise, that flares his nostrils. H'kon does not speak that first thought, however. "If Solith were displeased at Arekoth's being there, then he'd not be there." Did he even notice that almost-smile? Green eyes haven't left Telavi since he's noticed her.

"I don't doubt that." Tela taps her foot, once. "My dragon happens to be nice," this is not exactly a compliment, "and friendly and she is just fine with his being there all the time, but you know, it gets in the way."

"If you," and the stress is heavy on this, as much for the purpose of cutting to her point, as H'kon sees it, as for differentiating Telavi from her green, "have such a concern-" and it's here that a memory strikes, that the brownrider's voice changes from borderline commanding to thoughtful, "why not have Solith simply ask that he leaves?" Now, H'kon can blink. "He'd not resist," is nearly an afterthought.

Tela presses her lips together. Softer with his own change in tone as well as the subject, slower, but scarcely less emphatic, "She likes him, I told you," if only by implication. Doesn't that concern him? "She doesn't see it as a problem to have to wait to land until he gets out of the way, for her or for our guests, some of whom need a lot of landing room." She bites off more.

"And you do?" He brings his arms to fold in front of his chest, but it's slow, musing, rather than shutting down. Beneath those eyebrows, H'kon watches closely.

She looks away, she exhales; turning back from the ledge, though, "I don't like having to wait," Telavi says to H'kon. "Or having invited guests have to wait, to land on my own ledge." She keeps looking at him, those eyebrows, those eyes.

"He would leave, with warning." H'kon lifts his chin, faintly, and the hand, still clasping that hide, which is now of course tucked under an elbow, tightens its grip, just slightly. "From Solith."

"From Solith." Telavi repeats with slight, slight emphasis to her name. "Who might be asleep." Not the one landing. "Tell me... would he do so without giving anyone a knowing look, and stalling just long enough to irritate, and settling so there's only barely enough room, and rating the landings, and generally treating it as though it were his very own roost?"

H'kon's head tilts, faintly. For a time, he offers no response, simply considers, putting a bump in the hide by way of alternating pressure from his fingers. That hide is then gestured toward the table, in that neutral zone between weyr and couch. "Sit."

Neutral zone, neutral-- neutral-and-wearied-- voice; instinctively Telavi takes a second, surprised look at him and then moves to do just that, as simply as though he'd prettily said please.

H'kon follows after her, and takes the chair opposite, once he's certain the greenrider has settled. That hide, once again, is put face down, this time on the table. He rests one hand overtop of it. "Have you had her tell him."

Telavi sits neatly, nothing like a sprawl, knees together and hands together too. The latter stay in her lap. "She's related what I think," she believes. "I haven't-- made her."

"Hm." It's acknowledgement, a mental note made. "And what does she think?" That one is actually a question. He waits, with eyebrows.

An actual question. Telavi may not seem aware of the honor done her, but she does give that question thought, her gaze dipping briefly. Once it rises to his once more, "Solith would like it if everyone got along."

"That is not always the way of things," decides the brownrider, his own gaze not faltering. "Arekoth misses the sky," comes out, as if it were a new topic, with a flat certainty that braces whatever shaking this amount of sharing might otherwise want to instill. "To address your more immediate concern: I will speak to him about staying off Solith's ledge in future."

"I--" Telavi stops, looking first around and then out before, again, back to H'kon. "He needn't stay off always," she says quickly. "It's just--" Then she pauses. Earnestly, "I don't know if you're familiar? But there are other... mini-ledges, I suppose you could say, a hop from her ledge that's for landing on. There's a little more sun that way too. If he'd take to those, he could still have sky," if he could also have it in the sky or on the Rim, she doesn't address it, "and they could still settle in together," that with a touch of hesitation. "She'd like that. But I don't know if he would, with less... easy teasing to be had."

H'kon dips his head, one slow nod. "There are other places that have sky, yes," has almost a quiet calm to it. Certainly a quiet. Whatever else might be said on the topic, on his part and perhaps Telavi's as well, is waved off, a quick flick of his fingers. But still he waits.

"What?" Telavi asks in the end. It's an actual question, too.

H'kon studies her a moment, and something relents, visible only in the minutest change of the angle of his head. "Have you any other concerns?"

She looks downward, down to her folded hands; when her gaze rises once more, her head does not, white barely showing beneath the darkened blue-green of her irises. "None I think you can solve," Telavi says and then smiles, faint but there. "Are there any of my weyrlings you'd let on to eyeing, yet, for Alpine?"

H'kon's brow has become some sort of immovable ridge, from under which he's watching the greenrider. "Perhaps not," is agreed - knowingly - for her concerns. The browridge stays, but he leans back, shifts a bit, unsettled. "That bluerider." As if she should know the one. And then, "Azhanoth."

Her brows lift; he clarifies, she nods. She's leaning forward, now, as though the two of them were counterweights. "She's been on the reliable end of things." Tela has indeed heard that's valuable, in some circles.

"Indeed. I'm certain others have been considering her as well, but." His fingers twitch, like they might have some gesture, some communication to share... but it never quite arrives fully-formed. "She would fit well with us."

She waits, and then she's still looking-- no pretense about it, no concealment-- at his hands when she asks, "What more is it? Than reliability? What there is of it out there, I mean."

"In her?" He lifts his chin faintly, "Or generally?"

Tela's eyes lift now, blue. "And."

"Awareness," answers H'kon. "Generally... such an awareness, or purpose, or potential to be directed." The list comes slowly, each quality likely coming from an example, though he elaborates on none. Naturally.

"Do they still fit," Telavi wonders, "when... their purpose doesn't sound so close to yours?"

H'kon's browridge, ever present, is certainly not moved by that. It even has a bit of a frown paired with it. "I suppose that would depend." From another mouth, it would be an invitation. But this brownrider is standing up from the table.

"Yes?" Telavi slides her chair back.

"On any number of factors." His face changes, even to the point that those eyebrows lessen their held, briefly. "Arekoth is no longer on Solith's ledge."

"Here I'd thought to learn something," Telavi notes gently enough. She rises. And reminds, "He's welcome on her... weyr-less ledges," at least as long as she doesn't think about it too long.

"It's a difficult thing to speak to in generality," observes H'kon, those eyebrows neatly back in place. A nod, and only a nod, acknowledges the comment of ledges. He shifts, so that he's standing clearly in a place that doesn't block the exit, and even may highlight its placement.

"This is your cue for me to depart?" Telavi inquires with a tilt of her head.

"Hm," says H'kon, on cues for departure.

That evidently doesn't count enough as using his words; Telavi simply nods and looks around, starting to turn to get a better view of his-- and their weyrhealer's-- new digs. "Nice place," she mentions. For a ground weyr.

"Telavi," comes with an edge more authority behind it - not a command, but a firmness, really. "I've much to do while this weyr is empty."

"Thank you for being," a quiet pause, "more clear." Telavi doesn't stress the adjective, particularly; she just looks at him, and then wishes, "Good day," before she goes.

"Clear skies," H'kon answers back. It's only after she's making her way back down those stairs - those far too accessible stairs - that he scrubs a hand over his face and jaw. There's a moment of recuperation to follow, and only then does he return to his work, back to the floor on the edge of Arekoth's couch.