Difference between revisions of "Logs:All Work And No Play"

It comes in a laughing, almost playful swirl of finest-grained, golden dust upon his dam's smokey, burning hearth. « I am big enough, now. » For what? (To Hraedhyth from Ilicaeth)

Hraedhyth's flames are thrown this way and that, grains cut through the fire that flickers just as playfully for it. Alert, but not alarmed, the gold is quick to toss back with a low rumble, « For. » So close to sounding like a question, rather than a casual demand. (To Ilicaeth from Hraedhyth)

Oh, the wickedness, the rumbling EBIL that swirls up like an ochre-red tornado of sand upon the gold's hearth! More congenially-dark, baritone laughter issues from the gyre (he's having a damned good time, apparently!). « I didn't ferget, oh dam uv' mine. » His delivery is a mix of the younger Ilicaeth and his blonde lifemate, now. « BATTLE. » Oh, how he ripples, shivers with the glorious joy of finally being able to spar seriously with her! (To Hraedhyth from Ilicaeth)

There's a cant to mind's focus, a curious twist as she watches the blue work himself up into a frenzy over..? « Battle. » Hraedhyth husks, low register stretched out in a drawl that's accompanied by those pounding drums. « You wish to fight. » Battle? Spar? He must mean to wrestle and play. (To Ilicaeth from Hraedhyth)

Not a frenzy. More like the inevitable eagerness for (mock) carnage that comes over every warrior just before their first 'battle.' There is only glory, joy, and a subtle right-of-passage that will come from this...as well as physical exertion and the pleasure that comes with its efforts. All of this is shared openly with the gold, as well as the sight of the beach front they're currently setting up camp upon down South. « A GLORIOUS place to spar, ain't it? » (To Hraedhyth from Ilicaeth)

Rather than the idea of play, Hraedhyth instead pounces on the view shared by the blue. It's quickly snapped up by greedy jaws, flames impatient to burn the image, to experience what can be felt through Ilicaeth. « It could be. » Nothing indecisive despite the words, it's simple fact. It could be a glorious place to spar, but she can't tell from here. « You are enjoying your journey? » A rite of passage in itself, for he and the other juveniles. (To Ilicaeth from Hraedhyth)

Twined in with his greater lust for their upcomign spar - where and whenever it is - is Ilicaeth's great joy at the feeling of delightlfully warm (if muggy) air rich with the scents of life that was here-to-for unknown to himself and Alida. And the *water*... « Like nothin' I've ever known. Her either. » The 'work' they're doing, and will soon do is *not* toil to either the gritty blue or his lifemate, simply more pleasure in new-found things. « You *gotta'* come down here. » (To Hraedhyth from Ilicaeth)

Hraedhyth's flames are set to shuddering as she pulls from Ilicaeth's joy, a deep inhale for the scents that are so unlike the icy cold of Home. As her intense warmth is offered to the blue, so does she soak up his pleasure-- basking in it. She is pleased because he is. « It is for you. » The senior weyrlings. But, a tendril of smoke does curl, oh so tempted, « A quick visit. » Not now, but maybe while they're still down there. (To Ilicaeth from Hraedhyth)

She's been all about work, lately, since her rider's now Acting Weyrwoman, so really, « Whenever you c'n make it. » But they *need* to, even if just for a handful of hours. Images made of flame, smoke, sand skitter and dance eagerly before mind's eye, showing Ilicaeth and Hraedhyth basking in warm sands and bright sun, them hunting for food for their Weyr, *and* most especially the craggy blue and his buff momma chest-slamming, tail-slapping, and neck thumping each other. Oh, the JOY! (To Hraedhyth from Ilicaeth)

Ilicaeth's enthusiasm is a kindling all too eagerly swallowed up by Hraedhyth's growing inferno, matching the restless itch in her muscles. He is not wrong. She has been too still, lately. Too focused and willing to bend to floral muzzle and responsibility's restrictions. The queen could use some of that joy. « I will convince Mine. » There is no try, in this case. Balance will be restored. (To Ilicaeth from Hraedhyth)

Indeed; duty must be interspersed with celebrations of being alive, of feeling joy and accomplishment in work well-done! Ilicaeth's been busting his hump, just like his rider, almost all of their long weyrlinghood, and *now* it's time to 'work' a bit more, but more importantly *enjoy*! « It's just plain ol' sense. She'll see the right uv' it. » With a final swirl of that leftover eagerness that makes his hide ripple, the gritty blue gives his momma a big ol' 'bear' hug with neck and tail, then swirls back towards the weyrlings' Southern camp. He's currently watching how Alida directs herself and others on how to properly set up a safe, sound camp - including a fire! - and his pride in his lifemate is apparent...as is his humor in the groans she causes amongst her fellow humans. Get with it, boots! (To Hraedhyth from Ilicaeth)

Just as Hraedhyth is enveloped, those flames reach to wrap around the blue in kind. Warm adoration and of course pride can all be felt through the bond that is no longer maternal-- having weened the young dragons these last few months. But she is still his queen, one half of the whole Weyr, and she celebrates him. Ilicaeth. There's no protective cling as his focus dances elsewhere, a glance spared for the abilities of his lifemate before she pulls back. A throaty chuff, « Be well. » Have fun. (To Ilicaeth from Hraedhyth)

A leftover puff of finest golden dust is left upon her hearth, and then it is sucked away, as is Ilicaeth's attention, though left behind for a moment upon the heat of her pride is a baritone chuckle and a dry and raspy warrior's « I intend to. » (To Hraedhyth from Ilicaeth)