Difference between revisions of "Logs:Difficult"

The sun is setting when E'gin finally calls an end to the formation practice, "Good job, all!" It is overly cheerful, like someone who knows that they will be talked about as soon as they are out of ear shot. Still there are words of praise for several pairs as they start to scatter off for dinner. Several have already left when he finally dismounts, swinging his leg over the neck of his brown before sliding down his haunches and landing easily on the ground with bent knees. "Riorde, like it better up front?" Is offered before she has a chance to escape with the other weyrlings.

Already on the ground, Riorde is halfway into the entrance of the cavern when hailed, intent upon changing before she too breaks for the evening meal. Her hair is tightly pulled back in a ponytail, yet fringe still falls in front of her eyes. This she pushes back as she turns to face E'gin with palpable annoyance - mild, but unmistakably present. "It's fine." Her clipped tone communicates far more than the short answer: leave me alone.

To Szadath, Sforzath's Riorde is distracted, her annoyance focalized around another figure and leaving him free to roam other currents in the back of her mind that throb like a headache: Taikrin, Taikrin, fucking Taikrin. That, and his own halfgrown ideas on what's best for his rider, channel him into reaching out behind his rider's back. No questions, just a whiff of curiosity contained in the sweet spice of incense.

To Sforzath, Szadath's mind is not a particularly pleasant place to be these days; there's something hot laced through the chill breezes of his mind, distinctly red and angry-feeling. « Little brother. » Still, he doesn't seem altogether displeased for Sforzath's distraction -- because he IS a distraction, from dwelling on the smoke and fire burning somewhere poorly hidden in his mind.

He seems content enough to ignore the annoyance in the girl's voice, instead of allowing her to go E'gin closes some of the distance between them, "Fine?" He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "Which do you like more?" Another step, "Sforzath is more agile than most browns, so he can really do either..." The male trails off, buried in his tone is the acknowledgment that the girl doesn't wish to speak with him, perhaps he's starved for conversation with another human.

Infuriatingly, "I like them both." Riorde looks unapproachable with her arms folded tightly across her flat chest and a forbidding expression on her face, and yet E'gin approaches. "Whatever you think best." Sarcasm, clearly. She stares the other weyrling down, allowing an unencouraging silence to grow up before she finally asks, "What do you want, E'gin?"

To Szadath, Sforzath has had time to subside from his own red-sparked, dark billowing anger-- or else he's learning to contain it, direct its flow. A few embers catch, uncovered in echo of the other dragon's mind. « Big brother. » Then nothing more for some time, as he considers how to proceed. Finally, an observation. « You are -- » It doesn't come in words but pictures, sensations: desolate wind whipping up; the needling tongues of flame.

To Sforzath, Szadath rages destruction, safe within the confines of his own head: there is wailing and gnashing of teeth and burning and destruction, and in his head he is chasing after a pointy dark-gold figure who remains always just out of grasp. Warning is met with thwarted anger, echoing and echoing through his mind. « MINE! » And then contact is severed with all the violence, the mental equivalent of a punch to the jaw.

Her eyebrows lift. Riorde reverts to the sort of silence that E'gin must recognise from earlier times: a mute expectancy that can stretch on and on. She can out-wait anyone.

"Oh fine, Riorde." E'gin's tone is even, though his brows pull together in frustration, creases forming across his forehead. "I really just wanted to know how you thought everyone did, but I can see you won't help. Your grudges only hurt yourself - " He trails off, turning to walk off in the other direction.

Rhaelyn heads in from the weyrling barracks. Rhaelyn has arrived.

Riorde seems hell-bent on being difficult as she makes no move to keep E'gin from walking away. Nor does she recall him or provide the feedback he's seeking. Instead, she watches his back with faint satisfaction before turning to resume her original path.

E'gin mumbles softly as he makes his way back to Vysravth, as he begins the process of removing him from his straps.

Rhaelyn comes sauntering out from the weyrling barracks with her change of clothes and some wash-up items. She nearly runs into Riorde as she comes out, nose crinkled slightly, "Where are you running off to?" Sure, she knows that something is up, but it's so much more fun to point it out.

Any satisfaction left playing on Riorde's expression gets wiped right off as she avoids collision with Rhaelyn. Her abrupt halt brings her face-to-face with the younger weyrling for the first time today; Riorde's been in avoidance mode since the altercation the day before. "Dinner," she replies tersely, without the slightest bit of warmth to it. "Do you object to me changing first?"

E'gin notices the run in of the two girls, but watches only for a moment before turning back to the task at hand. A task which is taking much longer than actually necessary.

Rhaelyn smiles, so sweetly and even with a little downward cast of her eyes for a moment before looking up through the lashes at Riorde, "I don't see as you have to ask me for permission for anything. You being in a leadership role and all that. Right? I was just curious is all. I'm heading in for a bath myself. If you'd like to join in." Oh such a friendly invitation. She's not even noticed E'gin's there.

E'gin's lingering hasn't escaped Riorde's attention. Or Sforzath's, rather; her back is turned, but her smoke-hued dragon sits just outside the cavern where he can look on unobtrusively, almost spying. "Thanks for offer." Riorde's sarcasm is a subtle beast, lurking out of immediate range but not out of perception. "But I think I'll eat first."

Vysravth is finally freed of his straps. Folding them into something semi-manageable E'gin starts towards the barracks, "Have a good dinner, Riorde." He flashes a smile at both girls as he starts to pass by them, "Rhaelyn." The only greeting given to the greenrider.

It's sweet, cheerful Amareth who makes her arrival with her wing still bound in the splint yet her attitude never sullied that perks up just then, « We could have our meal while ours have food. » Thoughts of food and satisfying a darker hunger bright in her thoughts. Meanwhile Rhae smiles to Ri, "Whatever you fancy." And her attention shifts to E'gin, "Oh. hello E'gin. How is leadership duty seeing you?"

Riorde's returning smile is so obviously faked. She blows past the other girl without acknowledging E'gin's overtures to civility, and -- to the extent that the close quarters of the weyrling barracks allow -- seeks no further contact with either of her peers.