Difference between revisions of "Logs:Flowers For Hattie"

This end of the bowl is grassy and serene with the pretty blue of the lake nearby as a draw for residents, riders and dragons alike. Since the earthslide collapsed in the spring of turn 23, a dramatic view of the mountain slopes that circle the Weyr has opened up beyond the lake, where a faint misty haze often shimmers above the small waterfall.

The feeding grounds are fenced off to on the northeastern end of the lake, just a short walk from the weyrling barracks, the Weyrleader's complex, the hatching complex, living cavern, and infirmary.

Many ground 'weyrs' circle the Bowl.

When Hraedhyth blinks into existence above Fort Weyr, it's without her usual joyous roar. Even when the queen reaches out to greet Weyrleaders and watchrider, her drums sound distant and her flames don't burn as hot-- smothered by the overly considerate floral perfume of her rider. Her usual landing can't be helped, a solid whump that shakes the floor for half a moment, perhaps frightening for those who are still wary of quakes. Azaylia's dismount is much, much softer by comparison, a tall, cloaked figure cradling a bouquet of bright flowers.

Familiar yet different, it's from a distance that Hraedhyth's drums echo across her plains. Subdued, and not by her own hand. Even her fire, while not dimmed, doesn't roar with the heat it's capable of. Floral chains could be broken, but aren't, for they're a reminder to be gentle, not an order. « Elaruth. » The younger queen's contralto carries a low rumble, « We come to see how Yours are. » Hattie. The Weyr. Elaruth's. « We will not... Mine says it is best for Yours to rest. » (To Elaruth from Hraedhyth)

Consider Elise one of those whose sense of awareness when it comes to tremors of the earth has been heightened. She's standing out in the bowl, turned towards the weyrling complex with her hands in the pockets of her long coat, staring off at either the place where the bad things happened, or maybe just staring at nothing. Lately she's been doing that, and some people have learned to just leave her alone. Understandably she isn't ready for Hraedhyth's landing and the whump startles her so that she spins around with her hand to her heart. The sight of a foreign queen doesn't help and she immediately begins to sidestep around the perimeter, seeking out the rider, ah there she is. "Hello," she greets, with a distinct lack of warmth but with much politeness, and a little lilt at the end that makes it almost a query.

Quiet at the best of times, there's near silence across the marshes that lie in the depths of Elaruth's touch, the shallow water still and the slim reeds bending with the weight of something unseen. « Hraedhyth, » is a mere murmur, fear and exhaustion lending her voice a tremor that is never normally present. « Thank you. She sleeps, » and /then/ there's the chill, creeping up as thought to voice the worst of what comes with that statement ('what if she doesn't--'), « but I will tell her you were here. » (To Hraedhyth from Elaruth)

A hand is held out to feel the drizzle, preferable over the driving rains back at High Reaches Weyr. Azaylia tugs down the hood of her cloak, revealing that she too has been looking towards the weyrling barracks. The place where bad things happen. Elise's greeting startles the foreign weyrwoman out of her thoughts, squeaking and giving a start as a protective hand rests on the bouquet. "O-Oh! Hello. I, how are you?" Even as the words leave, there's a faint wince. Clearing her throat, "I'm Azaylia, Acting Weyrwoman of High Reaches Weyr. Do you know if... Is Weyrwoman Hattie in the infirmary?"

Through the links of that floral chain, Hraedhyth's flames reach out to lend not only warmth, but strength. « Thank you. » She is nothing if not willful, heat touching upon that chill while not overstepping her bounds. The warrior queen has more than enough fortitude to lend to Elaruth, simply sitting out in the bowl as she is. « Yours will be fine. » Drums echo with truth, though it is only her belief. « Yours is strong. The strongest. All will be well. » A grunt to end on that single-minded sincerity. (To Elaruth from Hraedhyth)

Small, sure, but protective, Elise lifts her chin and gives Azaylia one of those eye-corner looks, and if her steps carry her sideways until she's standing between the High Reaches queenrider and the way she'd take to get to the northern part of the bowl so be it. "No," she answers easily, glancing up at Hraedhyth and then back. "She isn't." Not no she doesn't know. "She's been staying home. Are you here to see her?" She's been a little more relieved since the giving of Azaylia's name, but still she looks pointedly at the flowers. "Are those for her?"

Strength is not only readily, but gratefully accepted, Elaruth leaning into the offered warmth without toppling herself too far into her fellow queen's mind. « She is strong, » she agrees, the words so soft as to be drawn together from the mist that so often defines her mental presence, resisting the temptation to allow herself to use the past tense. « I will remind them of that. » /Them/ is accompanied by a brief sense of her mate's storms, then, more faintly, multi-hued bubbles and another's desert sands, then more and more as to be an entire Weyr. « /Thank you/. » (To Hraedhyth from Elaruth)

A flutter of lashes, one blink after the other as Elise speaks. There's no pinpointing what it is about the girl that continues to startle Azaylia, that has her airy voice lowering into an even softer murmur. "Ah... yes. These are for her." The bouquet is a mix of little clusters of white, pale rose, and a far more vibrant pink blossom that falls a few pigments short of red. "I had heard, well. About everything. I wasn't going to be a bother, just wish her well and give her these--" Hraedhyth's pale head turns suddenly, a low rumble leaving the large queen as she aims a faceted eye at both her rider and Elise. "Oh. I've been told Weyrwoman Hattie is sleeping." It's not disappointment that has her biting her lower lip, just anxiety over the freshly cut flowers.

To Elaruth, Hraedhyth isn't lacking in that strength, cradling the edges of Elaruth's mind and offering all that she can spare. Though the drums continue, her voice is still in reverance to all of those that make up the Weyr. She too is tied to her tribe but this is the touch of a Matriarch. « You are strong. » A blunt reminder, the first slip from the usually intense queen. Another low growl, « And, you are welcome. I will watch. » From the bowl, her eyes survey all they can-- extra insurance should Elaruth need to rest. Hraedhyth will keep in contact, hearth offered to the senior queen until after they must go back to High Reaches. And even a little, after that.

There's a stillness to Elise, it can be quite unsettling; she's standing there, poised perfectly in the faint mist of Fort's spring, watching Azaylia calmly as she makes her case, as it were. There's nothing she could do to actually stop the goldrider from progressing, but she certainly acts like there is. When Hraedhyth rumbles only her eyes move, a single flick to bring the queen into view. And then she returns her attention to the woman and says in a clear, lilting voice that's pitched naturally a little low for someone who looks like her, "Come along then. Those will need water." A slow turn, but not all the way, and a little head tilt is an invitation to do just that, come along.

Hraedhyth must have seen the eye-flick, or it could be coincidence that has her stirring the mist with a huff from her snout. It ruffles Azaylia's cloak, the one she pulls tighter against her side with a hand as Elise invites her to follow, "Oh. Thank you, that would be... that's just the thing they need, isn't it?" Relieved, her voice still doesn't rise above that mindful volume, but enough so the young woman will be able to hear. "What's your name?" Long legs have her keeping up with Elise, just a smidge behind her and off to the side.

With introductions made and the flowers arranged in a lovely vase filled with water, Azaylia is careful not to overstay her welcome. She's grateful for Elise's help, and her farewell is both gentle and pleasant as she leaves Hattie's assistant to guard Fort Weyr against anymore flower-laden weyrwomen.