Difference between revisions of "Logs:Relating news"

An errant-seeming swirl of golden sand bumps into one of those many bugs of the bronze's, particles of sand grating just enough to be felt/noticed. (To Rasavyth from Ilicaeth)

The ooze burbles. It's a sleepy sound that's as soothing as a whistle of winds rushing gently past sheer stone's face. (To Ilicaeth from Rasavyth)

The dust whirl forms into a sustained circulation, the small gyre continuing to bounce and swirly grittily atop the surface of the ooze. (To Rasavyth from Ilicaeth)

« Yeees? » comes Rasavyth's tired tenor. It is paired with the sensation of one eye being opened while the rest of him continues to try to rest. (To Ilicaeth from Rasavyth)

Ilicaeth launches right into it, his gritty baritone as fast and clipped as his rider's voice. « Jhorinth is pissed off about somethin'...and Olveraeth 'n Iesaryth told him ta' shut up *really* quick. » Thereafter comes the sensations of what their bronze clutchmate shared with Ilicaeth before the elder blue and gold purposely silenced him. The memory of the communique with Jhorinth, between ALL of them, while Rasavyth was snoozing: Dragon> To High Reaches dragons, Jhorinth is the strident clang of forge and frustrated vent of bellows, overheard by too many: « I told you this was a bad idea! » Anyone's guess on who he's talking to. Dragon> There's attention from a clutchsib, but he answers back on a narrow band, dry and swirling sands condensing into a golden dust devil. « Whazzup? » (To Jhorinth from Ilicaeth) Dragon> To Ilicaeth, Jhorinth is disgruntled and angry, bifrost bisected to show only the spectrum of RED: red everywhere, dripping bright and dark and every color in between, hit over and over by the darkness of the forge, beaten and battered. He's silent, against his own will. (To Rasavyth from Ilicaeth)

To Rasavyth, Ilicaeth projects «

• Dragon> To High Reaches dragons, Olveraeth is there, abruptly, and there are no stars in the heavens tonight: « You are shutting your mouth, right now. » That's an order. He'll get mom to enforce it if he needs to, too.

• Dragon> « Please. » Iesaryth is polite, yes - but her request has an urgency that backs up that order, the waves washing high on the beach. Listen to Olveraeth. (To High Reaches dragons from Iesaryth)

• Dragon> A storm of winds brings forth super-chilled aether from the darkness above Pern's blue-cast skies. « Bad idea... but yield so much. » A recalcitrant whisper, counter to Olveraeth's command for the moment anarchy breaches common sense. Until Athimeroth is shut down. (To High Reaches dragons from Athimeroth)

• Dragon> He's well-aware what broad-band messages can attract, by now, and Ilicaeth grumbles some as both Olveraeth's and Iesaryth's edicts get handed down to Jhorinth and them all...but *he* got his question in *first*. The bronze's angry, dripping redness of many shades examined like a cop would a murder scene. After a few moments, a grey-dusted swirl bumps lightly against the bronze's forge, inquires grittily, « Mind if I have a look? » Through that tiny fraction of Jhorinth's mind that contains the memory of what just transpired. « Give you my word I won't do anything else. » And, once given, Ilicaeth's word is worth a world of others' promises. (To Jhorinth from Ilicaeth)

• Dragon> To Ilicaeth, Jhorinth /can't/, constrained by water-shackles composed by his dam's words; there is only the red, and the heat, and the forge-fueled anger. « Maybe later, » is all he CAN give. Dragon> Ever pragmatic, « Olveraeth said shut your mouth. They didn't say someone else couldn't take a looksee, if they already knew. » (To Jhorinth from Ilicaeth) »

Something's going down somewhere, and the cop in Ilicaeth is not pleased. « He refused ta answer me after that. » (To Rasavyth from Ilicaeth)

There is a moment of silence. « I did not snooze. » is the first notation that Rasavyth offers, « I shall let you know what I find out. Thank you for sharing, Ilicaeth. » The bronze's response is cordial, not sharing the same drive to track down the details at this moment. This moment is for sleeping, and to sleep he returns. (To Ilicaeth from Rasavyth)

Apparently Ilicaeth's the do-er now-er, his associate the schemer-for-tomorrow. At least he got it downloaded into the long-memoried bronze's brain. (To Rasavyth from Ilicaeth)