Difference between revisions of "Logs:Soaking It All In"

Hot Springs, High Reaches Area

Even further north than the Weyr itself, a short flight between crags and over crevasses that even a wing-scarred veteran of Fall might undertake, a cluster of clearings lies low in the shelter of hardy trees and ancient stone. The outer two clearings might have been lost to more stubbly trees Turns ago, if it weren't for the centre-most: a natural pool of warm, softly bubbling water several dragonlengths across, with enough space for perhaps a half-dozen people and their lifemates. Though the air is cold all Turn round, and snowdrifts frequently whiten the ground, the geothermal activity heats the mineral-scented water to such a consistently comfortable heat that it becomes a refuge for those who don't wish to travel further afield to wash their dragons.

Of the clearings that abut the spring, the nearest is only a few steps away, though it's small enough that only a few dragons can lounge at once. A steep trail descends to its substantially larger neighbor, a gravel-strewn crescent with enough space to spread out and enjoy the crisp air and the mountain range's admittedly spectacular views.

Fires burn hot, humidly so, just as their very minds might if they were to combine them. Hraedhyth's groan of pleasure may as well be a steady drumroll, black smoke rising with contrasting steam to be caught on Iesaryth's winds. « You should be here. » The image she shares is that of the hot springs, not deserted but not terribly crowded given the rumbles of thunder overhead. This queen fears no storm. (Hraedhyth to Iesaryth)

Water is warm now, as usual, bright and sparkling with sun; though the eggs that supposedly grow inside of her do not yet cause discomfort, all the flying her rider has demanded lest she complain about being trapped later has her wing joints achy. A soak could be nice, and Iesaryth does love being in the water that is so like her mind. « We will come, though it is cold. » Her rider needs her giant hooded robe for flying back the short distance. They'll be a moment. (Iesaryth to Hraedhyth)

Hraedhyth has not been put through such flight exercises, or if she has the older gold is oblivious to it. She sends waves of rippling pleasure through the air, rhythm matching that of her drums. « Good. » She's glad. The bully of a queen has claimed a good chunk of the pool, curled in towards the now-private nook that Azaylia is floating in. Some locks cling to face and shoulders as she leans into the heated water, arms spread out on either side of her with most of her hair floating like inky tendrils. Her clothing is neatly folded on a rock nearby, along with a massively fluffy drying cloth for when she eventually has to get out. Which will be never.

At least there's no snowfall when Iesaryth finally takes flight over the Weyr, winging over to the springs more speedily than might be her wont - that might have something to do with her rider, the chill air. When she lands neatly to let Brieli off, it's a quick thing; she's eager to get into the water, and has no concern about Hraedhyth taking up any of her room. She needs some. Her rider apparently only bothered with the robe alone, a pretty fuzzy lavender thing that she draws the hood back from to offer a smile Azaylia's way before dropping it quickly to follow her queen. "I hate getting out of here when it's like this," she complains, but she's here despite that.

Another groaning rumble leaves Hraedhyth, greeting the other gold as she takes her sweet time in easing further into the pool to give Iesaryth plenty of room. She was saving the spot, much to the annoyance of a green that has to move even further away. Queens. "Yeah." Azaylia answers, lips barely moving. Her arms push at the water, turning her body enough for one eyelid to lift in Brieli's direction. "It's good for the blood, to be warmed up and cooled." It might not be, but she'll take any excuse she can get. "How was your day?" Her eye closes once again, not seeming to care about what parts of her might be visible when.

Iesaryth isn't above nudging Hraedhyth lazily with her nose, around that disgruntled green - move along. Don't be greedy. The green is little, she doesn't need much room. Poke poke poke. Though it's unsurprising that, between the two of the golds, a few pairs decide their time in the springs is over. Wryly, as she gets in up to her neck as fast as she can, Brieli notes, "If you intend on getting out and jumping into the snow, then getting back in, you might have a point. I should have brought some water." It's an afterthought; might have been an idea. Moving over to sit by Azaylia, she's less casual about what's showing - as much due to cold as modesty. "Decent. I did a bit more... research. Were you away?"

Hraedhyth is good natured about the nudging. Her wide muzzle is used to prod Iesaryth back, even as she allows herself to be herded into a more polite position. "I just might." Azaylia doesn't sound as if it's all a joke. There's no fear of that now with her lazy floating. "Research?" Prompting the other weyrwoman to share, not that she's completely unaware of what Brieli has been up to. "Oh, yes." This time both eyes open as she rolls over in the water, knees bending so she's up to her chin and facing her friend. "I was visiting Fort. Hattie. I made her and N'muir's daughter a hat." Judging from the smile it was a pleasant visit. "If we ever have to go to Council," And that's a pretty big If, "We have her vote. Or, don't. She understands, about us and the Weyr." That's what really matters.

Polite is important to Iesaryth; she tries not to take up too much room, for all that it's near impossible for her to do so. She is, at least, accustomed to it, curious at the mention of Fort. « Vhaeryth's ledge is small. » But that doesn't bother her; they fit, if it's a bit tight. She shares the view of the ledges and mountains beyond on a sunny day. Her rider nods slowly. "I wanted to confirm a few things I'd found before I let you know about them. And we're not going to Council." That's resolute from Brieli - that's not happening, no matter what. But she softens after, with a faint smile for the gift, the Fortian Weyrwoman. "But that doesn't surprise me. When I ran into N'muir a few days ago... Well, I know he's not entirely back to duties, but he gave me the same impression. That he understands. I think..." She pauses for a long few moments, dark eyes serious. "I think that some serious damage has been done here, to the idea of what we are, what we do. What treatment we deserve. Maybe they saw that, then. When we couldn't."

« Vhaeryth is small. » Hraedhyth doesn't mean for it to be an insult, not really. He's just a bronze, is all. Smaller than she, and even more so than Iesaryth. She will accept and share her own images of Fort, mostly that of the bowl and the people she may have harassed today. "Oh, okay." Azaylia accepts the answer, making no attempt to pry unless Brieli wants to share. She trusts her. Her motions in the overheated water are slow, lazily moving back and forth a few feet in front of the still goldrider. "Maybe." She's less serious, until, "It feels good to at least know that we have Fort's support in what we're trying to do." Which is, keeping their Weyr from exploding.

« Not so small that the ledge need to be that small. » After all, Iesaryth visits and there is much moving around and arranging. It would be nicer to avoid that. And you know, clearly Fort should be concerned with Iesaryth's comfort while her rider is off 'visiting'. Brieli's hair is predictably piled atop her head; she readjusts a few strands lest they get wet. Who would want that? Dryly, with a wrinkle of her nose for Azaylia, "At least we have someone's. I know they say it's not necessarily us, but honestly. It's like we didn't hold things together all this time. And K'del... he's acting like he never left. As if he has the right." She shakes her head, tone clearly irritated. A pause, before, voice lowered a touch, "I looked through the records and confirmed it in a few places. There have been two women who were acting Weyrleader in High Reaches' past. A brownrider and a greenrider. Both appointed by the Weyrwoman."

Hraedhyth will give the bright dragon that much. Iesaryth's comfort is very important to her, and only now will she have sympathy for Vhaeryth's small ledge. Azaylia is Brieli's opposite, as usual. Her wet hair left to tangle and drift as she comes to a sudden stop at the bronzerider's name. "He said the cruelest things." It comes out in a little whisper, a hint of the numbness felt during that encounter. She doesn't mean to delve into her memories, gaze somewhat unfocused even as it turns to the other woman. "Really?" That comes as a surprise, though Azaylia herself has been delving into the records. Not looking for that, obviously. "We can just do that then. We've already had a woman brownrider as Acting Weyrleader." She's only repeating the new information to fully soak in the relief. A solution. Possibly, except, "H'kon. We have two riders who want to be Acting." There's a furrow to her brow now, one that had begun at remembering K'del.

Iesaryth seems to appreciate it, though she's certainly comfortable now, enough to start to drift and doze in the warm water. Brieli, however, is wide-eyed and paying full attention to Azaylia now, deadly serious. "He said something to you? What did he say?" she almost demands, brows drawing together, expression somewhere between concerned and displeased - though certainly not with Azaylia. "And really. I can show you my notes and where they are both. It's happened before and no one died, nothing fell apart." As for H'kon, the brownrider's name brings a grimace. "You know what? He's been talking to K'del, he only wants to be Acting because he doesn't want Taikrin to have it. Do you want someone reluctant, who might be actually working against us in charge of the wings? I don't trust him. Not if he's in with that lot of bronzeriders."

Azaylia catches the other woman's expression and whimpers, "Brieli, no. I said some mean things too..." She insists, however quietly. Still, she was asked a question, "He told me to grow up. To not speak 'that way' about Iolene." Whatever that means. "It wasn't the things he said, but how. I should stop thinking about it so much." She sinks down so that her bottom lip is nearly covered, but not quite as she's able to murmur. "I spent the whole night calming Bones down. He was ready to-- well he's calm now." Ahem. The weyrwoman ease back to try and float some of the newfound tension from her body, closing her eyes as she considers Brieli's words. "If he is in with them," And it sounds as if she's convinced of it, "Then pushing him aside might make things worse. We could make Taikrin Acting Weyrleader, and H'kon as Weyrsecond?" She looks over to watch for any reaction to her own suggestion. The troubled look returns after a moment, jumbled thoughts causing her conversation follow suit. "K'del did say something that confused me..." So much for not worrying about it so much.

The other goldrider's protests to little to quell whatever Brieli's feeling right now, dark eyes flinty, expression still stormy, as much as she tries to make it neutral. "There's no call for him to treat you poorly. What have you done to him? You might look at things a bit simplistically sometimes..." Sometimes. "But he didn't have to say it that way. You've been doing what you need to do." It's not said to make Azaylia feel better or coddle - it's matter-of-fact. "I don't blame Bones, but tell him to watch is fists lest he ends up back in the mines, yes? I have no interest in that, but someone will demand it if he doesn't keep away from fighting any more." The suggestion has her pause, and she'll consider it; reluctantly, "We can offer it. But he may not accept it. That's up to him." As for the last, faintly curious, "Oh?"

"It's embarrassing. I said he hated me. He said I hated him... embarrassing." Azaylia is self aware enough to realize how she acted, not that she's rushing to the bronzerider's defense, either. "What's worse is that he's right. I need to grow up." Her voice trembles, "I'm figuring out how." There's a soft nod for the warning about her weyr-roommate, "He knows." She probably made sure to tell him as such. Floating does no good, muscles beginning to tense the more the talk, and she straightens back up. The goldrider smooths long locks back with both hands, sighing, "We should give H'kon the chance. If he doesn't want it, then that's his business. Taikrin wants it more." She's inching towards Brieli now, looking to get close enough to be heard without completely invading the other woman's space. Inhaling deeply, it's as if she's preparing for the worst, "He said, 'Brieli did me a favor, when she told me'. He flew away before I could ask." Brown eyes settle on her fellow goldrider's face, "What did you tell him?"

It takes Brieli some time to answer, at first, some time to choose her words. "I don't know if that's the way to put it. You have things to learn. I suppose everyone does. Saying it like that is demeaning. As if, because you're younger, you can't possibly know." She doesn't know the whole of it - but she's inclined to be on Azaylia's side anyway. There's a purse of her lips of Barnabas, as if she's still not too sure about the gardener, but she leaves it alone. "Taikrin wants it at all. I think... I don't know. Perhaps if we impress upon her the importance of being reasonable, she'll surprise everyone. And I feel like we've given H'kon enough chances, but if you like. He doesn't like me, though. And I suspect he doesn't actually want me anywhere near Weyrwoman." It bothers her, makes her jaw set - but the last question has her blinking a few times. Again, she pauses before, "Something Iolene told me, that I thought he should know. I knew it would hurt him, but it wasn't my secret to keep anymore."

"You're younger than I am and you're better at being Weyrwoman. Everyone can see that." Azaylia agrees that age doesn't matter much, in her own way. She doesn't move away, voice appropriately softened given their private conversation in a public place. Not that there's much public left, thanks to their sizeable dragons. "Something is going to happen. The bronzeriders, the people who hate what's happening, they won't stay quiet forever. I don't want to do anything that gives them excuse." And so, she will do her best to maintain balance between both brownriders if possible. "I think that's a good idea. Sometimes I think it's not that she's a woman, or a brownrider, but that it's... Taikrin." It's not very fair, which of couse bothers Azaylia. Almost as much as Brieli's answer, startled by the lack of any real information, "It hurt him. Why?" She's sitting up a bit taller, shoulders peeking out of the water, "Is it something I should know, Brieli?" It's less of a question than it sounds.

With a wrinkle of her nose, "Not everyone would say that. Certainly not K'del." Brieli is sure of that, no matter what he's said to Azaylia. Her own voice stays low, but she's intense enough when she's trying to make a point, like now: "You know how you can't make everyone happy? It's like that. If people want to find an excuse to complain, they will. Even if we bent over backwards to make everything perfect for them, someone else would be unhappy. K'del and his lot will be unhappy unless we appoint him Lord and apologize for letting our dragons be caught by lesser beasts. And why should Taikrin's past suddenly matter more than anyone else's? She protected us, put herself on the line to be sure we wouldn't be hurt. Who else stepped up for that but your wing, and mostly the women of your wing at that?" It takes her a moment to de-rant, take a short breath - drifting to the side of the pool to stick her hand in snow, hold her cooled fingers against her flushed cheeks, "It's nothing that matters anymore to anyone but him. Don't worry about it. He was probably just angry with me." A short sigh. "Let's talk about something else, before bed. I'm sick of all of it, of them. Let's figure out what we'll do with ourselves when we're stuck here. Aside from work."

Brieli is free to rant, and during the expressive display, Azaylia will give a silent nod here and there. There aren't a lot of points to argue with, as far as she's concerned. "Every dragon is important." Voice is firm, something that she will never be swayed on. Bronzes have no more claim than browns. Her pride in Glacier, the women of the wing, is squashed as the other weyrwoman manages to give her another not-answer. With thinning lips, her gaze hardens with determination that is knocked over at Brieli's request. "O-oh. Okay. I..." Still hesitant, she decides to leave it alone. For now. "I understand. I'm sorry, I know it seems like we don't to talk about anything else." She'll fix that, turning the conversation towards shared Sands, and possibly catching up on a few books. If not that, there's always knitting and sewing. It might take a while, but soon Azaylia will lose the troubled look as the two talk until it's time to brave the cold air and head home.

"Don't apologize. I really can't either." Brieli's wry for that. "But it won't help us get any sleep." She might seem apologetic, but she seems to appreciate the shift in conversation - even if Azaylia's determination seems to only let her off the hook for now.