Difference between revisions of "Logs:Seamonsters and Treasurekeepers"

Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr

The rest of the bowl may be barren, grass barely surviving at best, but here by the lake, it's brilliantly green in the warmer months: thickening and thriving in the silty, boulder-dotted soil just before it transitions to soft sand and thence to the cool, clear water itself.

A large freshwater lake fed by a low waterfall, it not only provides warm-weather bathing space for humans and dragons, but has one end fenced off as a watering hole for the livestock in the feeding grounds. The water there is often muddier than the rest of the clear lake, whose shallows drop off abruptly several yards out into deep water, and whose edge undulates against the coarse-hewn bowl wall: here close enough to just be bramble-covered rocks, there far enough away that a narrow land bridge divides the main lake from a smallish pond. Between are several rocky outcroppings that form excellent makeshift diving points, though only one -- across the bridge -- has a set of narrow, slippery, quite possibly tempting stairs.

After a miserable spring, perpetually cool and damp, the longer days of summer are a definite improvement. This particular afternoon is warm and fine, and more than a few High Reachians have used it as an excuse to skive off work - or rearrange their schedules - in order to get out and enjoy it. The lake shore is overrun by people, in groups and alone; in the middle of it, Madilla is a beacon of calm, sitting comfortably on a towel with her legs crossed beneath her. Her toddler, Dilan, is sitting at her feet with a bucket of sand, while the elder of her children - five turn old Lilabet - is at the water's edge, lost in some quiet game of her own.

Windswept curls do their best to blind the young woman as she walks along the sandy beach, leggings pulled and barely visible, tan legs darkening in the sun. Azaylia suffers from a case of no-boots, sizeable footprints leaving a trail for no one in particular to follow. Squinting between inky black locks, the apprentice is clearly all smiles, close to skipping if not for the dented, absolutely ancient pail in her hand. She continues her trend of bucket-carrying near bodies of water; pausing near Lilabet to stand on sandy tiptoes and see what she's up to. Mamabird has yet to be seen.

Lilabet seems to be involved in some kind of game of imagination because as she catches sight of Azaylia, one slender finger lifts to her mouth to indicate quiet. "The sea-monsters will wake up," she explains, in a breathy undertone. "And then they might eat us all." /She/, evidently, means to wade a short way out into the water to try and reach down and grab at a pebble beneath her, breath held and expression one of absolute concentration. Back on the shore, Madilla's suddenly got her arms full of toddler; distracted, she misses Azaylia's arrival, and Lilabet's water-wade.

Azaylia's smile doesn't falter as Lilabet reveals her game, though she tries to stifle it for the sake of immersion. Salt tickles her lips as the apprentice mirrors the five turn old, grin not at all hidden by her hovering digit. The arm drops distractedly as Lilabet boldly wades forward, pail weighted down with enough treasure to settle firmly in the sand as it's left and forgotten. Azaylia's not yet scooping the child out of the surf, but the apprentice is certainly hovering, water splashing at her legs and hands at the ready. "I've got shinier pebbles in my bucket..." Words are uttered gently, what with the sea-monsters and all.

It's true that Lilabet is probably not supposed to venture into the water alone, but for the moment, at least, she seems safe enough: her pebble is rescued, and then, with exaggerated care, she turns to wade back again, shaking her head dismissively. "Oh no," she says, coming to a halt with the water up to her ankles. "This-- the one I've got-- that's the seamonster's treasure! It won't care about your pebbles. But with mine, I can bind it f'rever and ever." Her eyes are shining: it's clearly a very real game to her. "Wanna help?"

Azaylia has enough sense not to be crouching like an overprotective wherryhen by the time Lilabet straightens up. Once she turns to head back towards land, the apprentice is quick to put herself between the lake and child, subconciously herding towards the safer shallow. "Oh?" Neck cranes despite her obvious height advantage, getting a better look at that treasure. "Goodness." The awe isn't completely phoned in, Azaylia clearly impressed by the young one's imagination. "Do I ever..!" Once again the sentiment is genuine. "I have a little spiderclaw in my bucket, he's got /the/ prettiest shell. He could maybe guard the treasure?" Whispered words are quick, excited, as Lilabet leads her back to the beach.

Entranced by the prospect of having someone to play pretend with, Lilabet doesn't even seem to notice that she's being herded out of the water - and the mention of that spiderclaw has her paying attention to Azaylia's bucket for the first time. "That sounds perfect," asserts the child, beaming, as she drops into a kneeling position on the sand, her light skirt clinging, sandily, to her legs as she does so. "The seamonster will never defeat it, ever, ever, ever. Do you think we need to bury the pebble to make sure he can't find it?" By this point, Madilla has seen the pair: should either of them glance in her direction, even by chance, they'd see her watchful, if pleased, eye.

Who's ever been afraid of rejection from a five turn old? Azaylia, that's who! "Oh, good. We might have to make a little pen to keep him in, or else he'll try to scuttle away." Not that she'd wish anything unsavory unto the little fellow who would have been released after her frolicking. The herder retrieves her bucket which is filled with sand as well as other pretty things, shells and pebbles and the blue-shelled spiderclaw flailing his limbs in an attempt to intimidate. As Azaylia straightens, she catches Madilla's gaze and gives a bashful though beaming smile as she turns back to Lilabet. "But if we bury it, will /we/ be able to find it again?"

Madilla's expression is amused, as she catches Azaylia, but she nods contentedly: there will be no concerns from that quarter. Lilabet's frown is thoughtful as she leans in to closer examine the spiderclaw, clearly utterly unintimidated by his limbs, however clawed. "Well, maybe," she allows. "Maybe not. If we pen them together, though, with the other stones, then he won't be able to get away, and no one will be able to get in, either. So the monster won't be able to steal his treasure back." The idea clearly excites her, because the smile she aims up at Azaylia is a beaming, gap-toothed one.

Azaylia doesn't try to stifle her giggles, easily mistaken for excitement that they're brilliant plan is coming together. She's not laughing at how cute Lilabet is, or anything. Hand fearlessly reaches into her bucket, fishing for their guardbeast who tries to pinch, ineffective with how tiny his claws are. "I've got shells and some tall rocks we can use- oh! We can also dig a moat around the pen. Just in case." Azaylia's concern with safety trancends even make-believe, pinching the fabric of her skirt and hiking it up as she kneels in the wet sand. The best fun is always messy fun, after all!

Lilabet would probably argue strenuously against being considered cute; thankfully, she has failed to register the difference between kinds of giggles, and is all earnestness as, nodding, she begins digging into the sand with both hands. "A moat! I like that. Otherwise, the seamonster might use the lake to bring his treasure back to him. I bet he'd be tricksy like that, don't you think?" The 'treasure' is set carefully in the middle of the space she's marking out, and given a satisfied glance.

Azaylia only hesitates long enough to realize that the child's hands make her work-roughened palms look even larger than they are. She gives herself a moment to internally weep at her freakish size before putting those fleshy shovels to use in constructing the other side of the moat. "He has to be tricksy," She echoes, laughter stifled this time. "If he weren't, then everyone would know about him and his treasure. You had to tell me, remember?" Freshwater spiderclaw is deposited next to the pebble, too stunned at the change of scenery to do much but wiggle his eyestalks. "You should give him a name." Azaylia prompts, gently.

"True," allows Lilabet. "I only knew 'cause I had to be the one to undertake the mission. You know how sometimes you just know that you have to do something, 'cause if you don't, no one else will and it will be horrible?" Her belief in the game is audible in her tone; it's visible in her face, too, her expression beatific. The spiderclaw is given a long glance; Lily admits, finally, "I've never really got to name anything before. What are good names? How do you decide?"

Azaylia's gaze softens as Lilabet explains, her motions slowing only slightly as her attention remains on the little girl. "I absolutely do, yes." Voice is a touch more breathless than usual, "You're very... you know more than you think. Oh!" Sudden surprise coaxes a squeak from the young woman, "Speaking of names. I'm Azaylia." As for their azure guardcrustacean, she mulls it over for a bit longer while her hand circularly slices through the beginnings of their moat. "Could give him a name because of how he looks? Or what he's supposed to do. Like... Monstercrusher." A quiet gasp. "Oh, but that sounds so violent..."

Lilabet is visibly pleased with Azaylia's reaction to her explanation, and gives the Apprentice a beaming smile. "I think it's important to listen, when you realise something like that. Don't you? I'm Lily. Lilabet, really, but most people call me Lily. It's nice to meet you, Azaylia." That last sentence is tacked on at the end after a guilty glance in her mother's direction; she almost forgot. "Monstercrusher is definitely too violent." She lets sand slip through her fingers, considering the crustacean thoughtfully. "We'll call him Treasurekeeper."

"Oh what an absolutely lovely name. My mother's name is Lilhee," Phonetically similar, at least. "Wellmet, Lily. And yes, it's very important to listen." Both enthralled and delighted by her much smaller companion, she gives delicate nod of her head. "Treasurekeeper is a perfect name. Not mean and nasty at all." He clearly had issue with it, if his sand-flinging and claw-waving was to be understood. Though the attempts at being menacing just had Azaylia cooing at the tiny thing as she worked alongside Lilabet in the summer sun.