Difference between revisions of "Logs:They're Gone"

Another coating of snow has settled itself over the bowl; over the trees of the grove and their branches. The snow is so recent that, in many places, it lies without blemish, but /here/ there's evidence of pacing or of many people walking the same path. Given the footprints are all about the same size and bear the same patterns of boot tracks, it's more likely to be the former. Even more so because Hattie is the only one present in the grove, the Weyrwoman sat on one of the benches, having swept away the snow with the sleeve of her coat. And so she waits. Until: « Hattie would speak with your rider, Khiabeth. She is by the trees near the lake. » Elaruth /calls/ and the request is made.

Snow means cold, and it also means it's difficult to hang out in the bowl. Instead, Khiabeth is settled in her weyr, dozing while her rider does... something she's not interested in. Elaruth's voice rouses her, curiosity spiked by the request. « She will come, » the green replies, after a pause. She doesn't specify /when/, but there's a sense the green is stretching slowly in preparation for flight, a faint sense of disgruntlement that is not the green's own. It's probably about ten minutes later when the small dragon sweeps over the grove, turning sharply and landing on the lake shore. Reesa, not a fan of the cold, is wrapped up tightly in a thick coat, crunching through the snow with an expression of uncertainty, slowing as she spots the Weyrwoman. "You asked for me, Weyrwoman?"

« Thank you. » Elaruth is not inside, but up on the rim of the bowl, watching the progress of the sluggish, ice-heavied water down the mountainside, though she spares a few moments to observe Khiabeth's flight from her weyr to the shore of the lake. "Yes," Hattie confirms, if only for the sake of assuring that Elaruth has not acted without her input or knowledge. She remains on her perch on the edge of the table, watching Reesa's approach with an eye that suggests she's clocked that uncertainty. "I need you to tell me something, Reesa." She hesitates, perhaps reconsidering, but then continues on. "I need you to tell me if this image is accurate." It's only a fraction of a second before Elaruth is offering Khiabeth an image that picks out a not so obvious chain of caves from rough terrain; a chain of caves that ought to be familiar to Reesa.

Reesa adjusts her position after a squint-eyed look upwards, as if the snow is somehow offending her. The fact that her arms are folded over her chest has more to do with the cold than any body language. "Okay," she says, head tilted, waiting for Hattie to explain, brow furrowing at the Weyrwoman's hesitation. As she speaks of an image, the greenrider's head turns slightly to glance in Khiabeth's direction: the green is still on the lake shore, but crouched, like she might leap aloft at any moment. Reesa's expression goes momentarily blank, gaze distant: the press of her lips is telling as her gaze focuses on Hattie. "It's accurate enough." She doesn't ask /where/ Hattie got it - she can probably /guess/.

"Would you permit Khiabeth to use it?" It's a simple question and not, the slight arch of an eyebrow adding the meaning Hattie would imbue it with. Would she /risk/ Khiabeth with it? There's little weight to the words; she could be asking Reesa how long she expects winter will linger.

A slight pause. "No," Reesa replies, with a lift of chin, before she adds, "I won't go back there." /Now/ the fold of her arms is defiant: does Hattie /expect/ her to?

Hattie regards Reesa much like one might a toddler refusing to finish their dinner, her defiance patiently dismissed as she considers how best to rephrase her question. "That is to say, would you expect to be lost Between, were you to use it? Would you rest your life - and Khiabeth's - in its care?" Only then does she let curiosity get the better of her, something bitter driving her enquiry. "Why /not/?" Crisp and carefully enunciated, to the point of sharpness all too plain.

It's clear from Reesa's surprised expression that that's the last thing she would've thought Hattie was asking. "N'rad would never give you the wrong image." Which she thinks is answer enough in itself: /her/ trust in her clutchmate is absolute. Her mouth thins into something sharp: it doesn't look like she'll answer the latter question for a moment, until she asks in turn, "How many times have you willingly been back to /Boll/ lately?"

"If it was N'rad." Is it that she's unwilling to sell out N'rad or credit him with having - supposedly - got something right? "So, your life in that image's hands because of its accuracy or assumed origin? There's quite the difference." And if Hattie casts a long look back to Elaruth, sitting up on the rim and ignoring them entirely, it must be a coincidence. Pride demands that she snap, "Perhaps fewer times than I expect you did while your friends made their feelings clear to me and my junior."

"Either, or," Reesa's not so worried about /that/: it's the latter accusation that has the greenrider putting hands on her hips, aggrieved. She stamps her foot, though it's muffled on the snow-covered ground. "My /friends/ are my clutchmates, and they are /here/."

Hattie positively could not look less unimpressed by the stamp of that foot. "Not your wingmates, then? Not anyone else? Not the weyrlings you're /trusted/ with?" she presses, still in that cold, ever so even tone of voice. "If they are your only loyalty, then it's no wonder..." She gives a shake of her head and slips down from the bench, smoothing her coat down. "Well then. This /has/ been informative."

Reesa can't help it: there's a roll of her eyes at Hattie's words. "You're clearly set to believe what you want to believe of me. You were talking about the caves, and those with them: I was making it clear who I trusted out of that lot." A breath, before she goes on, "But if you want to put words into my mouth, I can see your mind is already made up about me. If you're going to throw me out of the Weyr, at least do so for something I've /done/, not something you've made up in your head about me because you can no longer get at those that are /truly/ responsible." She's angry, and it shows in the stiff lines of her body, watching Hattie expectantly.

"I don't know what they promised you. If you were that desperate to Impress and have Khiabeth in your life, whatever your reasons, I can't slight you for wanting /her/," Hattie admits, albeit in a hard tone that refuses to yield as much as her words do. "It would be better if you didn't put ideas in people's heads. /You've/ made quite the assumption there yourself. I wouldn't push your luck, unless your intent is for me to do as you suggest?" She takes a few steps forward through the snow, like she might walk straight past Reesa and on through to the bowl proper. "I don't have to make things up when your devotion reveals quite enough," she says lowly, tipping her head back to study the walls of the bowl.

There's a reluctance and an unnatural, heavy weight to Elaruth's usually bright and insubstantial touch when she reaches for Maldoranth, though her mental voice is as quiet as ever. « Hattie asks for you and your rider. She is with Khiabeth's rider near the trees by the shore. » (To Maldoranth from Elaruth)

"I can only imagine that you've made your feelings on me clear enough, given the Weyrleader took the time to ask whether you'd been asking after me. He seemed /concerned/." For Reesa? For Hattie? The greenrider doesn't elaborate. "I want to stay here, but I've done nothing since arriving to make you treat me like a criminal, and yet..." she spreads her hands. "I'm not going to walk on broken glass to prove my loyalty, nor am I going to justify myself when your mind is made up. Neither am I apologizing for my friendship with N'rad and Serah."

To Elaruth, Maldoranth is rather reserved in his reply. That is, even more than usual. There is little transmitted by way of speech, rather a sense of compliance, stark in its lack of any of the usual draconic colorings.

Hattie's little smirk contains nothing but that bitterness, the harsh huff as she exhales sharply lending the shake of her head an edge of disappointment more than anything. "Believe it or not, I've not found the time to discuss my feelings for you with the Weyrleader, but thank you for letting me know." Businesslike. "The mere circumstance of her raising are--" And then, suddenly: "Enough. We can stand here and talk in metaphors and tell each other what we think the other thinks or we can do something constructive. N'rad should be on his way here now." At the edge of the tree line, she waits, watching for bronze wings.

Reesa's expression goes harder at the implication the talk was turning towards Khiabeth- it's perhaps timely that it isn't finished. The green seems to have some of her rider's agitation, crouched on the lake shore as close to the grove as she could safely land, tailtip twitching. If anything, Reesa seems /more/ unhappy at Hattie's latter words, turning to look, too.

Lightning buzzes through Khiabeth's thoughts, mollified only somewhat by the expectation that Maldoranth approaches. « Their minds are already made up about us. » (To Maldoranth from Khiabeth)

Maldoranth does not keep them waiting long, his dark hide soon in easy evidence above as he makes a tight circuit of the bowl before landing several dragonlengths away. And there he stays, while his rider dismounts. N'rad's approach is far less... prompt. Having been confined largely to his quarters ever since bumping into Hattie at the wedding celebration, it would seem he's stopped paying all that much attention to his appearance. While unable to grow a full beard, his scruffy face is borderline ridiculous, and his rumpled clothes have likely spent the last little while in a pile. But he /is/ dressed. And he even bathed recently, luckily for the women. Once he's close enough, he regards Reesa for a long moment, his pained expression obvious. It only gets worse when he turns toward Hattie, saluting.

His response to Elaruth was stark, void of any emotion, but when he reaches toward Khiabeth, some of the smoldering fire is allowed to leak across their link. « That has always been the case, » he replies, voice a low rumble of discontent that is just barely held it check. (To Khiabeth from Maldoranth)

Taking in N'rad's appearance, Hattie can't hide her grimace, nor the flicker of hesitation in dark eyes as she likely reconsiders having summoned him. But no. "N'rad," is polite enough, "we're going to go on a little journey. I've been assured that the image you provided is useable and safe, but if you've any doubt about trusting yourself to it, I suggest you tell us now." It's clear just from the nature of her tone that she is not making a request, but giving a command. "We can throw blame around for the foreseeable future, or we can actually do something productive."

Reesa's expression is a mixture of concerned and protective as she studies N'rad's appearance, her mouth drawing down into a thin line. A few steps take her over to N'rad's side, a pointed show of support as she turns her attention on the Weyrwoman. When she speaks, the greenrider goes deadly still for a moment before breathing out: there's a slight unsteadiness to her cast as she looks sidelong at N'rad. Her body language makes it crystal clear she doesn't want to go /there/, but- her words are for Hattie: "I don't know what you think this will accomplish. If you're going to force is to go there, though, you should at least lift your restriction on Maldoranth after, when you see he's been nothing but honest with you." Her tone is protective, and she's not trying to hide it.

For a moment, N'rad looks as if he doesn't entirely believe Hattie. There is a frown, and a self-conscious brush at what little stubble he's been able to grow, then a more guarded look as he turns to Reesa. There is a small smile of thanks for her support. Adam's apple bobs, then he faces Hattie again, answering simply, "We'll go." He gathers himself to stand a little straighter, then takes a deep breath. "We'll do whatever you ask," he adds to Hattie, this time trying very hard /not/ to look at Reesa again.

"I think it's quite clear what it will accomplish," Hattie claims, gaze lifting to track Elaruth's path from beside the waterfall to a landing nearby. "I need them to be gone. You don't want to go there and /claim/ no loyalty to them, which suggests you want them to be gone too. So, we can go and look or we can continue this endless cycle." She glances between Reesa and N'rad, something uncomfortable lurking in her expression. "As for /honest/--" She leaves that squarely in their hands to sort out between them, more content to step back from suggesting anything else when she notes N'rad's compliance. "Thank you, N'rad," the Weyrwoman murmurs.

Reesa doesn't look all that happy, especially when N'rad agrees: her mouth presses together, her silence to be taken as compliance for the time being- oddly allowing N'rad to speak for them.

A quivering tension can be felt in Khiabeth's thoughts: a reflection of Reesa's mood, or her own, or both. A reluctant compliance, like a leaf being pulled inadvertantly along. (To Maldoranth from Khiabeth)

N'rad does look over to Reesa again, finally, though it's an apologetic look. While he might owe her an explanation of some sort, Hattie's expression forestalls it, right before she mentions the word "honest". "When are we leaving?" It's a strained tone that matches the tightness in his own expression.

Smoldering emotions briefly fan to anger, though less /at/ anyone, more on his rider's behalf. Maldoranth's voice quietly echos N'rad's word of "leave", distant and cavernous. It is soon swallowed by the darkness in the dragon's own mind. « We must move forward, » he interprets quietly for his remaining clutchmate. « It is that, or lie down and die. We are not done living just yet. » (To Khiabeth from Maldoranth)

"Now," Hattie states. "The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can move on." Or so she hopes. "This could all be over in minutes." Theoretically, but that's the story she's selling and telling herself, as she starts across to Elaruth, whose very posture conveys just how unhappy she is with this turn of events. Her eyes whirling in pale, worried shades, the little queen settles so as to let her rider grab a hold on her straps. "...If they've contacted either of you since the day they 'left'... Now would be the time to share," Hattie suggests, turning with her foot braced against leather.

A low exhale from Reesa; she seems to be trying to make a concerted effort to regain her equilibrium. The 'now' is less of a surprise: the greenrider seemed to expect that. She lifts a hand briefly near N'rad's arm, not quite touching, an attempt at reassurance as she crunches in the snow towards Khiabeth. Hattie's latter words make her hesitate a moment, but it's with a certain voice that she states: "They're gone."

N'rad's only answer is to shake his head, though whether it is to Reesa or Hattie is unclear. Then he makes his way toward the menacingly lurking Maldoranth, whose own eyes are whirling in vibrant shades of yellow-tinted orange. It would appear he's not particularly pleased with the setup, either. The rider straps on his riding helmet, which had been hooked to the bronze's straps, then makes his way up to Mal's shoulders where he clips in and closes his eyes. A moment later, Maldoranth shares (if reluctantly) the same image shared with Elaruth before. Not that Khiabeth needs it.

As she sets about buckling her straps, there's a moment when Hattie looks sick to her stomach, but trembling hands are forced to work, much as any hint of a tremor is forced from her voice. She slants a odd look over at Reesa for that certainty, but doesn't question its source. Not now. Too unsettled to bother with anything but her goggles, she tucks her braided hair into the hood of her jacket, anchoring it down, then calls out a simple, "Let's go," as Elaruth shifts her weight to spring skywards.

The image is reinforced by Khiabeth- the green is certain of the image even if there's a quivering sensation of an impending storm in the green's thoughts. Reesa's already rugged up for the cold weather: it suits for between, too, and so she's quickly ready, apparently just as keen to have this over as the others. A silent command has the green shooting up with the speed of her small size, rising quickly higher, impatient for the others to be ready to head between.

Elaruth's reluctance manifests itself not in any deliberate slowness in her pursuit of Khiabeth up into the skies, but in the leeching of her usual evident affection and gentleness from her mental touch. She levels out high over the Weyr, wings stretched to catch and depend on what thermal currents winter offers, and so much does she take shelter in her faith in her rider that it makes her unusually abrupt, Hattie's tones borrowed for, « Now. We go. » Now or never. One moment there; the next gone.

Circling briefly, Khiabeth takes up a position on Maldoranth's right. On that first beat of /now/, the green vanishes between. Hard to tell whether it's her normal impatience or Reesa's eagerness to have this done with. One, two, three beats, and they emerge high above the caves that Maldoranth supplied the image of. Khiabeth circles down, angling for a landing on the rocky underfoot. It's dead quiet, no sound other than the beat of their dragons wings.

More reluctant to land, due partly to the nature of the rocky stuff beneath Khiabeth's paws, Elaruth circles over the caves a time or two, the sense of her /reaching/ out one that's hard to ignore as she casts her mind about in a more clumsy fashion than usual, owing to the fact that, well, they're not dead. Of course, it's the desired outcome, but the relief is almost as palpable as shock might be. « ...I do not... hear anything... » she shares with Maldoranth and Khiabeth, as she drifts down to land. « ...I think. » Shaken enough that doubt creeps in.

There's no verbal response from Khiabeth, though the pressure of the impending storm in her thoughts is noteable. While Reesa's dismounted, she hasn't stepped away from her green yet, leaning against the small dragon, hands folded together against herself, watching the Weyrwoman, waiting expectantly. /She/ expects that there's nothing to find: she just has to wait for the senior pair to come to that conclusion, too. The greenrider's eyes are wide, flicking over to take measure of N'rad's demeanor, too.

Little of anything has come from the bronze pair, though they also hesitate before following Khiabeth down to find a suitable landing. However, Maldoranth knows exactly where he can touch down and still have room to maneuver, though it means N'rad has to climb slightly to get up to where Reesa and Khiabeth stand. He also glances skyward for a moment, taking stock of Elaruth's whereabouts as the gold finds her own landing. Maldoranth's reply to the gold holds an edge of chill, though it could just as well be due to the jump between. « As promised. » Darkness still infuses his mindvoice, though there is a core of white-hot heat at its very center, kept tightly under control. N'rad's voice, meanwhile, has just a hint of gloom. "Weird to be back."

Hattie isn't anything like quick to slide down from Elaruth's straps, but dismount she does, keeping one hand pressed to pale gold hide even when her feet touch the ground. "Well... That's one thing established." Though she doesn't sound too sure about that. She makes no effort to step any closer to Reesa or N'rad, her focus distant until the moment that she tips her head back to stare up at her queen, who informs Maldoranth, « Nothing was promised, » with a chill of her own, Hattie's inflections still dominating her voice. "There's no reason to stay, unless you wish to," the Weyrwoman states, not quite looking at either rider. It certainly doesn't look like she wants to stick around.

"Weird," Reesa echoes N'rad almost inaudibly, though it's probably less casual than she intends it, and her posture is stiffly uncomfortable, unconsciously moving to stand closer to N'rad. When the Weyrwoman speaks she tenses up, then exhales. "I didn't wish to come at all," she states, her voice almost as chill as Elaruth's is to the dragons, unintentionally.

N'rad keeps his silence, following Hattie's words, and Elaruth's as conveyed by Maldoranth. His pale blue eyes dart toward Reesa briefly in unspoken reply, but he's soon making his way back to Mal, who's doing his draconic best to impersonate some sort of hulking monster. /He/ doesn't understand why, when no one /wanted/ to be there, they /are/ there, and he shares as much telepathically with the other dragons, without putting it in so many words. Just as quickly as they arrived, the bronze pair is airborne again, circling in wait.

"I didn't wish to be left to the mercies of your acquaintances," at least she's stopped calling them 'friends', "but we don't always get what we want, do we?" Hattie's attention rests more heavily on N'rad as she speaks, yet there's no pointed glance back to Reesa to try and overtly draw that to her attention. She briefly tracks his path back to his bronze, but then she's too busy clambering back up straps and dealing with buckles. If only through Hattie, Elaruth /understands/ why this has been done, and it's of her own initiative that she leans slightly into the gifts granted her colour and emits a far more soothing presence as weighted by her status, if only to try and make sure the (easier) return trip isn't a disaster. She's in the air not long after, and though she led before, this time she hangs back, waiting to see that they make it home or just giving them space. « Thank you, » is not enough, but it's all she has, as she retreats and lets them be. As for Hattie? She's got a report to make.

Reesa doesn't seem inclined to hang around, either- as soon as Hattie finishes speaking she's turning to climb back up onto Khiabeth after a last look towards N'rad. The green's quick to launch aloft- and just as quick to return home, the pressure of her stormy presence receding moments after they return to Fort, winging down towards her weyr.

Maldoranth is... unhappy. It's evident in his eyes and in the unnecessary snap of wings to maintain his height. N'rad is much harder to see, but there is nothing of the sort in his own demeanor now, aside from a long look toward Hattie and Elaruth when the gold attempts to sooth. The rest will remain to be seen. They do indeed head home, though there is a conflicted clash of emotions leaked along the mindlink just before the bronze pair blinks Between. It is nothing dangerous, and they would certainly be reported to arrive above Fort seconds later, but the dragon half of their pair isn't quite done sharing his dissatisfaction just yet. Grumblings fade, however, as they soon retreat to their own weyr, physically and mentally shutting themselves away again.