Difference between revisions of "Logs:Not Exiled Yet"

It's likely a good thing that Iesaryth and her rider have made a habit of wandering off as they do, as the wandering off they've done of late to find this spot; apparently finally suitable to both of their requirements. The island is mid-sized, the greenery on it covering about half, with things lurking in the brush that mostly seem non-lethal. It's not so far south and east that it'd be too close to Monaco, but south and east both and hopefully not near much of anything. When Iesaryth provides all the visuals, they're clear enough to make her study of the place obvious - they've been coming here for some time, at least long enough to have it all firm in her mind from all the angles. And today, they've been here long enough for the queen to be contentedly settled in the sand of the largest beach, near-dozing as the tides of her mind match that of those that wash ashore. Aishani's found a tree to lean against, and for once, she's not /paying attention/, perhaps lulled into some sense of security by isolation - or maybe she's just tired. Her arms are folded, legs crossed at the ankle, all closed up even if she's napping.

Non-lethal... yet edible. Though N'rov, unlike his dragon, might like to cook them first. Perhaps it's Iesaryth's lasstitude that prompts the quietness of Vhaeryth's landing once he's scoped the place out, not surreptitious (it's /their/ /place/, after all) but careful, enough of a distance out that N'rov has to hoof it towards Aishani with the long, bulky bundle atop his back and sacks swinging from either hand. It's warm. Vhaeryth slips into it like he will, shortly, the water, the sense of him glass-clear as the tides ripple to and fro. Unless it's really glass-mirrored: that could, also, be. Will they wake Aishani? N'rov won't, on purpose. Not yet.

The very point! Though there's a sense of appreciation for Vhaeryth's quiet, for not announcing his presence with the same sort of enthusiasm as usual, Iesaryth's eyes still open, blue and bright to follow the bronze to his landing. « Do you like it? » Though he's hardly seen it, she's still excited for approval - look, look at what she found for them! It's not the same just to show him. As for Shani, she won't unfold and tilt her head up until N'rov's shadow has fallen over her. Languidly, "You brought things." Not that she's moving to help him with them or anything, instead smiling up at the bronzerider like he ought to drop all of them in favor of greeting her properly.

He's seen it! He's seen it from overhead, anyway (and has little patience for a bug's eye view), and displays the place in its green-and-brown glory, the freshwater pool, the darker rocks, the sun and the shade. « We should stay here ever so long, » Vhaeryth at once agrees and decides. « 'Our problem became our stepping stone. Catch the moment.' Though... perhaps what they meant was /sunning stone/. » Stone, stones, close enough: little tiny brown stones, so small and soft that their paws can properly sink into them and their claws stretch, luxuriating. The bronze moves through the shallows so the sun can dance up against his flanks and the undersides of his wings, and shares with Iesaryth how that feels while letting her stay dry. For now. She was so clever in finding and then inviting, after all. She looks so peaceful. It would be kind. N'rov, similarly moved to be indulgent, leans in to scoot stray curls out of the way of Shani's eyes with his nose, and then to kiss her properly. Even if he does still have his carapace of gear. "Not as though we're exiled, yeah?"

Iesaryth would stay here for a time, with the ocean and sun, but would eventually miss skimming the high, snowy peaks closer to home; her rider would likely be content with this weather for much longer. Even if it makes her fuss with her hair. The gold enjoys the sensation of stones and water, echoed from an earlier memory, perhaps mere hours before. Maybe she's /been/ wet already! But there's a rustle of her wings watching him, and she is pleased for her cleverness acknowledged - all of this is so much work after all. Also grateful for no splashing. And if N'rov is still so encumbered, Shani doesn't add to it with her arms, but she does kiss him back, grinning afterward. "Not yet," she counters, lightly. "I hope you like it here, just in case."

Would she? They could visit, then. (If Vhaeryth will have a hankering for such places all too soon, there's no trace of it /now/.) Has she, might she? And yet that golden hide is all dry, now, those spangles surely only self and sun, though Vhaeryth does quite teasingly dip his head as though to nose at her paler ridges. Maybe he's hungry, already. But he doesn't, quite, drip. (Or, at least, not on her. It's a careful balance.) So /much/ work. And yet she has prevailed. All hail! "Would you want a Hold?" N'rov has to ask around then, grinning back down at Shani. "Or a wagon. So /far/, you'll have to settle for a tent. Why don't you design our insignia, while I set up the fortress." Canvas fortress.

She does visit places now, when she likes. Would he like it here, without his ledge to watch from and only the trees and skies above? Iesaryth thinks she might, that she could. That she would more so if Vhaeryth doesn't drip on her, but it's warm enough that it likely wouldn't even bother her that much. How can she /really/ complain about water, after all? Her rider pushes out of her lean to pull up her knees, resting her chin there and wrapping arms around them, openly regarding N'rov if he's going to go about setting up tents and being attractive and useful all at once. It's more than she's doing. "Right, I'll think that over. Did I tell you there were more transfers? Before winter? People have lost their minds."

Vhaeryth does like his ledge, she's right there. (Particularly when she's /right there/.) His ledge, and sunning. His ledge, and watching. His ledge, and leaping out into the vast brilliant blue, best of all. Could his rider built such a thing? Even as the bronze considers this, he's drifting deeper away from the beach and into the saltwater sea, less a matter of steps than... inclining. His rider, meanwhile, is stripping. Only to long shorts, it's true, but it's warm and with his girl's appreciative eyes on him, why waste it? "Transfers, you said. Crazy, you said. Details, you did not say." Entertain him! He's got a spot to spec out, far enough shoreward that high tide won't get them, solid enough that the poles won't fall over, close enough that they won't have to walk any more dragonlengths than they have to in order to get to the water. Oh, and with room for a fire. It's not a hard job, but he's got to be good for /something/.

« Not as high as you would like. » Or as Iesaryth would like, come to think of it; think of /leaping/ into the air and gliding, that's not something to be lightly dismissed. And though she's comfortable, his drifting is enough to lure her into a slow stretch, slow steps off the sand and into the water, towards the bronze. And /appreciative/ Aishani most certainly is, dark eyes bright, gaze lingering. She might argue N'rov is good for a few things, but she's very clearly biased. "Details. They're from all over, really. Igen, Benden, Ista. It makes me a little suspicious." A /little/. "Which worked out well, in the end, I suppose. I made a decent deal for one of them. I ought to do it more often."

Vhaeryth doesn't /wait/ for Iesaryth, but she's not now a weyrling who requires it, especially with his pace this tide-drawn slow. He does glance back over one half-furled wing, appreciative in his own right for her approach, and somehow more... /attentive/. Beyond them, in his mind's eye, reaches a vastness of Ledge, up beyond whatever clouds there could possibly be. It's dark to hold the sun, yet not quite opaque, as though all obsidian. Almost all: there's a hole out from which vents a waterfall, complete with sparkly fish. "Don't think they know each other, then?" inquires his rider as he sets up the telescoping poles, reed rather than more costly metal but finely chosen and worked: possibly from his father rather than Fort, or maybe it's not that they're part of Fort's general distribution. "Not fancying themselves a wily gang, all set to take control? Somehow, I'd have thought they all made deals, not the transfers but the people who decide such things... tell me of yours, that I might applaud as it deserves."

Iesaryth likes attention, or at least Vhaeryth's attention; any difference in quality is certainly noticed but for now, put away for later study. Her progress through the surf isn't slowed by what he imagines, by considering the possibility, by being amused by sparkly fish. She is fond of them. With a purse of her lips, her rider shakes her head, fine brows drawn together quite as if she's had to seriously consider it. "No. It's possible, anything is. But if I think that way, I'll drive myself crazy." Shani wrinkles her nose, noting, "Well, if anyone's getting anything out of it, they're not telling /me/." Which, as her tone suggests, would both be infuriating and unwise. "Oh. Well, another bronzerider with convenient timing. Who didn't want to answer too many questions about transferring out before transferring in. Which /is/ comforting." Eyeroll. Like that won't cause a problem. "So, he owes Azaylia and I. Something. I /tried/ to give him an out."

"Another one?" It's not that N'rov sounds disbelieving, precisely, so much as dubious: not of the woman keeping him company, but of the as yet nameless man. "Not subtle. Still, I suppose it wouldn't have been such a good deal, if he'd waited another month. The /weather/. Who's going to believe that?" But he has to grin, looking past her towards their dragons, where Vhaeryth's currently investigating where the tide will pull them if only they let it be. It's a good time: alone with his girl and their dragons and the water and the wind and the /warmth/, not to mention the prospect of that tent currently behaving under his hands as just one plan coming to fruition. He slots another rod into place, feeds the twine through the connecting holes, knots it easily as any sailor might. "I wonder just what he's desperate for." Or from.

If her echo is a touch weary, would anyone blame her? "Another one." Isn't that partially why Shani's here to begin with? With Iesaryth, who - it must be noted - is not looking unusually sunny or bright. Not at the moment, at least - just content enough to drift with the tides. "Though, I don't know. I think it's not subtle, but it's a good excuse for something else? It's... yes, exactly that. Why give up so much. Why want out so badly." They're questions, but the way she states them makes it sound like she doesn't expect answers, not from N'rov. Her gaze goes a bit distant for a moment or two before she shakes it off. "I ought to ask that question more often, if I can get so much out of it." After that, there's other transfers to mention and conversation to entertain him while he's finishing up with that tent - and once that's done, she'll want a look inside, and that's likely to go somewhere predictable very quickly. It is a good time.