Difference between revisions of "Logs:Big Burning Fiery Death Stones"

Olveraeth's Ledge, High Reaches Weyr

The large ledge at the front of this weyr is large enough to make a good home for two or perhaps even three dragons, though along its edges are the gouges of generations of claws digging in to take off again. The couch just inside the arched doorway is equally spacious and primely located to give a view of both the ledge and the sky outside and the interior of the weyr.

It's the end of a restday for Quinlys - so sad! She's had her sun, she's checked up on her laundry, she's even visited her parents (and, yes, the Snowasis, too... what's a restday for but to indulge in a cocktail or two with some pretty people?). Now, with darkness well and truly descended, it's time for Olveraeth: blue dragon and blue rider are nestled against each other upon the expanse of his ledge, both staring upwards towards the clear sky so lit with stars. "What's that one?" asks Quinlys, out-loud and into the darkness. Olveraeth's answer is silent, but his eyes whirl, luminous with pleasure. "No, I knew that. You got it from my head, remember? I just like hearing you say it."

There's a cool wind flowing through the night sky, and if it's something only Olveraeth might notice, afterwards there's the very real silhouette of a dragon they both can see; it's not that Solith means to blot out any stars, and indeed she's sensitive enough to Olveraeth's viewing habits that she keeps her descent light and quick. It's her, she shares; she, they, will be there soon.

No doubt there is a constellation known as the green dragon, somewhere out there, but Solith is a new incarnation of such; Olveraeth's great head turns, watching her progress with eyes that whirl with sage wisdom. « You are welcome, » he assures her. « Both of you. There may be shooting stars. » Beside him, shadowed in the dim light, Quinlys stirs to track the green's descent.

« Might there? » Her voice stays hushed to a whisper; Solith wouldn't want to scare them off. Nor is her landing loud, although Telavi's slide to the stone is a little less than truly smooth, and there's a bit of a bounce when the greenrider not-so-skulks to where Solith must have seen the blue-. It's really a very exaggerated, buoyant stalk that ends in an also-whispered, "Is there room?"

« It's possible, if we're lucky, » answers Olveraeth, adjusting his wings in a carefully controlled gesture. His own tone is equally quiet, but with a sonorous reverence. Having followed the green to a landing, Quinlys now follows her rider, blue eyes peering at her through the evening's dark. "Tela," she says, voice showing hints of barely-suppressed mirth. "Have you been drinking? Come and sit. There's plenty of room." There's a blanket on the ground, a Quinlys atop it, her back leaning up against her blue's forelimb.

"Would you believe me if I said no?" Telavi wonders ingenuously, hands behind her back and head tilted just so as she crosses the last of the distance. "Hello, Olveraeth--" which appears to be not only a pleasant greeting but also an added clue that Tela's about to settle in: right next to Quinlys, in fact, as though she doesn't think twice about his providing a backrest for the both of them. Up to Quinlys, even. Her dragon is a little more circumspect, careful to stay low and out of Olveraeth's line of sight when it comes to the stars, otherwise apparently still figuring it all out.

It's not that Quinlys objects to Telavi's sudden proximity, certainly, though her brows have already raised themselves dubiously in answer to that first remark, and this... this does not reassure her. Olveraeth doesn't seem bothered by the addition to their stargazing party, and now extends some of his thoughts to Solith: this is what a shooting star looks like, and this, perhaps, a comet. Not that there are any to see in the physical world (alas). "No," answers Quinlys, perhaps a little belatedly. "I don't think I would. Are you going to say no?"

Solith settles in for learning time, or perhaps it's just as accurately leaning time, for all that her head and forequarters barely touch Olveraeth's and the rest of her is curled away; now and again she glances down to her rider before she looks back to the sky, looking very intensely at the latter as though she could summon the nicer kinds of sights. "To you?" Telavi says to Quinlys, and doesn't look up at Solith at all. "No, no, never," except for the part where she technically just did and must know it, given the laughter in her voice. "It went all right! I was worried for a bit there. But it was all right." It can't have hurt, the reassurance of reporting ahead of time when they were dropping by, just in case they never came out.

The lea(r)ning is well received; Olveraeth's pleased to have a green so close, and pleased, too, to have someone else to share with, now that his rider has been so thoroughly distracted. « But no meteors, » he decides, something that must have been lurking in his rider's thoughts at some point this evening. Quinlys' grin turns amused, and she gives the rider next to her a teasing nudge in answer. "I'm glad," she says. "That it worked out. Eventually. Well done, Tela. What's the summary? Short form."

« Why? » And, apologetically, the sense that sometimes Solith can't quite tell the difference between a shooting star and a meteor and a comet. Perhaps Olveraeth would explain? Hopefully it will be the first time. As for Telavi and the summary, she sighs because those are hard. Also, a strand of Quinlys' hair might have gotten in her face, Tela's face that is, or at least Tela reaches up to free it from somewhere. "He really didn't want to talk about things," she says sadly. "It was all, 'it is personal business! she is my sister! it was off-duty! you don't get to know my heart!' and yet," the greenrider only has the one hand to 'talk' with, so it has to 'face' in the opposite direction for the next persona, "'I don't know her very well! we are barely acquainted!' 'she is strange like a stranger!'" Telavi could give Quinlys the even shorter form, but wouldn't that be less entertaining?

Would Olveraeth like to explain? Does the sun rise in the morning? Do dragons excrete between? For Solith's sake, he keeps his explanation from getting too technical; it would be difficult to miss, however, how much joy he takes in it, and how delighted he is by every factoid. « Meteors once fell on this Weyr, » he adds. « And now we cannot know for sure if our Star Stones will work correctly, though mathematics insist they ought. » Tela's hair-related exploits bemuse the bluerider, but she doesn't move her head away. "He's an idiot," is Quinlys' conclusion to the whole matter. "He'll argue whatever he thinks will best suit his purposes, clearly. Did you come straight here from there?" Was she like this with G'laer? This is an important consideration.

When he's joyful, so is Solith, she can't not, a rustle of leaves aligning to stars rather than Rukbat's closer-up sun. « On? On the Weyr? » she asks, puzzled, and in her imagination there are tiny glowing flecks falling to stone like the sparks from their hearth. "Yes--" and, "No, no, no. Not straight." There was that flying detour, though it's not conscious avoidance, just close to literal-- close, but not completely; it may be a loop but not a loophole that Solith's flight curved. "I tried to explain that things are different for girls, like when you're trying to soak in the pool and you're all comfortable and then a couple of boys come up and want to talk about arguing stuff, then maybe that's not the best time-- but I don't think he got it." Again with the sad.

« On the Weyr, » Olveraeth confirms. Of course, it happened long before he hatched, and even his rider has only fuzzy recollections of these events, but he knows them for true. « It was a rain of burning rocks. They hit the Star Stones, and the bowl wall, and that is why we now have the crafter place. » "And interrupting G'laer at his bath like that wouldn't help explain the point now, would it? I don't know if he'll ever get it," bemoans Quinlys, with a roll of her eyes. "But it was still all right?"

Solith... just might be confused, especially since in her mind those little rocks are still so small. They pile up atop her mental Star Stones like so much hail. « The crafters... were up on the Star Stones, before? » "You should do that," Telavi teases, and curls that lock of red hair around her finger very gently. "I'd like to-- well, not see that, unless like a vtol on the wall, but know it happened. It did go all right, after the upset. It's hard when people don't understand even when you try, and you're not sure whether they really don't or they just want to keep things their way. But I think maybe it will help.... One thing I did wonder, Q. He and Teisyth get along all right, it's not that, but maybe being older like that, it doesn't serve him well to be a weyrling and have to-- well, some younger people maybe don't want to change much either, like Rh'mis? But maybe it's even harder with someone who's already had so much of a life."

In answer, Olveraeth expands the size of them: big burning fiery death stones! « They made a hole in the wall, » he explains. It's a good thing his rider's mind can multi-task. A gentle tug of her head does not dislodge that hair from Telavi's finger, but it does pull at it for a moment; it's more affectionate than any attempt to require a release. "You've caught me," she teases. And, "It is hard. It sounds like you did well. It's..." She breaks off to pause, to consider for a moment. "No, I'm sure it doesn't. There's a reason there's an age limit on Search, you know? I think he'll do better once he's in a real wing, but I won't let him get away with things he shouldn't, just because of that."

Solith is impressed. Though it does concern her, « How did you, » because clearly Olveraeth had something to do with this, « get rid of them? I don't see them still there. Are they put somewhere to keep a place nice and warm? » Like their hearth! except not now, because it's been a little too hot already, at least a little too stuffy for her rider for all that the weather's starting to cool again. "Caught you out," that rider's teasing Quinlys back, and tilts her finger so that the loosened strands can loop around it one more time, bringing it closer to the bluerider's scalp. "I hope so," is only a murmur. Then, "Good. Good, good. I did ask him if he thought siblings shouldn't be allowed to Stand-- but he said something like that it depends, that they could get along really well too. I wish these got along better; Ghena's sweet when she's not griping, but of course they're stubborn, both of them." Pots, kettle!

For a moment, Olveraeth imagines the burning fiery rocks placed in the hatching grounds, like interloper eggs - but no, that's tinged with amusement. « They are no longer hot, » he explains. « And no longer falling. I don't know where they are. » "Or maybe I've trapped you, now," suggests the bluerider. "With my rope-like hair." Only, despite the laugh in her voice, there's something quizzical there, too. "I wish they did, too. The age difference - that's hard. I wouldn't like to have taken the opportunity away from either of them, though." And then: "Tela."

« Maybe we should find them, » the younger dragon diffidently suggests. Sometime, not right now. She tilts her head, peeking back at their riders, his and hers who'd laughed softly without any real answer, and then agreed, "Nor I." At least, when one of them isn't griping or playing rock, either/or. Softly too, "Q?"

« Maybe we should, » agrees Olveraeth, and while he's not one of those dragons desperate for adventure, he does seem intrigued by the possibility of making discoveries. But not now, no. "T?" That's a new one, for Quinlys, who seems generally more inclined to the more usual 'Tela.'

"'T,'" carries a verbal shrug with it; Quinlys can call Tela that if she likes. This, while Solith re-contents herself, pleased enough to have the prospect of shared adventure-- oh, sometime.

But Quinlys goes back to the more tried and true: "Tela. Seriously, now. Have you been drinking? Because Solith doesn't look--" Glow-y, presumably.

"There might have been some drinking." Telavi's lashes seem so long when she peeks out from under them like that, with that ever so faint guilty air. "It's much more fun being able to enjoy it, instead of... arguing, even if I suppose then my head's more clear. Have you ever noticed that when someone says, 'Honestly,' or 'To tell the truth,' it sort of calls into question the rest of what they say?"

"Before, during, or after your talk with G'laer?" Quinlys has likely already determined the answer to that question, based on what Telavi has said, but nonetheless she presses for confirmation, her tone bordering on stern.

This time, the look Telavi gives Quinlys has a bit of a sigh to it that doesn't quite make it past her parted lips. It was a serious question. But, "During, of course." She wouldn't really evade Quinlys' questions. Not Quinlys'.

Quinlys takes a deep breath. "And that seemed like a good idea?" And, "How much did you have?"

"At the time," Telavi says with an actual sigh this time. "I just asked for what he was having." Reluctantly, she curves her finger so the coil of hair isn't so taut, so it can loosen itself back to freedom. "I didn't realize it was quite so strong. And... I didn't hint, didn't hit on him, if that's what you're worried about."

Quinlys' brow furrows as she listens, dubiousness writ large upon her features. "No," she says, on an exhale. "That's not what I'm worried about. It's-- just what was he drinking? There's a reason the whiskey bottle in the office only gets opened after hours. Off-duty."

"It was after dinner, so it was off-duty for him-- well, after dinnertime, I might have forgotten to eat, myself-- or, no, you mean me, don't you?" Telavi's flushed, now. "I'm sorry, Quinlys. I'm not sure what it was; it didn't have a label, not that I saw anyway. And I didn't hit him either," she seems compelled to say. "Or anything like that."

The flush is, frankly, quite adorable, and Quinlys can't help herself but laugh at that last. "Well, I'd hope not," she says. "Well, whatever it was, he clearly shouldn't have-- never mind. What's done is done. I'll have to ask him myself. How do you feel?"

Relieved. That laugh, and all. Except, "I don't want him to get into trouble," Telavi says with wide, soulful eyes. "Not for that, anyway. He can get into trouble for getting after his sister or being stubborn with you, because you know he will be, or not understanding how girls like his sister work, or whatever else, because you know there's going to be something else. Just not for that. Okay?"

Can Quinlys resist those eyes? She may not be able to. Her mouth opens, closes, and then opens again. "Fine," she says, exhaling. "Fine. I'll yell at him for being stubborn, instead, but I'll know that I was annoyed at something else, too. Is that satisfactory?"

"Stubborn with you," Telavi reiterates, though she's visibly so pleased at Quinlys' going along. Not that she's stubborn, or anything. Not that either of the women are.

No, indeed. There is no stubbornness here. Quinlys, in lieu of an actual answer, gives Telavi a bodily nudge, and laughs. She's no longer stern, though, not when she's grinning like that. "Anyway. You did good, regardless."

Telavi must have some idea that it's the best she's going to get-- that, or she just doesn't care any longer, her smile back at Quinlys just as luminous as the meteors might have been, though hopefully less injurious. At least, when it comes to stone. "Good." There's the dimple, the one that hasn't shown up all evening long, not with G'laer and not even here before now. "Time for my reward?" Surely Quinlys won't make her wait...

Quinlys' blue-eyed gaze falls upon that dimple, briefly, as it continues its study of Telavi's face. Her own smile is perhaps a little less luminous, and certainly unlikely to injure, but still: there's brightness there. "Oh? And what is it you have in mind?" Her tone is rich with amusement.

Telavi can look so demure. "I thought I'd start by throwing myself on your mercy," she says. "Gently. For my indiscretions."

"As a reward," says Quinlys, so lazily amused and yes, quietly flirtacious. "My goodness. What shall I do with you?"

"As a reward," Telavi confirms with surety-- it's no contradiction at all, not for Tela-- and leans in to whisper along the other woman's ear.