Difference between revisions of "Logs:Another Perspective"

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.

The shimmering nothingness is likely not an unknown presence. Like Hraedhyth, Rasavyth likes keeping closer-than-average tabs on the weyrlings and their progress. He's oft to be seen around, just keeping an eye on things. Today is a little different though, because the shimmers in the nothing edge nearer and nearer until a sensation of nearness asserts itself, making the nothing more readily observable as an invisible sort of ooze. « Rosvelth, » comes a lazy tenor purr. « I've been remiss. » Does he mean that to be funny? He might, there is that edge of humor that is omnipresent along with that tang of 'wrongness' at the farthest reaches of his touch. « I am Rasavyth. » If looked for, he can be found, perched on the diving cliff, because no one wanted to use that right now, right? Probably not with the spring air still so chilly despite the sunshine and general splendor of the day.

« Are you indeed, » returns Rosvelth - Rosvelth, who is rising from a recent nap, letting the sleep fall away from his thoughts like waves of salty, sandy water, revealing the treasures within. Maybe he doesn't get the joke, or maybe he's heard it often enough, now, that he doesn't have anything to say to it. In either case, it goes by without remark. « And what is it you want? Is it something interesting? Something fun? »

« I am. » Rasavyth admits with a flavor of apology. « I should have introduced myself before now. I ought to have saved your Rh'mis all the trouble of Impression from the stands by searching him when I wanted to. » Only someone got in the way, a mental sigh of mild exasperation. Riders, what's a dragon to do? « Speaking of, my K'zin would like a word with your Rh'mis. If you have the energy to come to the lake shore, we might find some means of amusing ourselves. » As the bronze has gone on, his ooze has begun to take on qualities that mirror Rosvelth's mind: salty, sandy water, the promise of treasures, hidden and occasionally exposed. « What is it you that interests you? »

Rosvelth may not know the circumstances of which Rasavyth speaks, but of one thing he's certain: « He would not have accepted it. He only accepts me. » And that is a close call indeed, though really, who could not accept a treasure like Rosvelth? He's curious by the morphing of the other dragon's ooze, but apparently unbothered by it. Salt and gold and shining treasures fill the pause that follows; then, « I won't tell him that yours wants to see him, because then he'd probably say no. But we'll come. I need to stretch my legs: I've been sitting still for two whole hours and that's way too long! I like the lake. But it's less shiny, now. It melted. » It's so unfair.

« Clever. » The tenor purr is approving for Rosvelth's cunning, and perhaps even a touch surprised. That Rhey wouldn't have accepted the opportunity to stand doesn't seem to bother Rasavyth. « It would have been the wrong time, anyway. You were not on the sands when I sensed his potential. » His touch continues to mirror that of the brown's mind, taking on greater dimension as the weyrling dragon shares more with him. « The lake will shine again. This is 'Reaches, and there are pleasures to be found with the lake as it is now and as it will become through the turn. » There's a brief sensation of flight as Rasavyth moves from diving cliff to shore, stretching lazily once there.

Is it? Rosvelth doesn't think in those terms. « I would have found him regardless of anything, » he tells the bronze, sure and determined. « I'll always find him. » There's some sense that he doesn't wholly believe the bronze about the lake, but he's distracted: they're walking, now, and there's a very interesting puddle, and-- oh, a rock! Not a shiny one, but still interesting. Rhey doesn't want to pick it up, but Rosvelth makes him, because that's what you do when you find interesting things, right? Right? And then there they are, boy and brown, traipsing across the chilly bowl towards the lake.

If that's what Rosvelth likes to do with interesting things, then, of course, Rasavyth agrees that's what you do with them. He doesn't, however, suggest Rosvelth try that on greens he finds interesting in the future, at least in the physical sense. Some greens are fat. Maybe the skinny ones would be alright, but still, too much effort to go to for a green. And golds? He suspects even the strongest bronze would have difficulty picking up a gold, but not because they're fat. He would never suggest such a thing. These are all thoughts that can be sensed without being put into true words. And really, Rosvelth only needs to listen to them if he wants to, it's just a single strands of the many oozy-webs of thought tracing through the bronze's mind. « Have you tried looking at the rocks on the bottom of the lake? » The bronze queries innocently. « Some are quite shiny. » It might be idle chat while he waits, but K'zin is doing no such waiting, approaching from behind the pair, casually, as though it just happened that he was going the same way, wearing his grey woolen coat and red scarf, hat, and mittens. "Rhey," he greets as he matches stride with the weyrling.

"Yes?" Rhey's head turns, those blue eyes considering K'zin levelly as the rider joins him. His words are coolly neutral, though it's quietly obvious - in the measured expression on his face, in the way his hand, dug deep into the pocket of his ill-fitting coat, makes a fist - he hasn't forgotten the bronzerider. With his rider now occupied, Rosvelth storms ahead, paying only partial attention to what Rasavyth has been saying: his lake beckons. « Why would I pick up a green? Or a gold? I could roll them over, maybe... I pushed Sveianth, » a blue, granted, but same difference, « earlier, and he went sliding into the mud. It was fun! » His nose drops towards the water, as if he's now trying to see those promised shinies. Hm!

"K'zin," He offers. Not that the bronzerider really expects the resourceful teen not to know his name by now for all that he never gave it before, but there's something in the extension of one's name, and it's that something that compels the offering. "I'd say I was surprised to see you Impress from the stands, but I expect you've gotten an earful of that already." K'zin's grin is lopsided and he aims it with an edge of sympathy toward the weyrling. Rasavyth's amusement briefly intensifies, « Did you. » It's not really phrased as a question, but rather a pair of words that indicate his interest, if also his amusement. It invites the story, if there's more to it than that. Rasavyth moves toward the chilled waters, stopping with his toes just barely into the water. « Do you expect to find the shiny stones without effort? » Just by looking?

"Yes," repeats Rhey, a statement that could easily answer any of the things the other rider has said; he doesn't specify. There's caution to his tone, caution that continues when he adds: "It doesn't take away from your surprise. Or mine. It is what it is." His gaze is centered upon Rosvelth, now, though it lacks the kind of besotted warmth many riders have in staring at their dragons. The brown is heedless of that, focused instead of nosing further into the water. « I haven't gotten to them, yet. The water is cold. Are you sure they're down there? »

K'zin, by contrast, seems fairly carefree, a chuckle slipping out at the simple statement of fact. "That it is." His eyes briefly glance toward the bronze, the gaze similarly lacking in besotted infatuation. "I don't have an easy time of it." He volunteers this after a brief pause and keeps his tone matter-of-fact. Though he doesn't elaborate, he does say, "Since you're on my turf now, well- our turf, really, but the turf I grew up on, anyway," K'zin has to correct himself a few times as he talks, "I just wanted to offer that if you needed something from someone who's not trying to turn you into a model citizen and dragon, just--" He shrugs. 'Say' is the implied ending, but a red-mittened hand waves in the air a little. "And if you're still in the trade," the information trade, "I'm still a paying client." So there's that, too. Rasavyth is being equally helpful. « Yes, I'm quite sure. » He dips his nose down and slips it beneath the water, doubtlessly employing the proper lids so he can see without discomfort. « The water polishes them smooth. Some are shiny on their own, others you simply have to oil to get them to shine. I'm sure your Rh'mis could do that for you. » See? Helpful!

Rhey turns, now, so that he can look squarely at the other rider (for all that there's no way he'd describe himself as such), hands clasped tightly behind his back. His expression is measured, but there's a spark of something behind those blue eyes, visible even when filtered through the overhang of his hair. No doubt he could be bitter, now, and rail on about how he didn't choose this life, but perhaps he doesn't see the point: for better or for worse, here he is. Instead; "There's less a person can do, stuck here, stuck in classes, stuck--" Stuck. He stops. That, after all, heads towards bitter territory, though his tone is even enough. "The army won't march. It isn't intent on conquest, just..." It clearly bothers him, as though it simply doesn't tally with what he expects. "All Rone seems to want is Nabol." « Perhaps he could, » agrees Rosvelth, with none of the uncertainty that might be expected, given the peculiar relationship he and his share. Decisively, he splashes into the water, disrupting the glassy surface and sending waves here and there.

"True. And nothing's as good as doing it yourself, of course, but there are some things that just are." K'zin glances toward Rosvelth; wanting won't make him grow flight-worthy any faster. "But it happens that nowadays I'm in and out of Nabol frequently. It's perhaps more than possible that, for some things, I might be able to act as temporary proxy. If there were things a person needed to have done." A single brow arches to simply confirm that yes, he's offering. "Better that Rone wanted nothing at all, but I'd rather he want only Nabol than be seeking to expand. Although, I'd guess he'd meet with an awful lot of resistance if he tried to press his boarders. Could be, too, that he's waiting to secure Nabol before pressing a bigger agenda." K'zin's expression is thoughtful, looking at Rasavyth. "He's better at these things than I am." The rider notes offhandedly. The 'he' in question is watching the younger dragon, « Is this your first time going beneath the surface? » His query comes with curiosity and a little ooze of shiny treasure, just in case in the three seconds that have passed, Rosvelth has lost sight of why he's in the chilly waters.

On the topic of Rone, Rhey rather seems to agree, but his mouth, now, has been pressed into a thin, hard line as he considers. "That's what bothers me," he admits, finally. "That I don't know what his full agenda is. None of my... we haven't been able to get close enough to him." And clearly, so clearly, Rhey is itching to be involved. "I will keep your offer in mind." The idea of a dragon being better at these things than a rider is clearly one the weyrling is dubious of - but perhaps that's predicated upon his own lifemate, who is waving his hindquarters in the air as he hunts for those shiny, shiny rocks. « No, » he reports back. « I don't think so. » Or is it? Memory is fuzzy. Shiny things are rather less so.

There's a nod from K'zin, a look of understanding. "Yes, it is frustrating not knowing the whole plan." This is only half to Rhey. The other half is to Rasavyth who doesn't seem to take any note of his rider's words. "And potentially problematic." He looks back to Rhey; he's talking about Rone again now, not a meddlesome, masterminding bronze. « I think I see one to your left, just a little farther out. » Rasavyth purrs, his tenor tinged with a warm amusement. « What is more important to you, obtaining the treasure or the manner in which you obtain the treasure? » The oozy waters his mind reflects are more temperate than those of the lake. « Does it matter to you, for instance that you're mooning the shore? » The amusement is especially strong here, like undertow in the ocean.

Rhey, if he even registers the double meaning of K'zin's words, keeps his thoughts to himself on that subject. Besides, he's staring off into the distance, ignoring his own dragon altogether. "Potentially very problematic," he agrees. "I suppose, in time, I'll have transport of my own, but..." There's a hardness about his expression, something he has to visibly suppress. "Anyway." « Mooning? » Not a term Rosvelth is familiar with, and not one he seems terribly bothered about-- he's rather more interested in wiggling deeper into the water in search of that treasure the larger dragon has pointed out. « Both are important. The more exciting the better, because then it makes a great story, later. But you can always make even a boring story into a great story, if you know what you're doing. »

Though K'zin's brown eyes take in the hardness, he doesn't press for more. His look is long enough that it's meant to convey that he's seen and at least observed what was available on Rhey's face in that moment, but a simple nod accepts it for what it is. "Is there--" He starts after a moment and then has to pause, brow knitting as he sorts phrasing. "Is there anyone in particular from out Nabol-way that you'd like someone-" Him, "-looking out for in case things take an unexpected turn?" At least this much he can offer since he does have his own transportation now. Rasavyth is equally helpful, of course, providing Rosvelth with an image of the pasty pale ass that certainly isn't K'zin's, but some misguided youth from somewhere waggling it before stumbling off drunkenly. Mooning. Obviously the dragon equivalent is a little more tasteful, what with the practicality of their anatomies, or so Rasavyth seems to feel and allow to be felt by the younger dragon. « So this will be the story of how you made one of the moons rise in daylight and how you returned with treasures from it? » The bronze suggests, his amusement still thick in the oozy charm. « Or something else? How will you tell this story? »

"No." It's clipped: clipped and quick, the word out almost the instant K'zin has stopped speaking. Then: "No, no. There's no one. It's fine. I'm a one-man band." True or not, he's determined in the telling of it. "It would only help if I could get out there, and..." Now he glances at his dragon, and this time, his expression is dismissive. "He can't keep his mouth shut. No. It's fine. I'll just have to wait it out. At least I'm... 'safe.'" Oh, so much dubiousness; he sounds every bit the moody teenager, and nothing like the confident boy he was in the gazebo that night, so many months ago. « Mooning, » repeats Rosvelth. « Huh! That seems dumb. » An ass is an ass is an ass, surely? « I don't have a moon to make rise, » he continues, thrusting himself further into the water. « No, I'll think of something better than that. »

"Okay." K'zin accepts it, true or not; whether he realizes one way or the other or not. He doesn't press the point. He glances toward the lake, and the dragons. "Safe is always sort of relative." He says after a moment, "But facing things going forward, you're not alone." Whether he just means Rosvelth or the Weyr at large, he doesn't clarify. "Which... well, that may suck for you. Depends on how you like to be, I guess. I lost more friendships after I Impressed than I gained." He shrugs, as though it doesn't still bother him. "Quinlys won't let them haul you away, though, so there's that." It's something, right? « An ass is an ass until it's a shapely ass. Your Rh'mis might know something about this. But likely, that lesson will come later. Mooning is dumb. Unless you need a dumb distraction, in which case it might have its uses. » Everything can be useful given the right circumstances. « Take your shiny treasure, for example. It has uses beyond just being treasure under the right circumstances. »

Rhey raises his eyebrows and looks... dubious, especially when K'zin makes reference to Quinlys. "She's a bit lightweight, isn't she? Or are you going to tell me she has hidden depths. Her, and Telavi, too." For the rest, he doesn't seem to have much to say, except that, "They're very young, most of them. The weyrlings, I mean. They seem to think... that their experiences of life are my experiences. That I must see the world they way they do, or should." He doesn't shudder, but there's a sense of it, anyway. « Such as? » Rosvelth is wary, interested but in a cautious kind of way.

"Physically, sure," K'zin allows for Quinlys' frame, "But you don't need to worry about the physical part. Rosvelth will have that much covered." He glances toward the brown. "And Telavi..." He pulls a mittened hand from his pocket and reaches up to adjust his hat. "She's the most stubborn woman I know. I'd like to see someone try to pry you away from her and Quinlys' tender care." The mittened hand returns to the pocket before he comments, "You will find that." He looks to Rasavyth, "My weyrlinghood felt very different from what everyone else around me seemed to get. My dragon's not the same as most. He was never babyish the way theirs were. He never needed me the way theirs did. He was always smarter than me, and that made the dynamics of our relationship and how we worked together different from the start. But it didn't stop the other weyrlings from thinking and assuming that I saw and felt the same as they did. Like I said, lost more friends than I gained. They say you have to be friends with them. Or friendly, anyway, but it's not true. Do your work, be civil with the rest, but don't let them convince you these are your people if you don't want them to be. There's a life after weyrlinghood. I don't see much of my clutchsiblings anymore. Tela more than most." He shrugs, so there's another perspective. Possibly one that would have Quinlys boxing his ears for tearing up her cohesive team. « If, for example, you and your Rh'mis were to come under attack, you could choose to use your shiny rocks as weapons to hurl at your attackers. » That's one way Rasavyth presents. An innocent enough way.

The look on Rhey's face suggests he wasn't necessarily thinking physically-- really, he seems dismissive of both of those members of weyrling staff, though his shrug abandons the point. "We don't have a partnership," he tells the bronzerider, tone clipped. "Not him and me, and not me and the group. He can do what he likes." What Rosvelth likes seems to involve throwing himself into the shallows, now, and it's obvious that this is something Rhey does not like. « I'll throw them! But then I'll take them back, because they're mine. » "You." Even now, Rhey doesn't use his dragon's name, even now that he's stalking away from K'zin, abandoning the conversation in order to chastise the brown. "Out. Now. We're leaving."

The nod from K'zin is simple. It doesn't make he-who-just-spoke-of-others-around-him-making-assumptions a hypocrite. He doesn't challenge Rhey's words nor tell him 'oh, but of course you're partners,' not even a 'it will come in time' or anything so cliche and squishy. Just the nod. "See you, then." Whenever. It doesn't seem to concern the older teen. Rasavyth's response is just as easy, though colored with amusement, « But of course. » There's no sense that the older bronze is humoring the young brown; quite the contrary, his concern for what concerns Rosvelth seems quite sincere, for all that something amuses him. But then, it's rare when something doesn't. « We will see you again. » He doesn't need to guess; he's sure. Then he and K'zin are moving away, strolling down the lake shore, K'zin's hands tucked into his pockets.