Difference between revisions of "Logs:Setting the Wrong Kind of Records"

Eastern Bowl, High Reaches Weyr

Ringed by rough granite walls to all sides but one, this end of the huge bowl narrows from the even broader plain to the west, continuing the ever so slight downward slope toward the blue and green of the Weyr's lake and surrounding foliage. More open to sun and wind than the western bowl, but less frequented when there aren't weyrlings in residence, the bowl's grassy tufts keep the topsoil in place and thicken into a bloodstained meadow within the feeding pens that adjoin the lake.

At the base of the surrounding cliffs lie entrances to several caverns, including the dragon infirmary and the weyrling barracks: the former to the northwest near where the spires begin, the latter opposite to the southwest. Both archways are large and dark enough for any dragon to pass through, but it's the infirmary's that is haunted by faint smells of redwort and numbweed, as though over generations they have seeped into the very stone. To the southeast, between the weyrling area and the lake, there are a handful of structures built into the floor of the bowl, standing out amidst otherwise an empty space.

Fog begins to coalesce in the very early morning hours and lingers throughout the day, soft and still and clammy.

For a lot of dragons, fog is fun, the way it lingers in the bowl obscuring vision and playing tricks with sound and so on. For Rasavyth, it bemuses him to have obfuscation as he watches the silhouettes of the weyrlings moving to and fro before they break for lunch. It's about that time that K'zin arrives, a plate of sandwiches in hand. He pauses by his dragon a moment, looking up at that aristocratic nose before nodding and moving toward those mist-shrouded figures.

Evanthe is preceded, as she so often is, but the sound of an expletive being called out - this time inspired by the fog itself, sending her tripping. Luckily for all involved she's far enough away that that plate of sandwiches - precious thing - is not in danger, but she is conveniently right in K'zin's path as he heads towards the barracks. Brushing off her pants, muttering under her breath, and then look. She squints in the fog for a moment, and then recognizes. "You!"

Oh, the tragedy that might have been! K'zin's mouth is certainly grateful enough for that as it's got a sandwich stuffed into it by the time Evanthe's identity can be discerned over the top of said sandwich. Fortunately, since the sandwich is only grasped in K'zin's mouth and not anywhere practical like his free hand, he has one to offer down to the tumbled weyrling. There's a muffled sound that might be the word 'you' or possibly her name, but likely none will know until he has enough hand to remove the still-too-large-to-swallow-whole sandwich from his mouth.

Evanthe takes the hand willingly and hauls herself to her feet, attention half-distracted by the nearness of Rasavyth. Oh, so much larger than the dragon she's used to spending time around. You'd think it would seem normal by now. Nevertheless, she's not distracted long before she zeroes in on that sandwich plate. Her gray eyes fix on K'zin's face. Watching him thoughtfully, one hand goes for a sandwich, unless he makes movement to stop her. Hey, it saves her a walk across the bowl in the obviously hazardous weather.

Evanthe has Rasavyth's attention. After all, she's here. He rumbles in a way that might be thought cheery. "He says hello," K'zin translates through his mouthful as his hand pulls the sandwich away. There's no stopping her hand when she goes for the sandwich. It's an awfully large plate of them, even by K'zinian standards. Maybe he was coming to split lunch with G'var, or maybe he was just beign helpful. "I suppose you'll not have time to clean my weyr now." There's an edge of teasing humor to that comment, so likely he didn't really expect it, possibly even before she stood and Impressed. About that... "Congratulations, by the way. Hadn't had a chance to say it yet." Though he's been around the training cavern a bit, usually at lunchtime, usually with Telavi, or more occasionally J'vain.

There is decided pleasure in Evanthe's face as she gets away with the sandwich and finds a good place to lean in order to enjoy it. In this case that means ripping chunks of it off to eat one bite at a time. He certainly has been helpful to her. "'Fraid not," she agrees readily. "Probably for the best. I'm just awful at cleaning." The congratulations, now. She gives him a long thoughtful look, as though analyzing the exact tone he's using when he's saying it, before she accepts the words with a nod. "Yeah. Yeah, thanks. Zvaraseth. It's good. It's weird."

K'zin's brows furrow as he looks at her, but only because that thoughtful look... it's confusing and he's a bronzerider of very little brain. He glances to his much smarter dragon. "I mean it." He adds after that. "Weird is good word for it. It was for me, too. Not at all what I expected." There's a look toward Rasavyth now and then a purse of his lips before he's looking back to the slight blonde. "Just wait 'til you get into the Harper lessons. That's horrid. But I made a game with the other weyrlings in the training cavern to help with the history stuff, if you're as rotten at that as I was. I was in remedials forever." Woe. Maybe he's chatting to put her at her ease. Maybe he's just a chatty, friendly fellow. "Is Zvaraseth very-- babyish? Or not so much?"

"Thanks," Evanthe says simply, and somewhat less suspiciously, at the second profession of congratulations. She chews then, mouth impractically full while K'zin speaks, though not so full as to mask the look of disgust she makes at the mention of the harper lessons. Oh, oh, indeed. They're about at that point. Once she swallows, she shakes her head. "Didn't realize about that part. The... all the studying part. Bet I beat you for how long I'll be in remedials. Just you wait." If, of course, her lifemate would even possibly permit that to happen. Ev herself isn't much of a chatty type, but she's comfortable enough at the moment. The bronzerider's company is enjoyable. And without expectation. "Babyish?" she asks, and snorts. Which is probably answer enough in itself. "Not so much. Not really. He's... he..." Defies description? "He's different. Than I would have ever thought. What was he like?" she adds, towards Rasavyth.

"Yeah? Good luck," K'zin challenges with a grin. Not that he really wishes that on anyone, least of all someone he seems to like well enough. There's a nod for her words about Zvaraseth, his expression more sober now. It's downright serious as he glances to Rasavyth and back. "Not even a little bit the baby. He's far smarter than I ever have hope of being, no matter how many books he makes me read." But that's the reality. "My friends never really liked him. Thought he changed me. But if he did... he did. I mean, friends come and go, and dragons are forever, right?" He shrugs then, perhaps realizing he'd rambled. "Sandwich?" It's a distraction. He offers another even if she hasn't finished the first.

Evanthe nods slowly in complete recognition, following that glance up at Rasavyth. "Sounds familiar," she says wryly. It is, perhaps, glimpse of what she has coming to her... but she doesn't seem terribly perturbed by the rest, throwing a little half shrug in there. "Think I could do with being changed, maybe. Wouldn't be the worst thing. My mother is horrified, so that's a bonus." Another sandwich? Why yes. She takes it, though she hasn't finished the first one, and tucks it in the waistband of her pants. She may be little, but she's hungry. "Should go back in," she mumbles around her food, though her tone is all reluctance. "Was gonna get food, then told Zvar I'd learn things. Told G'var we could study things," she adds with a sigh that could almost be called wistful. Oh, tall muscular bronzeriders. K'zin's lucky he's taken.

There's something hard to put a name to in K'zin's expression as Evanthe speaks her first words. He almost speaks, but then doesn't. Soon enough, he's grinning for the comment about her mother. When she states her intention to go, he extends the plate. "Take these with you? Make sure Tela gets one before G'var eats the rest, please? If she's mad at me for not bringing her lunch later, I'll blame you." And to have an assistant weyrlingmaster blaming a weyrling for her having gone hungry? That can't be good.

Evanthe reaches automatically to take the plate, then glances up to K'zin's face. "You're assuming they'll make it to the barracks," she says. "Running laps all the time, the strength training... I'm fucking tiny, I need all the energy I can get." She's also too tiny to possibly be able to eat all that, so probably she's joking. Or a hoarder. "'S good to see you. You're pleasant." That's added in a mumble, followed by a hasty cramming of her mouth before she starts creeping her cautious way back towards the barracks, peering around the edges of the plate for any potential tripping hazards.

"Yeah, you are pretty puny." K'zin says it in a mock-serious tone, expression matching as he looks over the younger girl as if he hadn't that time in the craft complex. But then he's grinning. "Just wait 'til you get to know me." Since they're friends and all. But Telavi must see something in him, right? Maybe it's the muscles. Without more of a farewell, he's turning to head back the direction he came; apparently there's more to do somewhere that way.