Difference between revisions of "Logs:Bad Move, Candidate"

Hatching Galleries, High Reaches Weyr

Ringing the southwestern side of the hatching sands are ample tiers of carved stone benches, the lowest of which is some six feet off the ground -- just high enough to separate wayward hatchlings from unwary viewers, and vice versa. A metal railing on the outside helps prevent anyone from falling off; it also extends up the stairs that lead the way higher into the galleries. While most of the area is open seating, ropes section off some of the closer tiers when dignitaries are expected; those areas even feature cushions in the Weyr's blue and black.

The higher one climbs, the more apparent the immense scale of the entire cavern becomes. The dragon-sized entrance on the ground is dwarfed by the expansive golden sands that glitter in the light. Everything on them is easily visible from the galleries, whether that's a clutch of eggs and a broody queen, or simply its emptiness and the handful of darker tunnels that lead to more private areas than the bowl. Wherever one sits or looks, however, one thing is constant: the overwhelming, suffocating heat.

It's miserable and sleety out there, as if High Reaches' winter is determined to hold on to the bitter end; the heat of the galleries is, perhaps, quite pleasant in contrast. Afternoon is steadily fading into dusk, and many of the occupants have headed out in preparation for dinner, though certainly not all. Out on the sands, Cadejoth is restlessly rotating eggs under Hraedhyth's watchful gaze, his demeanour all sadness and boredom; his rider stands near the railing, watching the process in an obvious effort to keep his dragon company.

Just outside the entrance to the Grounds comes a chuffing rumble, the sound carrying easily to the Sands via the acoustics of the place. After some seconds follows the dart of some foolish teen's head inside to at least *glimpse* those eggs being turned, while Alida and Ilicaeth remain steadfastly *outside* in the craptastic weather. Whether Hraedhyth decides to take exception to the girl's noseiness is utterly up to the gold, but the bluerider - her schpiel about Candidate rules and such having already been delivered - shows not tender mercies, regardless...leaving the fool on her own as she retreats towards the Galleries. Ilicaeth, meanwhile, merely rumbles what sounds like dark humor at his newest choice, and likewise leaves her all to Hrae and Cadejoth in a downblast of sleety-cold air as his wings flap to get him the shell out of there.

Already knowing the temper of Hraedhyth's mind, gritty, raspy-baritoned Ilicaeth chooses to contact mellow Cadejoth, instead, his sands reflecting mica as he chuckles, « Another body ta sacrifice on Hraedhyth's pyre... » Images of the same teen girl looking at some random egg, then getting chased out by a flaming Hrae follow, the blue's mind filled with cavernous laughter. (To Cadejoth from Ilicaeth)

« NO, » says Cadejoth, throwing his mental weight behind the word - enough that it's probably audible to the girl in question, and perhaps as terrifying as his sudden roar. He's no Hraedhyth, but he can be defensive when he chooses. Egg turning, now, will be abandoned: he needs to protect them, and protect his mate, too, soothing any disquiet. Up in the galleries, K'del's easy expression turns immediately harder as he turns, attempting to get a look at the interloper - and then, after a moment, at Alida. "What the fuck is wrong with people?" he wants to know, managing, just barely, not to snap.

Mellow, yes, though not when it comes to his eggs: Cadejoth's chains clatter and jangle, not war drums but carrying an eerie howl to them. Not cool. Not cool. « I wouldn't laugh, » he retorts, calm, but not pleased. « They should know better. If they think themselves worthy. » He is less certain of this worthiness, that's for certain. (To Ilicaeth from Cadejoth)

Said newest Candidate blanches sheet-white, and is already fleeing as if a Wing of flaming dragons is on her dumb ass, a faint screech sounding off the rock of the Bowl as she beats feet. Ilicaeth is nothing but amenable to the bronze's rejoinder at the gone-girl, his sandy, torrid mind still chuckling quietly, though Cadejoth is a little bristly. Alida turns in place to notice the twit getting what she deserves, the blonde then shaking her head and rolling her eyes as she slowly approaches K'del. Once she arrives, "There's brave, then there's fuckin' stupid beyond belief..." the bluie murmurs, her voice kept low in deference to bronze and gold out there. "Guess she might as well learn 'er limits now." Shrug. "She's from some dinky cothold. Tried ta give 'er a quick education on dragons 'n such on the way here, but..." Indeed; *but*. "You want me ta rescind 'Caeth's Search?" Outside, flapping his way back to his own sheletered ledge, the rocky blue eases from dark humor into a thoughtful, « I'll toss 'er back... » If Cadejoth wants the Candidate snapped back hard for her stupid transgression. It'll sting the blue only a little, since there's always more places to Search, when he feels like it.

Cadejoth, certainly, seems satisfied by the girl's rapid retreat, though he's clearly far from relaxed as he settles back down with his mate: constant vigilance is required, and he's the one to provide it. Every clutch needs a good guard dog, after all. "No," says K'del, on an exhale. "Though it's probably good reason to think twice about Searching at those, as you say, 'dinky cotholds.' Not like we need dozens and dozens of candidates, even with Iesaryth's clutch close behind. No need to actively go out Searching, after all." « If she's willing to stay after that, » Cadejoth tells the blue, now faintly smug, « Perhaps she'll prove her worth. » Perhaps.

The bluerider turns a knowing smirk down upon guard-doggie extraordinaire down there, a faint sound of pleasure made in the back of Alida's throat for Cadejoth's manner and instincts. "Wasn't on Search-related anything..." the woman murmurs after a faint nose-wrinkle, her green gaze slipping from dragons to eggs as she speaks. "Doin' a looksee fer their Holder - some herdbeasts got loose, they waved us down, asked fer a skywise pair uv' eyes - and Ilicaeth decided that the cottie's neice looked tasty enough ta nab fer the clutch." Snert. "Should'a known better; she was all fuckin' googly-eyed over it. Not much smarts." Eyeroll.

Ilicaeth's all about people and dragons proving themselves worthy, in their own ways. Chuff. « Agreed. » If the girl is still freaked out enough after Alida checks on her in a few hours... back off to that cothold she'll go. « Gotta' weed out the weaker ones. » (To Cadejoth from Ilicaeth)

K'del makes a face of his own, fingers wrapping around the railing in front of him as he leans carefully forward-- but not too far, given how unsettled the dragons down there are. "Hate that," he says. "The googly-eyed ones. Usually they get over it, but... not always. Guess she might be more hesitant now. They were happy to let you take her, though?" He turns his gaze towards Alida, apparently genuinely curious. "All 'it is an honour for you to take away our young people' or whatever?"

To Ilicaeth, Cadejoth's approval is firm, and accompanied by a jangle of chains. « We don't want weak ones, » he agrees. « Or frightened ones. Only the strong may join the pack. » Surely Cadejoth is not advocating culling the weak... but he seems pleased with this concept. « You've found lots of strong ones, for my eggs? »

That face of the man's inspires a shaggy, quiet hint of dark laughter from Alida, who then nods her agreement. "She'd be out uv 'er friggin' mind if she wasn't." Snert. Pause. "Ilicaeth says he'll check 'er mettle with me in a few hours." Should the bluerider look so darkly pleased at this upcoming task? Smirk. "Oh, that's what their *mouths* said, but I got the feeling they were all too happy ta have the kid farmed out somewhere else. Some kind uv hellion 'r whatever, I guess. Or maybe restless... 'r the black sheep." Shrug. "How's yer boy holdin' up ta' bein' a Guard?" Grin.

Agreed. Fright that runs rampant in a mind is a weakness. Fear needs to be dealt with, overcome, made to bend to the will. « A half-handful... » Images of the dragonhealer apprentice, an older teen boy, and this new, daft cotholder girl are offered, set on the backdrop of Alida's capable hand. Hee. (To Cadejoth from Ilicaeth)

Rather more neutral is K'del's expression in answer to that dark pleasure-- though there is just the faintest hint of a smirk about the corners of his mouth, just barely visible. "Good," he approves. "Ah, yes. Or just one too many mouths to feed. Well, luckily we're not short, for now, so if she can find her feet, she's welcome. Doesn't hurt of she spreads her story to the others, makes sure everyone knows not to make her mistake." His gaze slides back towards the sands, studying his dragon. "He's bored, a lot of the time. So proud of Hraedhyth and the eggs, but... it's boring, and he gets restless. Reckon he half wishes things like this would happen more often, so he can actually do something."

"That, too..." Alida notes in a lazy point of finger to K'del, her gaze shifting from the man back out to the heated scene before them, but not before said finger is tugging at the throat tab of her flying leathers. "Fuckin' fergot about the heat in 'ere..." Yes, already she's starting to sweat. Ugh. Nods are given to word of the bronze and his boredom, the blonde giving a small, wicked little slice of a grin, then calling out low to Cadejoth, "Yer welcome." Grin. Aside to K'del again is murmured, "Easier than Fort's got it, with their newest clutch comin' up."

But fear itself? Fear is useless. Cadejoth knows this; he approves of this. « One learns to manage the fear, » he tells Ilicaeth, pleased. « Fear should never overcome you. » The blue's half-handful is equally approved of: « Good. Good. Only strong ones. Worthy ones. My eggs will only Impress to the very best! Because my eggs are the best. » And, okay, his grandchildren aren't bad either. (To Ilicaeth from Cadejoth)

K'del has long since abandoned his jacket, and even has his sleeves rolled up; he gives Alida a knowing smile for her discomfort. "That's why I stick to sitting up here, rather than down on the sands themselves. It's a nice change for outside, but... shells. Glad not to be doing it down south, you know?" On the sands, Cadejoth huffs back at Alida; his rider smirks. "Mmm. Fort's had a run of bad luck. Should be only a small clutch, though, given the length of the flight, and the brown sire. Hopefully the other two queens hold off until things improve."

« Fear is natural; it can inspire... » When it's under control, the blue agrees right back. Yes... Ilicaeth is rather picky about his choices of Candidates; he'd rather leave a 'maybe' behind in favor of a stronger sense of 'yes; *this* one.' It's why he made the effort to bring back the cotholder girl. Though the blue offers a shaggy little chortle at the fatuousness of the bronze over 'his eggs' being perfect, he can't help but puff out his mental chest just a hint over his *own* 'best-ness.' « I am pretty damned good... » Grin. (To Cadejoth from Ilicaeth)

"Better in here than out in *that* slop. Why can't it just rain 'r snow?" Alida mutters sourly. She was out in it on a sweep, after all. Cadejoth's huff has the woman showing all the teeth in her head to the bronze, then offering him a mocking little bow. Back to K'del is murmured, "Any other queens gone up that early, before, in livin' memory? Sure can't be easy on Lilah *or* Eli." Pause. "At least they ain't eatin' outside anymore."

To Ilicaeth, Cadejoth, not a dragon especially known for Search capabilities, has no such things to share; still, he readily agrees with Ilicaeth, chains jangling merrily. « You are. You are of Hraedhyth, » who is pretty damn good herself, also being of Cadejoth, « And that is important. »

As fierce as his dam, but in different ways, Ilicaeth rumbles his assent to his 'grand-dad,' then gives him a friendly little shoulder-bump, his sands and mica swirling about the bronze's chains, making them rather reflective for some moments. (To Cadejoth from Ilicaeth)

"Bring on spring," agrees K'del; no hesitation there. "At least once it's just mud all the time, we know it's not going to freeze again." Hopefully. "None I've heard of," he admits, lowly, with an unescaped sigh. "She mentioned there was some discussion about it being her fault, and that's... that's just crap." The way he's staring so intently away, so serious and so uncomfortable, suggests he's thinking of something else-- possibly, given givens, the last queen to have an unusually early flight. But, of course, Ysavaeth's flight was faked. "Feel for her. For them."

Only another nose-wrinkle answers K'del's words of a hopeful upcoming Spring, though it fades quickly as Alida listens to what the Weyrleader has to say about what's up at Fort. A look over at the man transitions into a full peer at him, the bluerider's expression rather disbelieving at first, then scathing. "Seriously? They're blamin' her over it?" Eyeroll. Stuuuupid, says her look. "Ya can't influence a dragon ta go inta' heat." Idiots. Headshake. "Alright; I'm outta' this inferno. Gotta cool *down*, now." Ah, irony. "I'll keep ya up ta' date about googly-eyes." Snork.

"Right?" Stupid, clearly. The whole thing. K'del manages to push a smile back onto his face a moment later, nodding quickly as he does so. "Appreciate it. Have a good one, Alida." For now, he's going to stay here and make sure the two dragons aren't bothered any further, thank you very much.