Logs:Still No Help At All
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| RL Date: 6 January, 2013 |
| Who: H'kon, Azaylia |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: Azaylia gets a late night visit from H'kon, and neither do anything to make the other feel better. |
| Where: Azaylia and Hraedhyth's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
| Mentions: Barnabas/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Thanks goes to Bones, for permission to NPC his sleeping carcass. :D |
| Azaylia and Hraedhyth's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr Accessed via a narrow staircase from the Weyrleader's Complex, or from the broad, sunny ledge beyond, this weyr was clearly designed to be for one of the weyr's junior queens. Spacious, but not extravagant, it boasts a well-sized outer room, narrowing in front the dragon couch and ledge beyond. Much of this main room has been turned over to a couch and several chairs which circle the hearth and the blue rug in front of it. There's a low table here, too, set in the middle of that rug. A tack-cupboard stands tidily behind the couch, keeping out of sight a rider's paraphernalia. Three low steps lead up onto a peculiar little landing, just large enough for the brand new desk and set of shelves that have been placed there. Here, too, there are definite pointers to the lived-in state of the weyr despite the newest resident's attempts at tidying what she can when it comes to the piles of hidework on her desk. Behind the workspace, a narrow passage leads in an inner set of chambers, made up of a sleeping cavern and a private bathing area. A decent-sized bed fills much of the space, the mattress piled high with overstuffed down pillows, comforter. There's a nightstand on either side, and against one of the other walls, a tall, heavy wardrobe made from a dark wood that matches the bed. The bathing area is part of the same cavern, a folding screen shielding the toilet and slightly raised, double-sized bathtub built into the stone, and a small shelf to hold toiletries. Unusually, the walls, ceiling and floor of this weyr have all been whitewashed thickly, covering the natural stone. One of the walls has a full sized quilt pulled taut and secure to reveal the work that went into it. It has a decorative border and a pieced-together design in the middle: the spires of High Reaches, with a tawny gold dragon high above, flying through the blue sky. Embroidered into the lower corner is an 'M' to signify the maker. The hearth is also brand new, as are most of the built-in fittings, as though they have recently needed to be replaced. These are not the only oddities to be found within their home... It's late, when Arekoth finds his way home to High Reaches and announces himself to the watchdragon, a slight tremor of excitement behind his tones. His wings are quiet, and they don't carry him to his ledge, nor to those ledges of any greens he and his rider will sometimes visit, past conquests. No. Even if it's not the time for physical training - the thing that's seen he and his rider to Azaylia and Hraedhyth more often than any other, these days - it's to that same ledge that they go. « Hraedhyth, » has all the sound of a dragon bursting with half-secret information, a simmering excitement, even a flash of yellowed aurora. Friend or foe, Hraedhyth finds it easy to rouse when any dragon enters the territory she shares with her sister gold. Especially when they choose to land on her ledge. Arekoth certainly isn't a foe, though he's not in great favor as the tawny dragon curls herself more tightly around her charges for the evening. Two grown greens, and a blue that's small enough to be one of the weyrling dragons- quite possibly stolen off his new ledge. « Arekoth. » Not to say she isn't curious, ashen head rising as flames lick at the echo of that yellow hue. « Is she awake? » It's a question likely prompted by H'kon, but the brown's intonations make it, rather, a suggestion. She -should- be awake. It would be good. And as to the little brownrider, he's not at all the picture of excitement, not hurrying to unstrap himself from his dragon. No, he peers hawkishly at the other lumps of dragon under Hraedhyth's care, pressing his lips together, furrowing his brow. Maybe this was not such a grand idea. « She might be. » Could be? Not a lie, Hraedhyth's rumbling contralto is just a touch more ambiguous this late in the evening. « It is not. » A flash of matted fur coat, leather cuffs and raspy laugh are all burned up in her fire, annoyance carried off on black smoke. Cool blue gaze shifts from brown dragon to his rider, staring right at H'kon as he peers at her bedmates, tail swinging around to circle them further. Bare feet smack lightly against cool stone as Azaylia is suddenly there, black hair disheveled but not enough to gauge if she was sleeping. "H'kon?" Whispered voice is even more so as she clutches the blue robe to herself, "Is something wrong?" She's not looking to meet him halfway, the chill of autumn too much for her sleepwear. « Mightn't she, » is low, caramelly in sound, though the aurora has faded. Arekoth settles, crouches. H'kon stops with his hands on his belt when Azaylia steps out, and leans back from his perch between his dragon's ruffled 'ridges. "Azaylia," greets her in turn. An answer is longer to come forth, and he looks again to those the gold protects. "I did not think to check," is grated between tight teeth, "if you were otherwise occupied." Azaylia braves the cool air with a few more steps, knees tucking in and bare feet crossing over each other. "W-What?" Not unusual when talking to H'kon, and it takes a rumble from the gold to help her rider understand. "O-oh! No. Those are just Hraedhyth's guests. I don't- well, Bones is asleep on the couch." Dismissive, as if she's speaking of a pet canine rather than the large man. "Did you want to come inside?" Is hopeful, not just for the brownrider's company but for the warmth she's been coaxed out of. Hraedhyth stops watching H'kon to instead peer at Arekoth, « She is getting the cold-bumps on her legs. » Drums threaten to turn into an impatient growl. H'kon lifts his head to acknowledge the explanation of those dragons, presses at the strap clip with a thumb. "Is he," brings that bearded chin back down, brings a slight narrowing of his eyes. It's with Arekoth's encouragement, in the form of a little shimmy, that the taciturn rider completes his task, slides from his dragon's neck, and once he's landed, nods. He waits only for Azaylia to lead the way thereafter. Azaylia isn't so tired as to miss the narrowing of H'kon's eyes, but she's willing to blame it on the moonlight. "Yes?" And she'll prove it, leading the brownrider into her weyr with impatient, hopping little steps. Bare feet on cold stone, while refreshing at first, gets old incredibly fast. Once her toes can curl into a warm rug, the junior is far more accommodating in the cozy main room, "Is there..?" Choosing not to ask that question, she tries again in a voice that isn't as quiet as one might expect, given the lightly snoring man-mountain spread out on the couch. "This is a nice surprise." His visit. She passes Bones on her way to brighten a glow, pausing to heft his hanging arm up and letting it thump back onto his chest. Beyond a halt in his gentle, open-mouthed breathing, he doesn't stir. Heavy sleeper. The rephrasing has H'kon pausing in his follow-the-leader tailing of Azaylia, tilting his head just so. Bones is accorded a long look as Azaylia checks him, a quick inhalation the only signal of a would-be question (or two) on that man, that dies before it's passed the brownrider's lips. "I know it's not a convenient time," serves as apology, once they're past the sleeping dog left lying, the comment then turned to a half-chide by, "You need not fear saying as much." But he doesn't step to leave. "I'm not." Azaylia answers, sounding surprised. "I'm just curious, is all." She turns a few glows, making it a bit more comfortable for the two conscious riders, no longer clutching at her robe. Thankfully, it's secured tight. "You're welcome to visit at any time..." She gives a soft laugh, finally turning to the brownrider as her hands find her hips. "I think you kind of already knew that." Or else he wouldn't be here, would he? Walking back over, her hands fall behind her, though once reaching H'kon she's at a loss for what to do. "So..?" Her usual uncertainty returns with a vengeance. The dip of his head is more confirmation. Yes, he knew. H'kon draws himself up straight when Azaylia's full before him, hesitation evident only in the touching of teeth, his own hands going behind his back, quite unconsciously. A moment's silent only makes, "What were you?" the more abrupt. "Before Hraedhyth." It's the clipped words that are the usual for the brownrider of late, but green eyes are on her, intent. Azaylia is startled by his sudden question, "W...well I was looking over hides- oh." She quiets when it seems that he's not quite done, ducking her head in embarrassment. It gets worse when it takes her longer than it should to answer, as if that life has been forgotten. "An apprentice. Beastcraft apprentice." Fingers twist nervously behind her, the comfortable distance between them not seeming enough with H'kon so focused on her. Her head gives a curious tilt upwards, peeking, "Why?" "So little history with the Weyr," comes almost simultaneous to her 'why'. "Little beyond the norm - an interval norm, which is perhaps not so great." That look of his remains, all these words already thought and figured. Probably wherever he and his dragon were, before their return, their drop to the ledge where Arekoth still waits, separate from Hraedhyth and her would-be brood. "No shared past with those around you, short of your clutch, or others who were Beastcrafters as well?" Azaylia keeps the look of surprise on her face this time, embarrassment cast away for the faintest furrow of her brow. Her lips part, but whatever instinct might want her to say is curbed by manners. "I haven't been here as long as you have, no..." This time she does take a faint step back, arms brought forward to hug herself with oversized sleeves. Still, she forces herself to keep his gaze, her head tilted downwards in order to do so. "My Journeyman went back to the Hall before I impressed." The hint of guilt in her tone might seem misplaced, pushed away as she tries, "I've known K'del for as long as I've been... what does it matter?" Discomfort finally prompts her to question the man. H'kon starts to shake his head partway through her babbling, finally waving a hand before him, only to tense his arm and curl in his fingers with, "It matters. Less so perhaps when dragonriders fought, when lives depended upon each other, but now?" What's bordering on the beginning of a tirade is drawn back, and H'kon takes a breath, lets it out with a drop of his shoulders. "Shared pasts bind us together, but what of when we won't have that, nor a shared enemy?" And somewhere there, he's lost visual focus, eyes drifting off from Azaylia. Azaylia looks to H'kons fist. With tense shoulders she finds his gaze once more, her own much more alert now. Eyes bright with a familiar fire, her arms remain wrapped around her torso. "Duty to the weyr?" She offers, more of a suggestion than a solid answer. "I don't work hard because I grew up with everybody in the Weyr, or because of Thread." He's made it abundantly clear that those can't be her reasons. With lips pursed, she swims within his unfocused eyes before offering gently, "You should have a cup of klah." Something sobering. "To which Weyr," H'kon murmurs, still within his own head more than addressing that poor goldrider now. "It works for a time, but then what, when there are so many, when they oppose one another?" He focuses up on her when she mentions klah, unfists that hand to waive the offer, points a finger at Azaylia to redirect. "The only singular Weyr is the rock. How long can there be duty to that, I wonder." But he's reached, if not the end, at least a stopping point, and he falls silent thereafter. H'kon is given his time to speak, Azaylia far more interested in observing the brownrider's strange behavior. Well, stranger. "To my," She stops to correct herself, "To our Weyr. High Reaches comes first." The finger has her leaning back, away from the somehow accusatory digit. "I don't know what you want to hear, H'kon." Is a little more firm, reaching up to brush his hand away, motion rather delicate for what it is. She keeps hold after, giving his fingers a squeeze that is meant to be comforting before pulling back. Silence, save for Hraedhyth's aggravated, « This was what you were excited for? » Because she is far from impressed, Arekoth. "High Reaches," and there's an element of Arekoth's on certain brand of scorn in his rider's voice, fleeting, "is plural even in name." He lets his finger be pushed aside, though that squeeze warrants a look that follows her hand, even after she's let go. « Shh! » On the ledge, the brown shifts his feet, and bobs his head from one side to the other. « It's better when it comes out of this end. » Any of the brown's bravado is long gone from H'kon after, a sigh bringing about a weary shake of his head, a wearier, "I wonder what will come of all those parts." And there, he takes a step back. Even the slow, steady whorl of Hraedhyth's eyes seem unamused as she stares at Arekoth. Rather than even begin to ask, she turns her attention on the dragon bodies still huddled up against her. Azaylia finally looks hurt at the scorn, another step taken back to help steady herself. "...I think you should leave." Is finally uttered, pushing on that step in order to brush past the brownrider towards the ledge. "I don't know what I did but it... Just go." Her plea is punctuated by the sound of a heaving snort from Bones, possibly rousing at the faintest sign of distress. She might have splashed him with cold water, the way that look becomes sharp and aware and more than a bit uncomfortable. "If you wish," is cobbled together after a moment's gaping, and H'kon blinks once, hard, a lesser form of the head-clearing shake. A step toward the ledge, another, and a quiet, "You've done nothing," that sounds of apology and hurt before he steps outside. Azaylia's face softens instantly at his tone, reaching out even as H'kon steps onto the ledge. "I'll... I'll see you for a run, soon." While the weather is still decent, though snow has rarely ever stopped her. There's nothing else she can think to say, leaning against the stone wall to see him off. Hraedhyth has settled once more, head resting atop her paws as she waits until Arekoth's taken his troublemaker away. Only then does she allow her lids to fall.
CommentsBrieli (Brieli) left a comment on Mon, 07 Jan 2013 03:27:07 GMT. <
EMO.
< Ahh, people crashing into each other.
"High Reaches is plural even in name," which isn't something I've seen people comment on before, but makes such sense here.
< Hey, when introverts run around in their heads for too long, EMO is all that's left to them. And H'kon's mom was totally gonna be a brilliant Harper before she got fisherman'd. I love when he gets to do word play.
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Comments
Brieli (Brieli) left a comment on Mon, 07 Jan 2013 03:27:07 GMT.
<
EMO.
Varied (Varied) left a comment on Mon, 07 Jan 2013 07:07:42 GMT.
< Ahh, people crashing into each other.
« This was what you were excited for? »
Go, Hraedhyth, go!
"High Reaches is plural even in name," which isn't something I've seen people comment on before, but makes such sense here.
H'kon (H'kon) left a comment on Tue, 08 Jan 2013 03:00:59 GMT.
< Hey, when introverts run around in their heads for too long, EMO is all that's left to them.
And H'kon's mom was totally gonna be a brilliant Harper before she got fisherman'd. I love when he gets to do word play.
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