Logs:Geopolitical Dragon Bathing
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| RL Date: 25 August, 2013 |
| Who: Alida, Cadejoth, Ilicaeth, K'del |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: Alida and K'del bathe their dragons - who talk. Later, the two riders talk too, about events at Fort. |
| Where: Hot Springs, High Reaches Area |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
| Mentions: Aishani/Mentions, Ali/Mentions, Azaylia/Mentions, Ebeny/Mentions, Iolene/Mentions, Lujayn/Mentions, Hattie/Mentions, Rone/Mentions, Tiriana/Mentions, Z'ian/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Backdated slightly. |
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| Hot Springs, High Reaches Area
Of the clearings that abut the spring, the nearest is only a few steps away, though it's small enough that only a few dragons can lounge at once. A steep trail descends to its substantially larger neighbor, a gravel-strewn crescent with enough space to spread out and enjoy the crisp air and the mountain range's admittedly spectacular views.
One of those scrubbing their dragon in the sultry pools is Alida, Ilicaeth wallowing in the heated waters like a beached whale, his belly up towards the sun while his nose just barely pokes up out of the water. Beneath the surface, inner lidded, green eyes look all about while his 'rider - kneeling upon her lifemate's barrel/chest - attacks an itchy spot there with sand and a stiff-bristled brush. Unlike K'del - who's nearby - the blonde listens intently as possible to the gossip, though she doesn't appear to be doing more than concentrating on Ilicaeth's hide. It's only when he makes a silent request of her, and the blonde responds with an internal 'Huh?' and an external blink of greens peering down at her blue, that she might even be glimpsed as being 'of two minds.' "Maybe Rone's building an army," is one brownrider's opinion, carrying across the pool despite the splashing of dragons. Despite his rider's fervor, Cadejoth seems to be enjoying his scrubbing - certainly, he keeps wriggling merrily, and letting out happy rumbles. Often, that would be enough to soothe whatever mood K'del is in, but not, it seems, today: the bronzerider doesn't even seem to be communing with his dragon, who is left no choice but to reach out to others nearby, instead. « It's a beautiful day for flying, » Cadejoth declares. « After we finish, I'm going to circle around the mountains for a while. Unless we go back out. » 'Out' clearly weighs heavily, but the bronze is irrepressible. K'del, meanwhile, perched on one of those massive forelimbs, seems to have run out of soapsand. He turns: Alida is closest. Stiffly (distractedly), he wonders: "Got some spare sand?" Moving her attentions to another spot on Ilicaeth requires that Alida crawl on hands and knees while her blue simultaneously rolls a bit. The delicate motions are accomplished slowly, but surely, finding the blonde in shorts and a tank top now perched on one gritty-blue side, dutifully attacking it. With Cadejoth's chatting comes the blue's easy baritone reply, wound in amongst the other dragon voices responding. « Why the mountains? How 'bout a different place? » The sands of Igen are offered in counterpoint to mountains, the heated dryness of a desert atmosphere apparently a draw for the blue, who then rumbles a lazy, « Back outs 'r usually not for fun. » At least that's how the blue sees them. How about Cadejoth? As for K'del's inquiry - which brings a jerk up of head from Alida, then a quick nod to the bronzerider - there soon comes a 'delivery' in the form of one growing, dark-sunflower colored firelizard. After nabbing up a smaller bag of sweetsand from the shore beside Alida's gear, the flit buzzes it over to the 'second, chittering above him to get his attention, and then waiting for him to open his hands before she drops the bag into them. « We've been to Igen, » explains Cadejoth, heavily. They've been to a lot of places, his mental images suggest: to Ista, to Bitra, to Tillek and Benden Hold as well. But not, and the absense seems heavy in his mind, to Boll or to Fort. All those different skies would be fine, if only he were allowed to explore them properly. K'del is bemused by the firelizard, but not so much that he can't accept the bag with a nod of thanks - and a second one that's actually aimed towards Alida. Still stiff, but nonetheless genuine: "Thanks." Usually, he'd use it as an opportunity to begin a conversation - even with someone like Alida - but today, the generally loquacious man is taciturn... though he stiffens abruptly when a comment is made about the recent rescue of the two Fortian goldriders. « Ahh... » Ilicaeth replies, flicking through visualizations of those other places Cadejoth mentions, then rolling out a glimpse of the WeaverHall from above, as well as Fort Weyr...and maybe a glimpse of one grumpy/crazy green Weyrlingmaster dragon upon its rim. « Heard about that Boll thing, yet? » the blue inquires with the barest of curiosity. Once the bag of grit is in K'del's hands, Pyrite chitters again - this time directly to Cadejoth, asking him if she can land on him - while Alida calls over her usual alto, "Welcome." She can't help but see that stiffening of his when he overhears that blurb, the bluie dragging lower teeth across upper lip for a moment before Ilicaeth's again ordering her to attend to his next in what seems like a triggered series of itches: this time, upon his wingsail. Cadejoth knows but also doesn't know that green dragon-- there's a connection, but not one he can quantify (he's long since forgotten that she is, in fact, his daughter). He's less discomforted by Ilicaeth's mention of Boll, though his immediate reaction is a wash of stars, and a glimpse of Ali's face: starkly remembered. « They're safe, » is his answer, his mental chains yearning towards those stars. « Or so we hear. He worries, still. His egg. » The bronze doesn't seem to object to the firelizard landing upon him, though he continues not to remain still. His rider is used to that, though, and able to hold on despite the movement-- though he freezes, giving his dragon a look, genuinely horrified. « Laurienth... » Ilicaeth supplies, picking the green's name from his rider's mind, the blue chuffing a soft roll of mental humor over the green's testy temperament. The image of Ali's face is studied in lazy fashion, as are those wash of stars, the blue's swirl of golden sands bobbing in a head nod of acknowledgement, that idea of 'his egg' finding both some curiosity and more confusion growing within Ilicaeth. After some moments for thought, « You flew... » No, not Laurienth. She can't produce eggs. More rummaging in Alida mind brings up, « Isyath? » No, wait. /Her/ eggs are now weyrlings. She couldn't have risen again, already. Wait. /His/ doesn't necessarily mean Cadejoth's. While Ilicaeth puzzles, Pyrite lands on the bronze, then settling into a leisurely 'stroll' upon his hide while he moves, the firelizard keeping her upright purchase while also kneading her little claws against his hide as she goes. Apparently, she's in a grooming mood. As Alida moves to crawl out onto Ilicaeth's fore-sail, she again catches K'del's expression while the woman's calling out to the bronzer, "If she bugs either uv' ya', just order her off." Blink. « Laurienth, » acknowledges Cadejoth, pleased. Yes. He does know her. The blue's confusion could be easily cleared up, but the bronze is stifled; he cuts off what might have been an explanation, and instead says, « We often fly together. » His chains, her stars. But there's no heat there: this is flying, not a flight. He certainly does seem to be referring to Isyath and not Laurienth, though. His head turns, allowing him to watch the firelizard, his amusement suggested via a huff of warm air. "Hm?" K'del's caught out, so lost in distraction that it takes a moment for Alida's words to sink in. Pink-cheeked: "Oh, no. She's fine. He likes them." He, this being K'del, has to clamber up towards his bronze's neckridges, attacking them with furious industry, and his scrubbing brush. « Flyin's good... » Ilicaeth rumbles out amidst a languid stretch as his rider finds that itchy spot on his wing, the blue's sands crawling and jouncing in rippling fashion as the sensation is soothed out of his hide. There's a gust of dancing sand in dark humor for that stifling of the bronze, then a casual, « We ain't met 'er. » Isyath. Yet. « Is she nice? » As opposed to, say, a testy Hraedhyth guarding her eggs, the image again nabbed from his rider's mind. As the dragons talk, the firelizard peers at the bronze in return for a moment, then dipping her head against his hide to procure herself a little bit of suds, which she then rubs furiously against Cadejoth. Self-bathing. As for Alida, she simply nods at her flit's antics - conveniently ignoring K'del's embarrassment - then settling into scrubbing Ilicaeth's 'sail with a more gentle scrub brush and sweetsand. After a minute or so has passed, the bluie calls up and over to the bronzer, "Got enough?" Sand, likely. That is something blue and bronze, grandsire and grandson, can certainly agree on: flying is wonderful. Cadejoth's wings extend, as if on cue, but he's not actually going anywhere - not with his rider so precariously situated, and the firelizard too. « She's fun, » is Cadejoth's opinion. Hraedhyth he likes, too, but differently. Isyath is... Isyath. She's flying and stars and glee; they're all good things, wonderful things. « Hraedhyth will have eggs soon. Perhaps we will find candidates for them. » Cadejoth's neck arches against the glorious sensation of the combination of scrubbing brush and firelizard; he's pleased. His rider is, once again, distracted - but this time, he manages to glance around and give Alida a half smile. "Plenty, thanks." Beat. "Used more than I intended, scrubbing, but we're fine now." While Ilicaeth's not one of those super acrobatic blues, he certain does enjoy a good time in the sky, and the sentiment is shared with Cadejoth in a languid look at the harbors of Southern Hold from above, with all her red sails and sunlit, blue waters. Mmm. « They're all inn'erestin'... » the blue sighs languidly of the various golds he's heard of so far. Hraedhyth is alluded to with a scouring ripple of fiery heat and the sense of draconic bodies clashing in mock battle; Iesaryth with relaxing ripples of sea foam and sandcastles, as well as a pirate ship seen from above. And there's Isyath too, a borrowed sprinkle of stars and wind and definitely that glee gusting by. A lurching of a sand dune is Ilicaeth's nod for word of their queen's upcoming eggs, the blue then toying with this idea of finding humans suited for them. « Hmm... maybe. » He's never felt the urge to Search. « What's it like? » Upon the bronze's hide, Pyrite continues her ministrations - of herself and Cadejoth - soft sounds of pleasure eminating from the little gold, Alida nodding distractedly to K'del as she totes that barge, scrubs that sail. "I almost always bring extra." Could be a guard habit. Southern Hold is one place Cadejoth has not been of late - and he seems pleased by the reminder, basking in the sensation of those imagined rays of sun, and those blue waters so different to the ones he's currently enjoying in actuality. « They are, » agrees Cadejoth, adding to the mix the recollection of queens he's known in the past: Ysavaeth's honeyed warmth, Iovniath's bitter chill. They're faint, though, memories borrowed from his rider, and insubstantial as a result: they have nothing on the queens of now. On search, « It's a knowing. You can feel it. Feel them. It's fun. » "Smart," says K'del, of Alida's habit. "Better to be prepared. Guess I wasn't--" Hesitation. He doesn't look at her. "Thinking about it. Too much." Ilicaeth takes in those reminices from Cadejoth, the blue turning them around in his facile mind like pebbles in a tumbler, then stretching again in his mind. Mm...such a good day...good scrubbings. Casually, « There ever been any blues that've flown a gold? » And then there's the mulling over of this unknown 'feeling' to be had, the blue understanding immediately that it must be instinctive. Still, he's curious. « I heard other blues say we're the best Searchers. » Again; is this true? As for preparation, "Guard thing, I guess..." Alida responds from her lower perch on Ilicaeth's partially extended wing. A quick glance over to the bronzerider at his next words has the blonde thinking quietly, nodding absently. After some moments, "Heard they're okay." « None I've heard of, » Cadejoth declares; he's amused by the idea, by the size difference, though it doesn't seem to be intended to imply he's laughing at Ilicaeth. « Some say that blues are. I don't know if anyone has really determined it! We search a little, not a lot. But I know we've found some. » Some good ones, even. He's sure of it... even if he doesn't remember who they might be. K'del stretches, now, evidently coming to an end of places to scrub, though Cadejoth has yet to try and make a getaway. Alida's final remark has him turning his gaze back towards her, expression aiming for impassive - and failing. "More or less," he confirms. "As okay as they can be, after... that. Horrifying." There's a rumble of assent to Cadejoth's statement, Ilicaeth not taking any sort of offense...the blue simply perusing the idea, the bronze's reactions. As for Searching, « I figure it's individual. » Some dragons are good at it, others aren't. Golden sands shrug slightly. Alida - unlike K'del - is still slaving away on her lifemate, who seems in no shortage of a dearth of places for his rider to scrub, the blonde crawling over his foresail to the secondary one at its rear, then attacking it. Along the way, keen greens catch the man's failed 'level' face, her head bobbing a pair of times. It's only when she's done moving that her alto touches the air again. "Pretty ballsy ta' pull that off." The takeover, blackmail those renagades enacted. "Figure all the Weyrs might start watchin' their coverage areas more closely fer suspicious shit." Shrug, scrub, grunt. "Wonder if they're gonna' start tryin' ta raid others' hatchin' grounds, given they apparently ain't got a queen." A pointed look under one of her arms is aimed at K'del. « Very much so, » confirms Cadejoth. « Some dragons do, some dragons never do. » K'del wipes his forehead with the back of one hand, affixing a keen eye on Alida, clearly not surprised - and also not terribly comfortable - with what she has to say. "Think you're right," he confirms. "They've pulled off one such egg heist. Maybe Fort is too careful to let that happen again, but the rest of us? We all think we're safe. So far, we have been. But..." He sucks in a deep breath, and then slides, carefully, down his dragon's side. "Last thing we need is for something like that to spread here. If they could do this... they could do anything. Capable of anything. That's what worries me. Even," his smile is not a terribly pleasant one, "if it's not my job to worry about it." « Maybe... » Ilicaeth chuffs softly to the thought of Searching, the blue then lapsing into silence as his mind starts to drift a little under the pleasure of his lifemate's scrubbings. Mmm...delicious. To K'del's own assessment, Alida grunts a low acknowledgement as she scrubs, calling out to the side in the bronzer's direction, "Can't hurt, bein' a little more watchful, a little more aware. Even if 'Reaches *does* have a 'wild woman' like Hraedhyth on the Sands." At the man's words of it not being his job, the woman smirks broadly, and can't help but chuckling a bit. "Bet that's a relief..." is noted pragmatically. As K'del steps into the water, Cadejoth lowers himself into it - all the better to try and rinse away the remaining soapsand foam. The bronzerider backs away from the splash that results, shielding his face as best he can. "Can you imagine Hraedhyth--" Perhaps it doesn't bear thinking about, really, because K'del stops, and lets that idea go. "Well. Who even knows if we'll have a queen to steal." He's less certain of the answer to her last question, his shoulders rolling back and forth several times before, finally, "Yes and no. In a way... sometimse it's easier, knowing it's up to you. Knowing that at least you can trust yourself to do your best. Which isn't to say that I don't trust Azaylia and Z'ian..." Pyrite wings up from Cadejoth, the flit soon diving into the water beside the still Ilicaeth, and swimming to clear her own hide from soapsand. Rinse! The blue's form only bobs a little in the water when the bronze displaces it a bit, Ilicaeth chuffing softly at his grandsire. "Don' even wanna' go there..." Alida notes dryly of Hraedhyth. *She's* seen close up just how irked the gold can get, and that wasn't with any egg stealing going on. "True... but any dragon eggs'd only add ta their ranks." Something about the utter lawlessness, the more-than implied brutality of those renegades rankles the guard, even though she's no longer the upright figure she used to be some Turns ago... Alida's upper lip curling a little. "Ya *know* exactly wha'cha can and can't do." She understands *completely*, her tone says. "Exactly so," agrees K'del, letting the water rush up against his legs, and then deeper, as he wades into the water further. "And you're still powerless, in a way, but at least you have all the information... you have your hands on things, rather than just having to watch. It's hard, getting used to that." He adds, then, returning to that earlier topic: "That's true. They could be infiltrating all the Weyrs, ready to steal our dragons away. It's a sobering thought." The glance he aims at Alida implies pretty strongly that he's appalled by it all-- but it's personal, too. From the look of small bitter knowingness found upon the scrubbing Alida's features when K'del speaks of powerlessness, she understands him all too well. As for the bronzerider's next words, there's a shrug. "Given my...mistrusting habit," smirk "...I don' wanna' say anymore, 'less others think me some kinda fuckin' foamin'-at-the-mouth paranoid." Bitter, still. Snerk, scrub. She doesn't seem as horrified at the Boll incident, but there's definitely outrage. "If there was somone from the Weyrs that could be infiltrated inta' that group somehow - like a potential Candidate with the right, anti-Weyr lookin' creds..." Shrug. K'del gives Alida a long glance, but he is not showing any suggestion in his expression that he considers her paranoid (at least at this particular moment). "If there were," is his quiet opinion, "I'm sure Fort has considered looking at it. For the moment, it's not our problem-- and historically, our relationship with Fort is not good enough that I expect they'd trust us. No; until and unless it actually impacts us, we've just got to sit and watch, and hope that they'll get the whole thing under control." Cadejoth, finally, begins to lumber back out of the water, rising up enough that he can get his wings up and out-- and launch himself. "Apparently," says K'del, "that's my cue." She listens to K'del while tending Ilicaeth, Pyrite finally fluttering out of the water to perch upon one of the blue's headknobs, now that he's upright in the water and still. Looking distractedly at the flit as she scrubs her dragon's wing, the blonde finally murmurs back to the bronzer, "Uv' course. All the 'remaining apart' stuff..." Shrug. Pause...smiiirrrk. "Is our reputation good with anybody, these days?" And with that darkly humored little rejoinder, the woman is lifting a hand in silent farewell, and balancing herself as Cadejoth moves back onto land. Ilicaeth offers a more socialized, « Later... » to his grandsire. "Honshu," is the only thing K'del can offer in reply to that, and even then... Lujayn is Lujayn. It's impossible to know if that will last. Still, K'del has half a smile on his face as, nodding, he turns around and wades back to shore - back to his towel and his things, and to where Cadejoth is, reluctantly, landing for him. « Enjoy! » says the bronze, before they disappear off into the sky.
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