Logs:It's Elementary
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| RL Date: 5 September, 2013 |
| Who: Alida, Suireh, Riahla |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: In giving a lift for a new runner and a harper, Alida manages to get herself entangled in a missing person's investigation and then a dead body. |
| Where: High Reaches Weyr, Nabol Hold |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
| Mentions: Azaylia/Mentions, Z'ian/Mentions, R'hin/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Prue was present for the first few poses but then had a lot of RL happen so had to quit early on. |
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| It is an autumn afternoon, 15:35 of day 19, month 9, turn 32 of Interval 10. The morning's runs were parceled out by the Weyr postmaster-type deal (typically an assistant headwoman of sorts), and while the youth have gotten their choice of where to go, there's only a stack of packages left from the Weyr to the bfn of Nabol where it borders Ruatha. Prue is given an appraising look from Maretta, one that's not entirely impressed, before the sack of letters and small parcels are handed over. "You'll find your ride in the bowl. Bluerider, Glacier. Do you need a map?" But that last question isn't really meant sincerely as there's no map that comes forth nor is there any further help as the assistant headwoman, who really has better things to do than baby a new runner, heads back to those 'oh so important' tasks. "Yeah, nope." It's just as reassuring that Prue answers the rhetorical map question as that she answers it with such a nonchalant tone, surely. Add to it that the runner's gnawing on the last bit of a sweetroll, her fingers possibly sticky with it, and she's even less of a dependable vision than the small children who typically manage the affairs. At least Prue's adorned with a messenger bag that's voluminous enough to fit packages, and it's securely here that she rests those things needing to be spread about the Nabol border. With a softly executed, and outdated, salute, the runner slips out to follow the path to the bowl with only a single detour: her sweetroll was a last bit, after all. Gnawing on a second full bun, she breaks out into the cloudless sky of the Weyr exterior, squinting for a blue thing or a Glacier thing, or possibly another food cart. Awaiting the person who she's been assigned to transport to buttfuck nowhere (good thing she and Ilicaeth get around a decent amount, and have the proper visualizations), the bluepair sit like stone statues not too far from the entrance to the living cavern, Alida settled securely upon Ilicaeth's neck...both quietly enjoying the warm sunshine. It won't be much longer before the 'Reaches is buried in snow and chill. When the green-eyed blue dragon finally catches sight of someone with the requisite messenger bag, he internally rumbles an alert to Alida, who squints out in Prue's direction, shading her gaze with one hand. "Give 'er a call..." the quirky woman notes smirkily to her lifemate, who is quite glad enough to oblige. His eyes whirling up to a speedier blue, 'caeth turns his head directly towards Prue...and lets out a massive bugle. It's not ear-splitting, but certainly loud enough to make some other humans wandering around jump, and some other dragons bugle back in greeting. It's about this time that Suireh's venturing out of the inner caverns, a gitar slung over the singer's shoulder. There's a squint, a hand shade, and then a succession of blinks as she adjusts to the light of the cloudless day. Behind her is Maretta, a long arm gesturing towards... a beat and a look of wary weariness at the bugling blue thus indicated. "Faranth help me," is uttered low under her breath as she makes her slow path over. Very slow. Slow enough to take the lay of the land as it were between Prue, the blue, and the blue's rider. Prue's head whips back in a short startle, as much because the bugle's breeze sends her puffy hair standing extra on end as anything else. "Hidey ho..." is murmured as she picks up to a light jog, tiring gently even before quite reaching the short distance before the blue. As she sidles up beside the pair, her hand reflects Alida's in shading her gaze up. "Ya'll dragons know how to say 'hello'," is commented, though to rider. The heft that her bag is given would seem to prelude climbing up on the dragon, but her step back and eying of the transport suggests she hasn't the most experience in such things; a ride or two or three makes you no expert on the variety of dragons and their quirks, and she's either respectful of that or lazy to learn. Oh yes, this is grand! Startling the messenger and making some others near her groan pleases both Ilicaeth and Alida, the blue chuffing merrily, his rider flashing her teeth in a quick grin. After Prue closes the distance between them, speaks to Alida, the messenger gets a laconic, "*Ilicaeth* says 'Why thank you.' The blue's lowering his head down to the runner's level, and casting one big-ass blue eye upon her in unmoving fashion. Staaaare. As for Alida... one look at miss stickybuns down there is reason for her to wrinkle her nose, and note crisply, "Wash off yer hands, first. Don't want my gear or my dragon dirty." Or sticky. Ick. "There's a rain puddle over there..." Cue a point from the helmeted, goggled blonde's gloved fingertips towards said puddle about ten yards away to their south. As they wait, the bluerider's head lifts towards where Ilicaeth's mentioned they're under observation from, Suireh and any others standing there watched right back by the vaguely curious guard. "Indeed," is all Suireh says as she overhears what Prue says to the blue and his rider. So that slow trip sped up a little. "I hear you're headed Nabol-way." The harper shrugs the strap of her instrument a little higher along her shoulder. "I can pay for transport and a little more if you don't mind sticking around for a return. Or," those pale gray eyes skip a beat as they look to Prue and the satchel, "Maybe you'll be sticking around any way?" Back to Ilicaeth, rather than Alida, the slight woman offers a wry, "I'm light, I promise. If you can fit me on." Trotting over to that pool, Prue gets about halfway before, body shielding her from Alida's view, she ends up sucking the sticky off her fingers with a pop of lips on each one. Getting to the water about when she's done, she gives it a soft *splash*ing kick then twirls around to make her way back to them -- done and done. Her turn to overhear, she grins with a crook of her head towards the dragon, "Sure, doll. Come on up." Taking a swift lesson, she addresses Ilicaeth with a wandering, "So, now we, uh..." Do your magic, dragon, suggests the vaguely useless waving of her hands in front of them that perhaps illustrate 'up'. "Yep..." Alida notes to Suireh when she nears, the Journeyman given a respectful nod. Word of payment is almost shrugged aside before the woman stops herself, then notes in mellow alto, "An equal favor later's fine, ma'am." Shrug. It's no biggie. "We'll wait." Whether they'll be waiting around for Prue or not...*now* they will. As for the 'light' comment, "Ilicaeth's a strong, tough blue. No worries." Grin. Indeed, the grey-shaded, slatey dragon is indeed broad of frame, burly, almost granite-like...except for his long, twitchy tail and oft-flexing, coppery claws. As for the now clean-handed Prue, Alida nods her silent thanks, then frowning a little when the messenger just goes ahead and invites someone else up on *her* lifemate. And so, in answer to the messenger's vague words of how to get up upon a dragon, the now softly smirking 'rider notes evenly, "Ya climb up, like everyone else does." The blue makes it only a tiny bit easier by dipping his shoulder - after lifting his head and neck some for balance - the long strap for hand and foot climbing sent flopping down from the crest of his neck. "Grab that...there's knots fer hand 'n foot holds." "I'd much rather pay for your services, but thank you, Ilicaeth," a beat as she takes in the blue's rider with a faintly furrowed brow, "And Alida," says the harper, her hand falling to her pocket where the clink of wood marks against each other can be heard. Taking in an appraising eye of Prue, Suireh steps forward, "Mind if I go first?" And without really waiting for a by your leave, vaults herself up with the expertise of ... well, someone who grew up in this lifestyle. Once she's on top, however, a hand reaches down and a kinder (for her at least), "If you can't make it, I can help haul you the rest of the way." Half a gesture makes it out to show she's dandy with Suireh taking the lead; Prue forgets to complete it. Watching the harper swing up, she whistles softly, glancing around the bowl in the meantime so that she nearly misses the hand. It's taken, though, when noticed, and Prue scrambles up in a manner suggesting that, without Suireh, she would've been an even bigger embarrassment. But there's no shame on her face as she plants herself on the dragon, fingers coiling for straps before settling her messenger bag into place with a quick, surprisingly professional, check on the packages after. Secured, she leans forward, bumping a shoulder against Suireh in introduction. "I'm Prue, by the by, doll." "As ya' will..." Alida notes to Suireh's wish, the blonde pleased that the Harper's basically respectful of herself and her blue...who offers a gentle rumble back to the Journeyman. If Suireh needs or wants it, a quick, strong grip is given to haul her the last bit atop Ilicaeth's neck, the Harper then affixed into the dragon's safety straps. She's not quite as 'kind' as the crafter, only glancing down to make sure Prue makes it up without much incident (like falling), then turning to make certain the messenger is also well-tightened into her own safeties. She can't help but note the shoulder-bump between the other two females, but Alida doesn't comment...externally, anyway. It's only after everyone's secure, astride his neck that Ilicaeth stands up slowly, fully again, then opening his overly-large, 'eye'-marked wings...and crouching like a compressed spring. "Hold on..." is noted laconically, the blue then hurling himself skyward with a powerful leap. Soon enough, they're rising with the accompanying flap of wings far above the Weyr. "I'm no-," but what she might say is bitten back as the blue rises up, caught off guard by the speed with which things have progressed. "Su, you can call me Su," is what she says instead to both bluerider and runner as a belated introduction. There's that furrow of distraction once more on her brow as she looks down upon the Weyr getting smaller and then up again at the cloudless sky. "It gets cold," are the low words offered to Prue. "Don't get scared." Is that just a little bit mocking? Perhaps. Accepting the name with a succinct nod, Prue leans into her own seating, giving the harper new space as she watches the world turn into a mockery of its size when on the ground. Her hair flutters as she closes her eyes to let the breeze of flying go past and they pop open in another small startle when she picks up Suireh's final words. A pause; a slow, languid blink as she ponders with ample curiosity, "-- of what?" She caught that cut-off reprimand from 'Su,' but Alida's now too busy forming a solid mental image of their destination to bother with anything but that. Over her shoulder to the other females is called out above the wind, "Hold yer breath!" And on a quick mental count of three...they're Between... and three heartbeats later, back out above the requested cooridinates in bf Nabol. It's warmer here, muggier, even as the bluepair start their direct descent towards the ground. No spiralling, no lollygagging. "Three seconds and it's over and it can possibly feel like the longest three of your life," Suireh remarks, in an offhanded fashion. But her attention is most definitely not on the women atop the dragon with her, as gray eyes quickly descend to scan the lay of the land. The tops of cotholds distant from both major and minor holds are visible at this angle; brave souls who have ventured out with the Interval to try and make their own living -- with or without the Lord's permission. There's a series of creeks that separate various parcels of habitation and forested areas, unscathed by the last Pass. Picking autumn fruit off trees is the task du jour for most of the residents in this area, and the tops of their heads can be seen becoming less miniscule and more life-sized with Ilicaeth's descent. "Don't forget to try Mama Lynalice's redfruit pie before you leave. I mean," the dark-haired girl (cause let's face it, she's not really much of a woman yet in spite of her age), "If this is your first time here. She's in the cothold past the three orchards mapped out like a windmill's blades. Over there." And down Ilicaeth goes, the two passengers descending with Suireh giving Prue initial directions to the first cothold that she needs to deliver to. Then, the raven-haired harper looks up, hitching her gitar up on her shoulder some more again, almost as a nervous tic, and considers Alida under a shading hand. "Bluerider. Alida," she adds, softening the formality of her voice, "One more favor, one I would willingly barter a future favor for." With the wind of their descent, the flapping of Ilicaeth's pinions, Alida catches only snatches of 'Su's' words, and hopfully the point towards where 'pie' might be waiting later. But for now, the hard-working pair do their duty with the same intensity that they bring to relaxing, the blue backwinging, alighting to a landing with perhaps surprising (if economical) quiet and grace some distance away from the harvesters behind a dense cluster of trees and foliage. Why openly announce you're arriving if there might be something interesting to observe? Like rider, like dragon. With Prue going her non sticky-fingered way, Alida's left to descend to the ground last, green eyes taking in Suireh's mannerisms with characteristic guard keeness as the Journeyman addresses her. A faint lift of one eyebrow shows that - while the potential second request is a deviation from what the bluie might've considered SOP - she won't rule out the idea of that future favor. "I'm listenin'," is replied back in poker fashion. I'm looking for some- thing." There's a lengthy pause in between the two syllables of that one word, almost as if the thing was a substitute for another. Suireh's lips flatten briefly, into a thin line, before opening again with an audible exhalation. "I would appreciate another set of eyes. Or two." A glance cast upwards at Ilicaeth. "One from the skies. Two on the ground?" "Thing..." Alida repeats after that noticable pause, the bluerider's lips tipping into a small half-smirk for a moment, her gaze remaining level, however. "Given the neighborhood..." cue a deliberate glance all about them "...I c'n only wonder what the eyes're need for." There's only a little light sarcasm in her alto, though greens glitter a hint. "As long as we're not riskin' our lives 'r the Weyr's reputation, sure." Shrug. Suireh's open mouth again presses down, this time grim. "That's the way towards Ruatha, right?" There's gesture towards one direction, away from the cothold of the apple pies. "That's the last anyone saw of Lunmein. Headed towards Fort." Seekers require knowledge of what they seek, and without skipping a beat, the harper hoists the gitar onto her back with another strap, and begins to walk. "If Ilicaeth could fly ahead. If he sees a body. Or..." the daughter of once Weyrleaders glances back at Alida, "I have an image of a man's face and build in my head. I know he's never met me and I not him, but if he'd like... the image is available for him." Even if other parts of the harper's head are blanked out. "If not...," and here, that grimness turns rueful, "We're looking for a portly man, about yea high," taller than her by a foot, "Greyish brown hair. And a runner he borrowed from the Hold." "In general..." Alida murmurs her assent to Suireh, even as Ilicaeth turns one of his big, blue eyes upon the pair of women as he lowers his head to bring them closer into his sights. This could be quite unnerving to enough non-riders, but, given Suireh's background, she might be used to such. The look of controlled realization dawning within the blonde's eyes at the Journeyman's revelatory words has the guard nodding once in deliberate fashion as she listens, and the dragon chuffing softly. "Ilicaeth'll take the image directly from ya. He's direct, gritty, but 'e won't intrude any farther than what's needed. Just say when." At this point, the blue's chin is nearly touching the ground, his sky-toned gaze picking up speed and appearing to focus solely upon the Harper women, though his rider reaches out to touch one palm to his muzzle. The exchange of the image must be seamless. Suireh doesn't react, further than a voluntary close of her eyes and a momentary furrow of concentratin on her brow. Then, a clipped, "I hope that worked," despite her bravado of sounding like this is old hat. "Care to take a walk with me, bluerider?" There's a lightness to her tone, harper-trained no doubt, that aims to make this a conversational journey as a guise for any true intentions. "I've never really been to this area of Nabol before. It's not a place many people request for their journeying." As if journeymen's journeys are done by request, by desire, rather than assignment. "You Impressed recently, no?" To Alida: In the sky, should Ilicaeth fly high enough, the late morning sun casts a brilliant light on foliage turning ruddy. There are mountains and tree tops visible, and even lakes in the distance. It would truly make an idyllic sort of, laid back life, to live in these nether parts of Nabol. There is, however, nothing of particular interest in the near vicinity. Nothing that even harkens of that image Suireh shared: a boy playing in a stream with a girl peeking her head out from the side of a tree trunk. A farmhand plowing his field, getting it ready for the cool winter ahead. Another dragon soaring towards whereever, the knot on his rider's shoulder the brown and black of Fort. Nothing, truly, out of the ordinary. The blue's grappling for Suireh's image is like a chunk of granite hitting her in the face...but without pain; merely the impact of a mind getting to the nitty-gritty in an instinctual moment. Only a hint of parched heat and sand are left in his wake as he takes that image, makes it crisp, delivers it to Alida as well, his rider then nodding silently, and stepping away from her lifemate as he lifts his head, pads away from the humans. "Got it..." she announces crisply to the Journeywoman, then bobbing her helmeted head to the inquiry. "You say that like it's a bad thing..." Alida ripostes to Suireh's words of Nabol in lightly sarcastic, humored tones, the rider then nodding, shrugging. "Hraedhyth's first clutch." After a few moments, "I heard yer the younger twin daughter uv' 'Reaches' former Weyrleaders." Beat. "Bet'cher sick uv' hearin' that." Smirk. Beyond them, Ilicaeth is awing with a powerful, single hurl of his stocky frame into the air, and soon enough, the blue's utilizing air currents to glide all around...not randomly, but in orderly patterns than cross-reference his 'partner's' motions. Grid search! A companionable warble to the Fortian dragon is all he'll allow in distraction from his task. To Alida's response, Suireh merely glances around her surroundings, and not having the view Ilicaeth has, only sees the toil of Nabolese laborers. "I can't imagine being posted here for a turn or two. It would-," there's another of those wry looks that fails at cool aloofness and merely... looks resigned, "Maybe I'd stop getting that comment if I moved here instead." At least there's humor in the harper's voice. The harper's footsteps carry them into the forests, protected for so many turns from Thread and the light slowly wanes as she traipses further in to the shadows, glimmering in pockets of shadow leaf-decorated patterns. "What did you do before Impressing? What... Why did you agree to Stand?" She's very curious, a look that seemingly goes to Alida, instead scanning the path (or lack thereof) they walk along. There's nothing. To Alida: As the pair disappears into the forest, the sky view affords some rustles when the bluerider and harper pass through one of those visible pockets. In the distance, a waterfall sounds and the stream that leads towards it is visible in flickering passes here and there, getting closer and louder. Alida is mostly concentrating on ground signs around her, greens keen for anything out of the ordinary, though her ears are perked for what her companion has to say. "...A number uv' things," Alida addends to Suireh's words, the clonde then smirking darkly at the Harper. "Nah. Y'd just wind up another dead Harper." How's that for gritty reality? As they move into the area's lush forest, the rider inquires, "Got any reason ta' believe this particular area might be the likely sight?" Beat. "'Cause if this recovery effort's random, I'm gonna apply some order ta it." To answer the Journeyman comes her clipped, "Why're ya interested? I mean, I *know* yer a Harper, but..." Above them, Ilicaeth shares what he sees, hears with his lifemate, as Alida does with him, the pair comparing, examining, exchanging mental notes, making certain to garner the most from their search as possible. Touche. It's not said, but it's implied in the drop of Suireh's chin and her silence as she looks to the ground, pale gray eyes fixated on some speck in the distance. Some glimmer of silver that turns out to be just light reflecting off a dewdrop. "All my life," the harper confesses in a confession that's all too known to those of the Weyr; there's no secret to it, "I've wanted to be a dragonrider. I sometimes wonder what drives others to seek out the lifestyle and why-," a look goes up to try and find Ilicaeth, "Dragons choose whom they do." The gitar makes a faint musical sound as a strong breeze passes through the strings. To Alida: The water of the stream turns out to be less stream and more rapids, rolling waves across dangerous rocks and the sound of the waterfall is louder than a simple trickle. There's a froth of water and mist about the bottom where rainbows reflect and firelizards zip around, playing. A spray of water hits a particularly large boulder and sets off a spray of iridescent drops into the air. For some moments, there's just silence between the two of them as Alida lets her concentration be taken up by the sounds, sights above and below, the pounding of that waterfall drawing her along with it, her steps wisely chosen so as not to obliterate any potential clues as she leads them down towards the falls' base...searching all the way. Again, to answer the Harper, "I ain't got a clue, either. Guess I said yes ta Search outta some silly childhood thing. What kid doesn't wanna be a dragonrider." True. She'll never admit to wanting to get the shell away from the hell of her former life at Pars, though. "Figured I'd be goin' back home; instead..." A glance skyward finds the often dour woman actually smiling a little for a moment. The sound of those strings gets her attention, however, makes the 'rider inquire, "How good're ya' with that?" Cue a jerk of her chin to the guitar. One of those firelizards that zip around is a sunset-sunflower-tinged gold nearly a Turn old. "Good enough," is Suireh's initial curt response. But it's only a skipped beat later that she adds, "Better than most. Enough so they'd take me back after I left the Hall to...," there's a flush to her cheeks, not hidden enough by the shadows of the forest, "Become a dragonrider." But she'll own up to her silliness, looking to Alida, the actual dragonrider, with a pressed-lip look. "I'm a better singer though, but we're all taught to play instruments as well. Even those who aren't musically inclined." There's silence for a little while, the crunch of leaves under her boots the only 'noise' made. To Alida: There. There! Is that something? Wait, no. Is it? It flickers in and out of view, a sliver of some blue cloth resting against one of the outlying rocks, about half way to the waterfall. She's used to hearing the bluster of others - shells, of herself - and Suireh's first response is par for the course in Alida's ears. It's the rest of the Harper's words that draw more of her attention back from searching for clues, the 'rider actually pausing at the other's admission, peering directly at her with those merciless green eyes. After listening more pointedly to the other female, the bluie's alto notes a bit roughly, "It's an Interval. Guess I got lucky... got ta be both." As for singing, playing...the blonde notes more casually as she shifts back into searching mode, "My ma' was a scribe...just passable with the guitar. No voice. She enjoyed the music aspect, though." A faint hint of a smile touches the 'Reachian's lips for a momentary memory, fades quickly as something barely catches the periphery of her sights. After closing with the likely area, toeing aside foliage, with careful bootpresses, then gloved fingers, the keen-eyed woman squats down, looks for other nuances, such as boot marks, blood, debris...*anything* telltale. "Your ma," and there's no mocking there, whatsoever, as Suireh picks up on Alida's phrasing for this, "Enjoyed singing, even without a voice, didn't she?" The harper presumes, looking to the bluerider, and then pausing her steps. The wind picks up again from the stream, bringing with it the scent of something rotting. But as it disappears, so too does the smell, leaving only in its wake the strum of gitar strings once more. "She sung just a little...mostly ta me, I think," Alida comments as she inspects along the base of the falls, the guard leaving some stones in an arrow formation to mark where the blue fabric was before she palms it into one of her pants pockets...moves slowly along. That carrion scent - so quickly come and gone - has her suddenly looking up to the obscured sky for a moment, then out to the frolicking flits...the 'rider whistling a distinct triad of clear notes. Near-immediately, that gold firelizard zips over to the bluerider, lands upon one shoulder, and cheeps inquiringly of her human. Pyrite receives instructions from Alida - reinforced by Ilicaeth - to sniff for that rotting flesh scent, and lead the humans to it. To Suireh is noted, "We oughtta' play tagether sometime, if ya like." Already the 'Reachian is slowly standing, taking her flit from shoulder to hand, looking into the gold's whirling eyes, and then tossing her into the air...hoping she'll lead them to something. Suireh watches, the slate of her eyes dark for the shadows, fascinated, and, if the twitch of her face is read correctly (and it's pretty obvious), a little repulsed by the whiff she's gotten. She's no healer. "My mother," she shares, "Sang to me... Us. Before she-," the bluerider's standing again, and the tossed firelizard darts away closer to the shoreline. "The cloth," the slender girl begins, as it disappears into Alida's pocket. There's a swallow and then a look away to where the 'lizard went off to. "It was once harper blue." She begins to quicken her pace, but careful, always careful, to keep a step behind Alida, as the gold firelizard moves. The smell of rotting flesh becomes all the stronger, intermingling with the smell of wet mildew. A streak of blood, completely dried smears the trunk of one tree, only distinct because of the way the bark's been scraped off, as if a large body hit it with some force before trying to push itself off in another direction. Unfortunately, the weeks since have caused the dirt floor of the forest and the muddied area near the water way to have long hidden other clues. Noting Suireh's reactions, Alida murmurs, "This might not be pretty..." *If* there's anything left to find, anymore. A look over to the Journeyman at her sharing inspires the Guard to offer a knowing nod before she's in motion again, the other's mention of that cloth inspiring a low, "Harper eyes..." Suireh's pace might quicken with Pyrite's flight, but Alida's doesn't. The bluie doesn't want to miss any potential clues along the way that the firelizard leads them. She's smelled death before in enough forms, but old forms of it are rare even for her, and the scent of rot causes even Alida's nose to wrinkle up as they close with yet more evidence. "Yer seein' all this clearly, right?" is noted over her shoulder to Suireh, a gloved finger pointing at that dried, bloody streak, scraped off bark...the 'rider crouching down to use stones to point to such with another arrow. She tries not to disturb too much of the scene while investigating it further, though her gaze always rises often enough to keep track of Pyrite...who is also kept track of by Ilicaeth. The difficulty it takes to keep her harper eyes peeled and attentive is getting harder as the smell worsens. This time, there's no breeze to bring and disperse it. It just lingers, heavy and damp and this overwhelming smell takes its toll on Suireh as she pauses to put a hand by a tree and loses her lunch behind it. There might even be the start of some sobs. The tree with the bloody streak is only the first of a series of signs left behind, that has managed, somehow, to stay. It's possibly helped that Nabol's had a dryer summer than usual. Another torn piece of cloth, this time likely once white, is half-buried beneath the muddy banks. Then, further down, a sliver of leather, possibly from a saddle, lingers in fibers against another tree. Pyrite has quite the path to take, winding and looping and pausing to get distracted, and then stops, hovering in a holding pattern at the edge of the lake a few feet from where the waterfall descends. Each of those sites of discovery is marked by arrows, each of them getting a pair, three, four, five grouping of stones underneath to indicate the order in which they were found by Alida. The guard collects each bit of evidence, secures it upon a seperate part of her person. Suireh's left to her hurling, sobbing, Alida not allowing herself to be distracted from their terrible and important task. She can't afford to let the sounds of puking draw her into doing the same right now, either. It helps that Ilicaeth applies a certain coolness, distance to his lifemate's mind right now, the blue rather used to such, given Alida's mental excesses at points in time. "Stay there, fer now..." the blonde notes to the Harper - not unkindly, for once - the 'rider then following to where her flit finally hovers. If the indicated position is out in the water, the woman has her flit land upon it, submerge, and show both her and Ilicaeth what she can see at that position. The blue dragon can accurately 'translate' whatever Pyrite might not be able to show her owner because of the bending of light caused by the water. Firelizard chittering turns into something more tangible in the mind of a dragon, and is further punctuated by Pyrite swooping down onto the bed, swishing her tail, and then into the shallows of the water and coming up again, as if fleeing something and hiding in the trees. Where she's stomped, with her tiny frame, uncovers the small tip of something hard. Cartilage like. Distinctly. Perhaps. Hoof-like. Suireh? She's still vomiting up whatever food is left in her at this point. Moving off to where her pet is currently stomping, Alida scoops up Pyrite into the crook of one arm and cozens her for some long moments, letting Ilicaeth help her reassure and quiet the little gold. Death can wait; life is precious. And Alida would never intentionally harm an animal, much less one of her own pack. No one - even the hurling Suireh - around to see such - the often harsh guard strokes fingers and even lips across her firelizard's hide, coos softly to her, and finally winds up feeding her a few pieces of herdbeast jerky before the flit crawls beneath the woman's heavy braid to partially hide herself and recover...her eyes moving back towards blue from their former white and yellow, purple under human and dragon reassurance. Already, Ilicaeth's backwinging into the area, the trees and water stirred up by his efforts, the blue landing carefully, his front half in the water, rear on land...summoned by his rider. His own gaze is the lavender of stress as he slowly submerges his head, neck, then his chest and forelimbs, towards that area that Pyrite ran away from. To his flank, Alida is slowly beginning to make an arrow marker that points towards the discovery of what look like a runner's hoof...and bones. Whatever Ilicaeth's great eyes see...well, Alida will also see. Under that water, there's life of all forms, and death, the definite presence of something that was once great and alive, now no longer there. The runner, much like the dragon, is half sunk under the mud on land and have in the water, the rushing rapids having done their work on this bloating body. But it's not just that Ilicaeth might see. A flash of silver, the tip of a knife buried down in the sandy bottom, kept from spilling over into the frothing base of the waterfall by the two stones it's lodged between. And a gold mine trail of other goods that lead further into the center of the wide ford. She's paused against a nearby tree, once that big, stone arrow with the pebbled number of discovery beneath it is made, Alida absently stroking Pyrite's tail while awaiting the discovery she's almost dead certain Ilicaeth will make. And when her blue shows her just what's up beneath the waters with that leftover runner carcass and the trail of baubles... « Follow the trail, 'caeth. Try not ta disturb anything. » The blue knows exactly what... who they're looking for as the end goal. Both guard and dragon look grim. Purged of food and looking decidedly weak, Suireh ventures closer. "I'm sorry," is her only words, an apology made all the more sincere for just how wretched she looks. "I-," and then her pale eyes catch sight of the submerged foot and she's turning to hide her face in the tree trunk closest to her. It's a moment that passes quickly, more than the first, and looking ashen, she looks back to where Ilicaeth submerges. There's no questions. "He's really dead." It's a testament that soon finds credence with hard proof, if the bloated body the blue dragon will eventually come across could even be identified. Lunmein, if that's who it is, has a boulder tied about his waist to keep him down, though the ropes that used to keep him close to it have somehow loosened, perhaps tugged by the rapids, and the harper is suspended, somewhere between the bottom of the river and the surface. A ghastly sight, indeed. "Don't be. Most people never smell that in their life..." Alida notes quietly to the approaching Suireh, her gaze only flicking over to note where the Harper is, then turning back to the water's surface...allowing the Harper some dignity. "Do *not* look..." the guard notes in crisp, ordering fashion - a cop at a crime scene - the blonde soon answering a flat "Yes..." to the other woman's assertion after Ilicaeth shows her the last resting place and state of Lunmein's body. Even with her blue's help, Alida still feels...queasy. Still, she swallows that sensation back, and notes to her companion, "I'm gonna send a note ta' yer Master... the MasterHarper. Someone else's gotta know *now*, just in case." Out from a pocket is fished a small scrap of hide, a stub of a pen soon following, handed over to Suireh. "Tell 'im." A clear point at the hide is given. "We'll stay 'ere until ya get instructions. Ilicaeth'll stay over the body." Suireh obliges all too readily by not looking. She might have even stopped breathing as well and when hide and pen are shoved towards her, reaches for it automatically. Her body pivots and while facing a tree, rather than Alida, the blue dragon, or anything that's happening behind her, poises her pen to take down what the bluerider might say, scribbling things in a neat fashion and then venturing a look backwards at the Reachian rider. "Firelizard?" is the only word she manages while holding the hide out to Alida. Alida's recitation of Ilicaeth's images are terse: well-suited ti a scrap of small hide meant to be rolled up into a tiny tube attached to a firelizard leg. Suireh's inquiry earns her a nod...but Pyrite prove not to be too helpful to the bluerider's plan when she refuses to emerge from under the small spill of locks that have emerged from the back of the 'rider's helmet. No amount of cajoaling, firmness, or ordering by the blonde can convince the little gold to give up her place of relative safety, and in fact, all the urging only sends her scurrying more deeply for cover, the flit crawling with desperate creels of yellow-eyed protest into the shadowy depths of Alida's jacket. "Fuckit!" is growled out darkly, the guard then sighing loudly, and leaving her pet be. "Ilicaeth says she's too traumatized yet...still not calmed down enough." Is that a smidgen of guilt in the bluie's alto? One boot toe taps in irritation at the foliage below it, and after a few seconds, greens move from the water back to the Harper. "D'you have any 'rider friends 'r family that ya trust implicitly?" A long moment passes, a very quiet sort of silence. "My sister." Not Leova. Not her father. "My sister. He can call for Riahla's blue at Monaco. Zeth. I trust her with everything." Suireh makes the mistake of looking back, and even though she's unable to see anything, she still makes a choked squeak. Purely for Suireh's benefit: "Riahla's blue Zeth, Monaco," is clipped off aloud, Alida then intoning like a drill instructor, "Eyes forward, Harper," to the other female in a way that just might remind her of the way a teaching Master might use on an Apprentice. In her head, meanwhile, the request to contact said Monocoan blue is given to Ilicaeth, who reaches out concentrated eddies of sand and the fine-particulate invasive, firm baritone call of « Zeth. I need to speak with Zeth. » over and over again until he gets a response. The Monaco blue's mind is rife with the most random thoughts, much of it existing in this bubble of self-centeredness that seems impenetrable at first. Then finally an irritated, « What? Don't you know I was in the middle of thinking? » Suireh turns again, tipping her head forward into the trunk of the tree and tries to steady her breath, all without actually smelling anything. The 'rider bobs her head when Suireh refocuses, centers, calms herself once again, Alida then pulling out each bit of evidence from her various pockets, and directing the Harper to, "I need ya ta' write down each bit uv evidence, 'n later, where it was found. Can ya do that?" Meanwhile, self-centered Zeth gets another rude awakening with the second direct, no-nonsense blasting scrape of Ilicaeth's desert mind against his. « Think another time. Yer rider's sister needs yers right now. We're in no danger...yet. » Let him dwell on *that* for a moment: danger. « Tell nobody else. Come here immediately. » The 'Reachian blue's coordiantes are very crisp, detailed: the nearest opening into the forest where the trio entered it. « I'll show ya the rest uv' the way in, an' you c'n direct yer rider. » « Really. If I could have a mark piece for every time some random dragon comes in here and starts telling me to think another time. I swear, I could be as rich as a Lord Holder by now. And I mean that seriously. I calculated the-, » Zeth's ramble comes to an abrupt stop 30 seconds after the word 'danger' is spoken and the mental whoa, wait, back up manifests in a quick back peddling to what was said first. « Her? » Not his most favorite person, but... probably his rider's most favorite person so his distaste is a bit muddied. Big. Dramatic. Sigh. « We're on our way. » And then the rambling doesn't stop in Ilicaeth's head about this or that or why Suireh always ruins his thinking. Meanwhile, the harper does as told, backtracking slowly to each of the rock monuments Alida's made before making her way back, just in time to see Zeth land and a concerned Riahla fly off. Until she sees that dead runner's hoof poking out of the ground, "Hoooooooooooo-ly shit. Holy shit balls. What have you gotten yourself into now?" Excellent distraction and double insurance for everyone. Once Suireh's done labeling the evidence, Alida collects the pieces of it back from her, muttering "Don't put all uv' yer eggs in one basket..." then watching the Harper move to those various points of arrow markings while she also keeps track of Ilicaeth's pointed recitations of not only the whereabouts of the Monocoan blue pair, but also of Zeth's mental peculiarities. « Lucky us... » Ilicaeth even notes with understated dryness to the other blue at Zeth's 'on our way' comment, Alida soon enough noting the loud entrance of Riahla into their 'territory' with a ready stance and a significant hovering of her palm just barely above one of her belt knives. Without moving green eyes from the new person, the Reachian notes in aside to Suireh, "Is that her?" "Ri!" It's a sob. A desperate sob that's not excited at all despite exclamation points. But Suireh maintains some semblance of being mature, or something, or maybe she's paralyzed to the perimeter just out of smell shot of that decaying runner body. « Fascinating! » is all Zeth is capable of saying as his whirling eyes and quick-paced brain starts looking and looking and looking and digesting and calculating and doing things like thinking and coming up with another, « This might be even better than that time-- » and more random rambling of the crazy (possibly sociopathic) intellectual variety. "Harper." Again, it's that drill instructor tone from Alida, designed to make Suireh snap into focus on the *now* and concentrate on things other than fear and upset. At least her greeting to the third female reasonably assures the guard of the legitimacy of her identity. The most focused one in the group, perhaps, the 'Reachian waits for just a few moments before noting to the new arrival, "Alida, blue Ilicaeth's, 'Reaches." Beat. "We need yer assistance in gettin' the Harper back ta' 'er Hall immediately, and in one piece, with essential information." As for Ilicaeth's listening to of Zeth, well, the blue is rather social, and though he sort-of glosses over the more boring parts, the Monocoan's more sociopathic leanings are heeded with all the morbidly curious fascination of a cop. Zeth blahblahblahbazingablahblah. Riahla is somehow tuning all this out and listening to Alida, though there are question marks bright in the blue eyes that regard Suireh. "Sure thing. She'll be safe with me. And you-," perhaps Zeth has discerned far more than he's actually expressed to the general public, from the firelizard, from just observing, from picking Suireh's brain when she doesn't want him to, for Riahla looks to the lake and then the runner, her face turning faintly sad, "You'll stay here until we send a group of healers and riders to help." It's what she's surmised and even as she moves to cradle her sister with an arm around her shoulder, she's looking to Alida for confirmation. « Not quite as daft-crazy as 'e'd like people ta' believe, then... » Ilicaeth notes to Alida of Zeth when Riahla manages to piece enough together from not only the guard, but her own blue (and circumstances, of course) to come to that conclusion. A bob of her helmeted, pale head affirms the Monocoan's words, 'lida adding to them soon enough with, "We might need a Master-level Harper here as an official Craft witness, uv' course, if they feel the need. Mebee pick up a Guard 'r two along the way back, if they decide such...just in case." So that this unfortunate circumstance doesn't happen again. One never knows...or so says the non-trusting 'Reachina's eyes. Out in the lake, floating above where the former Nabolese Harper's remains lie, Ilicaeth rumbles a low reassurance to the group out beyond him. "Right." Riahla's response is clipped as her hand finds Suireh trembling, in spite of the harper's best efforts. "I'll have Zeth bespeak your blue as soon as I can. I promise," the blonde woman adds with a most rueful look slanted to her dragon and then to Alida, "In a straightforward fashion." Most of Pern can probably hear the: « I am always straightforward. » The bluerider packs her sister and all the hide pieces she carries, up on the blue and vaults up soon after. "Clear skies and our duties to Reaches, bluerider." A wave and then up in to the air, disappearing in to between just seconds later. There's a thin smirk from Alida whether she hears Zeth's comment directly or not, the woman then nodding firmly to Riahla's promise of swift response. "Please have 'em announce Suireh's an' yer own names as they enter, so I know we ain't been possibly found out by any baddies." Watching the pair walk off back out to the other blue, the guard calls out a crisp, "'Reaches back ta Monaco, bluerider." It's a short while later, not too long, but long enough to cause the first niggling moments of doubt that Zeth's subdued voice projects: « A master and some of his apprentices are on their way. The Masterharper trusts them explicitly. Suireh is fine, recovering at the Hall. » And not too long after, two brown dragons appear with healers on their backs. They respond as Ilicaeth requested with: « Suireh, Riahla, and Zeth, » in unison before spiraling down to assess the situation. There is also a harper master that Zeth had not mentioned, whether he was aware or this was a last minute addition. While they speak politely to Alida, it's clear they're more interested in doing their own investigating and the harper looks to the bluerider finally and says, "Please report this only to your Weyrleaders for now as quickly as you can. We'll be transporting both bodies to Healer Hall after Master Jueve takes more notes down, from a medical standpoint. But we consider this a Harper matter more than Reaches even if," he pauses, and looks tired, "It may concern Nabol's succession. You have our gratitude in your assistance in this matter, bluerider." If she stays, she'll watch a master of healer investigation at work, with a harper, who is far less prone towards vomiting than Suireh, following in his footsteps taking down the spoken words. Two apprentices follow afterwards, following directions explicitly, cleaning and starting the gentle extraction process of the runner. The healer master even sheds her clothing and wades out into the waters with a flotation device about her waist and a rope tied to the shore, keeping her from spilling over the waterfall. It's a long, slow process that takes note of everything.
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