Logs:Treasure Trove
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| RL Date: 12 November, 2013 |
| Who: G'laer, Teisyth, Rh'mis, Rosvelth |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: Teisyth and Rosvelth are friends. G'laer and Rh'mis are not. |
| Where: East Bowl, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
| Weather: High winds whip through the bowl and whistle up the walls around the spires. |
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| Eastern Bowl, High Reaches Weyr Ringed by rough granite walls to all sides but one, this end of the huge bowl narrows from the even broader plain to the west, continuing the ever so slight downward slope toward the blue and green of the Weyr's lake and surrounding foliage. More open to sun and wind than the western bowl, but less frequented when there aren't weyrlings in residence, the bowl's grassy tufts keep the topsoil in place and thicken into a bloodstained meadow within the feeding pens that adjoin the lake. At the base of the surrounding cliffs lie entrances to several caverns, including the dragon infirmary and the weyrling barracks: the former to the northwest near where the spires begin, the latter opposite to the southwest. Both archways are large and dark enough for any dragon to pass through, but it's the infirmary's that is haunted by faint smells of redwort and numbweed, as though over generations they have seeped into the very stone. To the southeast, between the weyrling area and the lake, there are a handful of structures built into the floor of the bowl, standing out amidst otherwise an empty space. High winds whip through the bowl and whistle up the walls around the spires.
Since classes started in earnest, it's been more difficult for Rhey to avoid everyone and everything-- not that Rosvelth is inclined to let him do that, anyway, oh no. The brown lets the wind rustle through his raised sails (raised, but not reaching for the sky), as if the sensation of it is quite enough to live off; his return from the lake (which is frozen, and thus suitable for sliding when you're a little itty bitty dragon) is a triumphant one. Rhey, at his heels, is watching the ground, and seems to be trying to direct the brown towards the barracks through a series of nudges and arm points: go here. Go here. Here. The lake! Now why didn't Teisyth think of that? When she rises up on her back paws, the healing scrapes of her attempt at belly-flopping on the bits of ice in the bowl a few days back are visible. That wasn't a good morning. This afternoon is not a morning, but it is good. The brown is greeted with a honky-bugle. « Goooooooooood day, Rosvelth! » Day ends up a little squeaked soprano, the excitement just too much to be contained by her usual alto drawl. « Didja come to play with me? » G'laer shifts subtly, angling his body so he's more readily able to take in Rh'mis' approach of the area along with his brown while still keeping his troublesome Teisyth in his periphery. Someone to talk to slash play with is much more interesting than a couch in the barracks (however warm and cozy) and so Rosvelth diverts his path (blatantly ignoring the corralling his rider attempts) to join the green. « Teisyth! I have conquered the lake. It fought back, but I have prevailed. It's my lake now; I've decided. » "No--" begins Rhey, coming to a standstill as his dragon scampers off. "No. Come back. We're going inside." He's aware - must be aware - of G'laer, but he's not looking in that direction, not even a little. « Wow! » Teisyth is impressed and the sincere sense of awe shines through with her word. « You own a whole lake? That's amazing! Can I-- » She's so excited, in fact, that it's hard for her to decide what she wants to ask first. « Can I see it? What are you going to call it now? » The green has been thoroughly distracted from her play with the wind and is zooming on over to meet up with her clutch brother. With the zoom, G'laer moves. He doesn't have to, of course. It's not even probably because of Teisyth that he does, but it might look that way. He stops at a respectable distance for conversation. "Rh'mis." Blue eyes lay heavily upon the younger man's face, as he extends the one-word greeting, lips a line of neutrality. "Rhey," corrects the bearer of that name, which is an improvement, really: often, he's simply not registered 'Rh'mis' as referring to him at all. "Hello, G'laer." His shoulders have stiffened, hunched forward further, and it's clearly not because of the cold (though he must, surely, be cold: he's not even wearing a proper coat). Rosvelth's mind gleams, salt-water over glittering treasures. « I shall call it 'Rosvelth's lake', » he declares. « You can look. Just don't touch! You might break it, and then I would have a broken lake. » And it would be a tragedy. "Rhey." G'laer accepts the correction. "One might have thought a new name would be an opportunity for you to distance yourself from unwanted connections." What with Rhey being a wanted thief, and Rh'mis being a weyrling brownrider and all. The man continues to look at him, unflinchingly. G'laer must have noticed the lack of proper winter attire, but this isn't the current focus of his attention. « ... » comes the pause as Teisyth considers. Then with a honk-bugle of elation, « That's a great name! Easy t'remember! » She bounces past Rosvelth and then stops, « Wait, no touchin'? None at all? But I promise I won't break it, » the pretty pretty pretty pretty pretty please is implied. Wryly; "The two are pretty well linked at this point, don't you think? Besides, it's moot, now. You can't turn a dragonrider over, not even to a man who claims a Hold." There's something arch in Rhey's tone: a challenge. Rosvelth turns, rather slower than Teisyth with all that bulk of his, however youthful, but no less enthusiastic. « Rhey says it could break; he says it is fragile. He also says it's not really mine, but he's wrong, and I think he just sees things funny because... it's mine. I'm not giving it back. But you can look. » Just don't breath on it, Teisyth. "Can't you?" G'laer's voices changes inflection to rise in question. Is Rhey so sure about that? Maybe he meant 'shouldn't.' He's answering the challenge, just not as directly as one might expect. « Weeell... » Teisyth considers, « If Rhey's wrong around it not bein' yours, maybe he's wrong about it bein' fragile too. I bet I could touch it and not break it. » Pretty please? "No," says Rhey, quite calm, quite sure. If it's bait, he's not rising to it. He's even-- almost-- smiling, in a satisfied kind of way. "You can't. Dragons belong in the Weyr." Now, for the first time, he looks at G'laer more directly. « Rh'mis, » corrects Rosvelth. Only he gets to refer to his rider as Rhey, thank you very much. « What if you do break it? If you touch it, and it breaks, then it'll be broken, and it won't really be treasure anymore, right? » And Rosvelth would be sad. « You could watch me touch it, though. » He's feeling generous. Hold that thought, Rosvelth! Teisyth wants to respond. She's got loads more to say about his lake and treasures and what a treasure becomes when it's broken, and... where was she? Oh, yeah! There's a thought in G'laer's head that she. does. not. like. She's swinging back toward her lifemate, wings flaring and a ferocious sort of hiss slipping out of her throat. Happy go lucky? Not right now. And suddenly G'laer looks less amused. "I didn't mean anything by it." It's not to Rh'mis, but to Teisyth. There's a staring contest for a prolonged moment. "Fine." Gritted through teeth. To the brown weyrling, "I promise not to do something you can't apparently do anyway." At least according to Rhey. "Happy?" To Teisyth. It's easy to overhear her answer, « It'd be nicer if you'd said, 'let's be friends'. » But the look G'laer gives her is clearly some colorful variation of 'no.' To Rosvelth, Rh'mis projects, « Find out what that was all about, huh? » To Rh'mis, Rosvelth projects, « Why? » To Rosvelth, Rh'mis projects, « Because... because it could be important, okay? Because we can't trust him. » To Rh'mis, Rosvelth projects, « We. » Pleased. « I'll try. » Rosvelth is plainly fascinated by this so-abrupt change in his playmate: he leans in, nudging the bulk of his body against her (she's kind of awesome when she's ferocious; warrior green!). His rider is no less interested, his eyebrows raising above his hairline as he watches the exchange. "Glad to hear it," he says, finally, sounding amused. "I wouldn't want you to go to any trouble on my behalf." « What did he want to do? It can't have been something fun or interesting. » Rosvelth's interest holds something that isn't quite his to it; they're his words, and yet... « Oh, him? » Like G'laer's harmless as an overly exuberant puppy with a bone. Teisyth leans her boxy weight back against the larger dragon as her fierceness so suddenly vanishes into the usual demeanor. « He just don't like it when he cain't finish his hunts. He likes rules, but he likes breakin' rules too, if it gets what he needs in the end. But there are some thinks that nobody should think not for any reason whatever. And-- » Teisyth might have gone on... and on... and on... Only, G'laer's glaring at her, and she's just now realized. « Oops. Hey, Rosvelth, can you maybe forget what I've been sayin'? I forgot it was a secret. He has too many of them for me to remember them all. » "What's hard about everything?" The words burst from the man's mouth, annoyance plain in his baritone, and a dragon toe scuffs the dirt. G'laer's eyes go back to Rh'mis, temper fighting to overcome his control. But at least so far, Rhey isn't being made the scapegoat for Teisyth's mistakes. « A secret. » A secret is basically as good as treasure-- it might even be the same thing!-- and so of course that's got Rosvelth's interest. But discretion is important, too, and so he promises, faithfully: « I won't tell. » Except Rhey, but that's totally different, right? The abrupt hardness in Rhey's express, even if it disappears abruptly a moment later, probably suggests something along those lines. "Having troubles?" he wonders, oh-so-casually. He's smiling again. « Rhey has secrets, too, but he says they're like treasures because they're worth something, and he intends to collect. Maybe it's the same kind of thing. Anyway, » Rosvelth gives Teisyth another nudge, the kind that's really more of a shove and could, if she were less bulky herself, send a dragon flying. « They're funny over stuff, sometimes. » There's silence from G'laer for a moment and he takes enough steps closer to Rh'mis so that the words following his long sigh are for the other's ears alone. "Saying I have troubles is like saying Hraedhyth's a firelizard." So many implications as to how that could go wrong. "I assume I'm not the only one with adjustment issues." He articulates the last two words carefully, and raises his brows at Rhey. "It's not like you came to the hatching asking for this." A gesture to Rosvelth that also encompasses Teisyth. He didn't ask for her either. His voice is quiet, controlled, maybe dangerous? Maybe just intense. « Hot dang! I got treasure? » Because G'laer has a lot of secrets, and this idea is exciting. « Woohoo! I'm rich! » She goes with the shove only so she can dance around in a circle, wings flapping at the air, though not trying to lift off or anything, only a sudden stop has her staring at Rosvelt, « But wait. What do I do with it? I ain't never been rich before. » And now she's worried. Will that change her? Will her friends become enemies and enemies friends? And--?! (To Rosvelth from Teisyth) "And?" Something about Rhey's tone is defiant, albeit cautiously so; perhaps he doesn't like the idea of having something in common with the other weyrling. "I don't know that you of all people should be making any assumptions about me." He tucks his hands into his pockets, his stance abruptly more certain: no more slouching, no more skulking. "I'm not ashamed of him." Unlike G'laer, with Teisyth? It's not impossible that that is his implication. To Teisyth, Rosvelth's thoughts gleam: piles of treasure glowing gold and gilt, their shininess washed over with a wave of water and the hazy frostedness of glass. « You hoard it,» he explains. « You don't let anyone steal it. You pile it up and up and up and up and... and then you admire it. Sometimes you sleep in it. » It's hard to tell where he's been getting these ideas from; it can't all be Rhey, can it? « And then you give some to me, because I helped you find it in the first place. » "On the contrary, Rhey. Out of all the people here, I might know you the best." G'laer smiles. It's an unsettling thing. Probably because he almost never does it. The lonely dimple even makes an appearance. Then it wipes entirely. "Contrary to popular opinion, I am not ashamed of her, either. But it doesn't change that she's not what I asked for." Nope, not bronze. Is she even properly green? She's kind of boxy and rusty looking and... Not like the other greens, that's for sure. Or most of them. To Rosvelth, Teisyth's voice is too nasal, to muffled when she speaks next; maybe because her figurative face is smooshed up against the figurative glass that she's made through which to view Rosvelth's impressive mental horde. There's the sensation if not the sound of an awed gasp. « Are shnecrets comfy to shleep on? » The last, about giving him some because he helped her find it... well, that just seems logical! They're friends after all. Why wouldn't she share the wealth? Rh'mis doubts that very much, or so his expression suggests, but he tilts his chin up a little further and regards G'laer evenly. "I didn't think one asked for a dragon. And you, Weyrbred." He should have known better. To Teisyth, Rosvelth's certainly is impressive, albeit indistinct: he may be encouraging Teisyth to share, but he doesn't seem to be inclined to return the favour. « They're satisfying, » he says. « Like... like a comfortably full belly, or newly oiled hide. I always sleep very well. » "Of course, one asks for a dragon," G'laer's answer is certain; not being cowed or chastised by the teen. "One asks when one Stands for a dragon to choose him. If one's ambitious or forward-thinking, one asks for the dragon they want. Didn't they teach you how to dream in Nabol? Or only how to steal?" If it weren't for his so neutral tone, that might be meant to be provoking. Maybe it still is. To Rosvelth, Teisyth's face pulls away from the glass, only she seems to have left a face-print, which amuses her for a moment. Only, one can't see the treasure as well through an oily face-print. So, she does the only logical thing and starts to mentally lick it off. And if this somehow translates into a tongue looking to lick Rosvelth's physical body... well, that's probably an accident. She might not even be paying attention. Especially since she's saying, « I love me some good sleep. Sounds like you get a lot I'll try seein' if I can sleep on G'laer's secrets tonight. I don't expect he'll mind or nothin'. » Uh huh. There's no flinch at that mention of stealing: Rhey's stance remains unchanged. Instead, he says, "Seems like a waste of time, given the way the dragons decide for themselves who it is they want." Regardless of anyone else's desires... and yes, it's a sticking point, though he manages to keep his tone relatively neutral. "There's a large difference between dreaming for something and believing that dreaming equals asking." Being licked physically doesn't seem to bother Rosvelth much; certainly, he makes no remark on it. He is keeping an eye on Teisyth's mental actions, just in case that licking turns into, you know, secret-stealing, but that, surely, is not something a person can blame him for. « You should! I'm sure he won't mind. Rhey hardly notices, really, except when he does and reminds me that those things are valuable and not for sharing. Sometimes... » His sigh is heavy. « Sometimes I think he likes his secrets better than he likes me. » (To Teisyth from Rosvelth) "Dreaming is a waste of time." G'laer paraphrases, "Interesting." The word belies the tone. The older man doesn't really seem interested. "So life was really that shitty for you where you came from?" This is the inference he makes, and apparently has no shame in voicing it. "How else do you ask the world for something you want? How do you set your intentions?" Now he's probing, and not bothering to hide it, his eyes locked on Rhey's. This, too, doesn't seem to bother Rhey much; he's smiling again. "I certainly don't ask the world for anything; that's just stupid. Pretending the world is... the world doesn't give people things. It doesn't work like that." He's got scorn for that idea, head shaking. "The only thing worth focusing on is what I can do to get what I want." The licking continues until the mental face print is gone, the green showing no sign that she realizes she's actually licking the brown and not the imagined glass. Her tongue is still lolling out when he says the last, and it evokes an immediate and strong reaction from her. Emotion arrives forcefully: shock and disbelief. « What?! » A moment later, not even long enough for a breath to be taken, « No way! Uh-uh. Look, I cain't see inside his head or nothin', but he'd have to be stupider than a box of hair. » Whatever that means; it's clear enough that she's vehement that it can't possibly be the case. « And here's why else: 'cuz I like you plenty. An' I have great taste! » Cue affectionately reaching to butt her head against his shoulder. « Just look at G'laer! » Proof. (To Rosvelth from Teisyth) "So you don't believe in setting intentions. You probably don't believe in luck. You probably don't even believe that good people get good things and bad people get bad things." G'laer assesses, still watching the teen's face. "But you believe in focusing on what you can do to get what you want. So that's why you became a thief? Easiest way is to get what you want is to just take it, right?" Beat. "No wonder they're saying you stole Rosvelth. Maybe you did ask for him after all." Or at least want him enough to take him. Now this is baiting. Teisyth surely wouldn't approve, but she's busy. To Teisyth, Rosvelth is pleased, but even so: « Well, I know that. I'm not sure he's worked it out, yet, but he'll get there. » His thoughts gleam, now: treasures, all over again. « I appreciate your vote of confidence. A dragon's got to now who his friends are. » And Teisyth is his; it's confirmed. He'll butt his head back against hers, too, and lift one wing to affectionately try and cover her (something that might work better once they're both a little older and bigger, but shh). Clearly, Rhey wouldn't have gotten very far in life if he let a little baiting get to him, though he's not made of steel or stone. "No," he confirms. "I don't. I don't know if I believe in good people and bad people, either, for that matter." He could argue over the whole thief thing, but he doesn't: he just stares at G'laer, allegedly undaunted. "If anything," he adds, almost thoughtful. "He stole me. I was simply trying-- well. It doesn't matter. Come on." That last surely isn't to G'laer-- no, it can't be: he's looking at Rosvelth again. Affection! Friendship! Play! That's what he came her to do in the beginning; now they're finally getting to it, hooray! Just in time to, huh-what? « Do you really have to go? » Teisyth wants to know, suddenly intensely saddened by the idea. (To Rosvelth from Teisyth) "It probably does." Matter. G'laer contradicts, but he's not trying to stop the other weyrling. There will be so many other times for lovely little exchanges like this. And there's distraction for him too. A very sad green dragon wavering a little on her feet like she's about to go to pieces right there. "No," says Rhey. "It really doesn't." And if he has to manhandle his dragon back to the barracks, now? That's what he'll do. It doesn't matter that Rosvelth doesn't want to go in any more than Teisyth wants him to; this is one battle the rider is definitely going to win. « I'll show you my treasure later, » promises the brown, but oh, the lamentations! Woe, woe, woe. The woe is so overwhelming that G'laer and Teisyth aren't too far behind in coming inside, but fortunately for the departing party, the man manages to distract the green with food, so that really is the end of that. And only the dragons don't really like it. |
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