Logs:And Now for a Song and Dance
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 5 May, 2013 |
| Who: Cadejoth, D'kan, Ilicaeth, Kazavoth, Cailluneth |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: While other weyrlings are checking out their new cribs, D'kan and Kazavoth return to a largely empty barracks. Kazavoth decides to redecorate to the sound of music. |
| Where: Weyrling Barracks, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
| Mentions: Ahruth/Mentions, Alida/Mentions, Athimeroth/Mentions, Ilicaeth/Mentions, Quielle/Mentions, Quinlys/Mentions, Rasavyth/Mentions, Solith/Mentions, Telavi/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Lyrics written by D'kan-player, which is why they're stupid and just soooo serious. Of course. This was going to be a vignette, but thanks to the aforementioned dragons, it became a scene instead. Of various definitions. |
   |
| Dinner was a brief affair, with D'kan soon joining Kazavoth in the bowl. The two made their relatively slow, non-flying way back to the barracks. The brown was still a little bit worn out from all the weyr-hopping, and D'kan? Well... it seemed lot a lot of effort to just cross the bowl. Neither were all that talkative beyond a brief mental touch at the very beginning, and agreement to head back to their couch. After so many others had found their new homes that day, and while most others were at dinner or visiting some of those new homes, the barracks seemed oddly quiet. True, D'kan wasn't the only one without a weyr picked out, but he was the only one at that very moment heading to his couch with his dragon, with no intentions to move. The weyrling eases down to his cot and starts removing his boots, which are then tucked neatly underneath. Then.... he just stares off at nothing while Kazavoth settles into his familiar couch, the rushes rattling dryly as he lies down. "I suppose you really are getting too big for that," D'kan says, his voice dropping toward the end. The words don't quite echo, but it feels like they should. Movement in the training cavern has the weyrling looking over with interest, but it is just one of the others running in to grab a last bag before running out again. D'kan waves, then flops back, folding his pillow into a more solid prop for his head. Rummaging to the side, he draws out his small, leather-clad beanbag and tosses it up and to the side, letting it ricochet against the wall and back toward him. Ebbing and flowing like the incoming tide, Kazavoth slowly reaches out again, this time with more purpose. He brings to the forefront their little island with its sunny plateau and brushes across D'kan's mind with the cool caress of an afternoon breeze off the ocean. « There is no sense being troubled over this, D'kan. Please, stop thinking so much. First my wings are tired, and now you make my head tired, too. » His words ripple with humor that glints along the waves like so much sunlight, but there is a depth there that does not jest. D'kan tosses the beanbag against the wall again, but after catching it a second time, he lets the hand and beanbag fall to his chest before glancing over at Kazavoth. For a moment, he simply regards the brown, his expression unreadable. Not that the dragon needs to read his expression when the mind is open to him. « I'm being stupid. I know it. No need to rub it in. » Kazavoth snorts in reply as his tail came around to whack one leg of the cot, hard enough that the beanbag slips out of D'kan's hand to roll to the ground. « I am rubbing in nothing, » comes the reply, low and shadowed with a brief, leaden overcast. It quickly clears, however, and with it the dragon's tone. « You were not ready for things to change, but in remaining where you are, you are left behind. That is your doing. » Their private island fades momentarily while the dragon concentrates on something external, then the foliage and citrus scents return tenfold. « Also, this couch is too small. » A smile appears a moment before D'kan rolls to the side to retrieve the beanbag. He does not resume throwing it, instead starting to roll it from hand to hand. « Then we'll just have to fix that. I'll talk to Quinlys again, soon. Quite a few of those would have been just fine. I just... » The words would not come, but the thoughts were there, and Kazavoth picks them out easily. He just couldn't commit... wanted what they already had... feared what things would become. Heartened by the smile and wishing to avoid the hazier thoughts, Kazavoth resorts to that age-old solution taught us by the likes of G'ene and Kellyth, F'red and Astaireth. It is time for a song. « D'kan, » he assures in a happy near-purr, « I have just the thing. A happy thing. An enjoyable thing. A song, » ditty, « you taught me, » that Kazavoth stole. If not for the pause for puzzled regard, D'kan might have been in time. Alas. Too slow. In true Kazavoth fashion, the brown decides to include the nearby vicinity in his draconic merrymaking while he climbs out of his couch again, only to traipse through the one vacated by Athimeroth. In his heartiest "singing" voice, Kazavoth not so much reaches out to the dragons of the Weyr as much as he flings his voice against their conscience minds, his rhythm taking on a lilting sea chanty sort of cadence, complete with dialect. « o/~ Ohhhhhhh! Once I knew a Southern lass, with legs went right up to 'er ass. I coulda drown' in 'er eyes o' blue, but we had BETTER things ta do! o/~ » The singing stops, but only momentarily. His rider does not know what is best for him right now. (To all dragons from Kazavoth) At first, D'kan stares while Kazavoth wiggles his dark, draconic rump right over where his bronze brother so recently rested his head, only to dance on over to Ahruth's couch where he scatters rushes merrily. It certainly shakes Cadejoth out of any lethargy he might have been feeling. « That, » he declares, « Sounds like fun. » Riders are boring. This is much more interesting. (To all dragons from Cadejoth) She may not reach out to everyone, but Cailluneth is certainly there in response to her brother's singing; a cool silver moonlight touch, swirled with shimmering ocean blues, the warmth of encouragement. A rumbling purr echoes around her proudly-throbbing heartbeat, privately urging Kazavoth on. (To Kazavoth from Cailluneth) Oh no, he is not done there. He will not be silenced by his rider's stare! « o/~ I courted her beneath the sun. She promised dancin', harmless fun. When we stepped out beneath the moon, I knew the fun was comin' soon. o/~ » There is a slight uplift toward the very end. It is entirely possible the rider has upped the ante from stare to thrown projectiles. (To all dragons from Kazavoth) Thrown projectile, indeed. D'kan's aim was never a horrible thing, and he manages to bean that beanbag directly between Kazavoth's headknobs. Not that it does much good. Persevere! Riders know not what they see. Or think. Or do. (To all dragons from Cadejoth) It's gritty, it's dark...It's Ilicaeth being woken up by his brown clutchsibling...the parched desert lit by a pair of full moons riding high above. « Yer drunk. » Or his rider's drunk. (To High Reaches dragons from Ilicaeth) A momentary blip in the song only manages to increase the volume. This brown goes to eleven. « o/~ The sea was dark, the beach was light, her flowin' hair was such a sight, I gathered it in my two hands and kissed 'er there on Southern sands. o/~ » He begins to add some visuals stolen from his rider's mind, but it is soon replaced by a vision of D'kan chasing the brown through the barracks. Until Kazavoth remembers his song, letting the visuals fade. « o/~ First warnin' was her pow'rful frown, the second when she threw me down. Had nothin' left ta do but watch as 'er knee made contact with my crotch. o/~ » It is possible by now that some may have heard a certain weyrling shouting his dragon's name. It is also possible that any leftover rushes in those abandoned couches are now all over the barracks. (To all dragons from Kazavoth) Oh, there is chasing, all right. Right through Ilicaeth's couch and jumping over Alida's cot, D'kan tries to tackle his lifemate, though he is outnumbered, four legs to two. Rasavyth's couch is next as just about every last twig is scattered with the sweep of wings as Kazavoth glides over to land on... shells, that would be Quielle's cot. It is... going to need some repairs. "Kazavoth, for the love of Faranth, SHUT UP!" To all dragons, Cadejoth's amusement is vast. « No, not drunk. Glorious. Don't let him beat you down, Kazavoth! Enjoy yourself! » There's the distinct impression of a pillow being pulled over one's head, hoping to dull the noise of Kasavoth's borrowed singing. It doesn't work, of course. « You don' have ta' wake up at oh-five-thirty in the morning. » That last bit's for Ilicaeth's grandsire. (To High Reaches dragons from Ilicaeth) Not quite done with that itty bitty ditty, Kazavoth extends the song's denouement to all the Weyr, downright gleeful at this point, and it shows. « o/~ Was just one thing left ta do, ta ease my pains an' balls so blue. Well what'd I do? What do ya think! I drown'd my sorrows in song and-- » It is at this point the brown is silenced. Somehow. It is a mystery. (To all dragons from Kazavoth) Except to any in the barracks who may have walked in just now. Those lucky few might have seen D'kan make a flying leap at his lifemate's head, arms latched just behind the headknobs before both go skidding into what's left of Telavi and Solith's couch. Man. Disappointing. (To all dragons from Cadejoth) Thankful. Sleeping. (To High Reaches dragons from Ilicaeth) And so it begins. The cleanup, that is. Possibly set to music. After all, this is a musical... sort of. |
Comments
Nicky (Nicky (talk)) left a comment on Sun, 05 May 2013 16:01:42 GMT.
<
I love Kazavoth. I wish I could have taken part!
D'kan (D'kan (talk)) left a comment on Sun, 05 May 2013 18:24:36 GMT.
<
Add them in now! Kaz was certainly not subtle. I'd actually meant to leave a note to that effect in the OOC tag.
Azaylia (Dragonshy (talk)) left a comment on Mon, 06 May 2013 00:26:18 GMT.
<
That... was amazing. Can we 'favorite' logs? XD Kazavoth is hilarious and the image of D'kan chasing him around was just too much. <3
Leave A Comment