Logs:Tug o' Warg
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| RL Date: 2 January, 2015 |
| Who: Azaylia, Alida |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: Alida meets the newest addition to Azaylia's pack and the two riders catch up. |
| Where: Western Bowl, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
| Mentions: A'rist/Mentions, Barnabas/Mentions |
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| Western Bowl, High Reaches Weyr The bowl's vast dirt floor extends in a rough oval from west to east, only sparse clumps of grass surviving between the crisscrossed pathways of daily traffic. To the northwest stand massive gates to the world beyond, allowing people, livestock, and tithes to pass beneath some of the seven jagged spires that stand sentinel over that area of the bowl. In late afternoons, their spindly, fingerlike shadows stretch over that end of the bowl all the way to the living cavern's hulking brass doors in the far north. Eastward, the bowl sprawls on toward the lake, sloping slightly downward to allow runoff from rain and snowmelt, but to the south it's caged by more cliffs of dark, rough-cut granite. Rocks poke up from the ground here, a few large boulders and many smaller outcroppings worn smooth in spots by time and use. A few ground weyr entrances dot the wall, the most frequented ledge set up like a patio while the largest ledge services the Weyrleaders' complex, directly beside the huge entrance to the hatching sands. A more human-sized entrance, left of that, leads to the galleries.
Alida's post-bath on this rather lovely, early autum day, the only vaguely-damp bluerider striding unhurriedly from the main Cavern entrance into the main Bowl. Not very far from Hraedhyth, a slightly drowsy Ilicaeth sucks up those final rays from Rukbat from the Rim, the gritty blue managing to unlid only the outermost of one of his triple 'lids to try and focus on his rider...waaaay down there. And just as his rider looks about to toss a bit of a grump that her bestest buddy isn't already on his way down to pick her up and take her to their home...there's a snorting something grabbing her attention instead, green eyes following her pivoting form to bring 'Bully McSnortsAlot' and Azaylia into her line of sight. What might've been irritation quickly transitions into curiosity and a bit of smirky humor, the blonde slowly moving towards the other pair with a small smile, while her lifemate puffs dust, sand, and quartz towards his matriarch. « Saved by th' bell. » Or dog, really. Hraedhyth doesn't dislike the creature, although she does share the confusion with people who have side-eye their Weyrwoman's decision at keeping it. « So it does have its uses. » Allowing Ilicaeth to be lazy, for one. The canine finds that wherry plush and gives it a good shake before running back over to the laughing goldrider. In a warm autum dress, Azaylia crouches down to take the toy, allowing her pet to give a good thrash of his head before he relents. "Alida!" It's a happy greeting, still carrying a hint of laughter. The canine bounds over to the blonde, desperately interested in sniffing her boots and wagging his nubbed tail. « Mhm... » Ilicaeth languidly 'reassures' his dam, the blue's dry baritone touched with knowledge and vague humor. Images are shared with Hraedhyth, easy and unhurried, of a much younger Alida teaching various kinds of canines the skills their owners or handlers want...of the even paler-haired girl-child even playing with her charges when nobody is looking. Pups, adults, herders and guard dogs...all are handled by the then Apprentice Beasthandler Alida, a middle-aged man with brown hair and a goatee steadily and quietly guiding her in the background. A good enough time. As for the blonde in her present 'incarnation,' well, she quirks a rather indulgent little smile for the sight of Zay and pup playing, then slows to a halt while allowing the bulldog to investigate her without any interference. Her manner is all calm self-assurance even as she answers the goldrider, "Zay. I finally get ta' see yer bundle..." Tsk-tsk on the Weyrwomen for not bringing the pup over to visit sooner. Smirk. "It's a little tricky, prying him away from Bones." No, not really. There's a good chance that the canine just follows the man around whether the gardener likes it or not-- but he's still Azaylia's. "His name is Warg." She cooes, and the sound of his name has the canine's ears perked as he looks toward his owner. Once he realizes that he isn't being called, the canine goes back to snort-snuffling around Alida and chuffing to get her attention. "It has been a while, hasn't it? How're you?" Her dark eyes scan the rim, knowingly, "And Ilicaeth?" Hraedhyth accepts the images, turning them over in her flames as she considers the past with a dragon's curiosity. It's not now, but it's still good. "Good with dogs, then?" the blonde inquires of Azaylia of Bones, Alida soon slowly crouching down for the pup to investigate more closely. She doesn't look directly at Warg, and her body doesn't directly face him, but a hand is slowly settled to the ground for him to snuffle, if he so wishes. While observing the pup's reactions, the bluie's alto reaches out to the other woman to note, "Yeah... lots happening, these days." That observation is less clipped and casual than is usual for her, but there's little in Alida's person to suggest anything more than memories of recent, difficult times. Shrug. "I'm busy. And apparently, *he's* lazy." Snerk. A quick look is spared up to the goldrider to assess her state as the Glacier rider inquires back, "You?" Ilicaeth, finally having to conceed that he needs to wake up, mentally peers over Hraedhyth's shoulder while she peruses those memories he offered her...of times before either of them was shelled. Nestled quietly within them is the blue's solid vein of pride in his lifemate. "In a sort of 'he is a dog' kind of way..." Which is a yes and a no. "They get along well. I think he secretly spoils Warg, though." Azaylia has a patient sigh for that, shifting the damp plush from one hand to the other. Warg is interested in sniffing Alida's hand, pawing at it and trying to nose under for the affection he's so used to. "I'm... yes. A lot has happened." Her smile is gentle, tentative, "Things seem to have settled for now. But it's hard to let your guard down after so much." Her gaze falls down to the wrinkled pup, and she adds in a murmur, "I've flown over with Iceberg over Nabol, recently. Think I might do that from time to time." Even if it only offers the illusion of a solution. There's a short little bark of laughter from Alida at Zay's word of Bones' 'dogginess,' the outburst quieted quickly so as not to potentially freak out investigating Warg. With the bulldog's apparent acceptance of the blonde comes her steady and honest bit of a smile - still rarer, Turns after her introduction to the Weyr - those fingers reaching out to pet, scritch, and rub wherever Warg will accept them. Spoken in gently indulgent tones to the pup: "Bet'cher a real pain..." Smirk. The expression fades slowly at the other woman's next words, Alida allowing herself the shift of focus from one important 'task' to another, green eyes flicking from Warg to Azaylia again as she bobs her head deeply. Agreed. "First High Reaches, then Tillek, now Nabol..." is murmured quietly while she allows both hands to lightly play with the bulldog puppy. Sigh. "Ever think uv' takin' a short bit uv' a turn at sweeprides, now and again?" Warg gives a start at Alida's laugh, but once it subsides he's back to coaxing a belly rub out of the bluerider. Snort. He's no stranger to pets, and she'll have the loaf of a canine on his side and perhaps his back, tongue hanging as he snorts his happiness. "A little chew-y, but I believe all puppies are." Azaylia's smile gains some strength as she watches the two, offering an honest answer to Alida's question. "Yes, actually. It was good for Hraedhyth, and... and I think it might be good for Holds to see a queen in their skies every once in a while." A firm nod follows, even if her expression is somewhat hesitant. When she works, Alida's often a hard-ass. But at play, as she sort-of is right now, the woman allows parts of her less-often seen to emerge - even if just a bit - her quick grin touched with affection for the grunting little squirt she's now more-or-less playing with while squatted on her haunches. Indirectly to Azaylia, "Yep. Just protect yer furniture an' toes until he's a Turn old." Smirk. To Warg: "You little shit." Grin. Another, and this time longer look upward is given to the Weyrwoman - assessing, curious, observant - the bluerider then slowly nodding back her agreement. "Glacier remembers its own... You feel like it, pair up with me sometime, an' we can raze their fields." She sounds so serious...yet so dry...green eyes dancing a little into browns. "Mm. I didn't think about what it'd be like, having a canine with so many bones lying around." Hraedhyth's trophies, not the gardner. "It's about the only time she pays him much mind- when he's touching something that's hers." Little shit is right. Azaylia looks startled by Alida's invitation, hands (and stuffed wherry) going to her hips, "Don't even joke about that. All it takes is for one Holder to overhear..." It just dawns on her, then, that they're in the middle of a Weyr. With a strained sigh, "I'm sorry. I suppose I am wound a little tight, with everything that's happened." Warg, bless his heart, is blissfully ignorant of people-problems. "Oh maaan..." Alida offers in snickering comment to the scene she's immediately envisioning at Azaylia's words: Warg gnawing on Hrae's 'prizes' while the gold stares and fusses and complains. Commented in falsely-chirpy fashion to tease the goldrider: "Thanks fer the primer, fer when *I* get my canine." Still mock-tussling with hands and fingers with 'Little Shit,' Alida remains mostly unfazed when Zay rounds on her, the bluie only looking up silently into brown eyes, then nodding once as she comments casually, "Good thing we've no dragonets, right now..." Cue greens flicking to that ragged mini-wherry at one hip, then back to the other woman's gaze. And then the seriousness of the Weyr's current situation seeps back into place, and her mouth, expression tightens some. Sigh. It takes some effort for Azaylia to find calm, to remind herself that the heart of her Weyr should be a sanctuary from what's going on. She's somewhat successful, walking over and offering the stuffed wherry to Alida as some raggedy peace offering. "If you're in no rush, I was told Warg comes from great stock. I'll be breeding him, when he gets old enough." Which isn't a long time yet, but a long-off project for the once herder to look forward to. The proximity of his toy has Warg's eyes snapping open and he wriggles to try and get on his feet. Azaylia's curious now, "Why is it a good thing?" There's only slight hesitation at the odd 'peace offering,' Alida soon enough accepting the raggedey, slobbered-on toy, and shaking it in prey-like fashion along the ground to tease Warg into pouncing the thing. "No rush..." the bluie quietly assures Azaylia, looking back and forth between pup and woman, nodding to those words of the canine. "No hurry. Give 'im a few extra Turn ta mature fully in temperament, and..." Shrug. Whatever she was about to say is clipped off in favor of a thoughtful, "Think I'm gonna look fer a herding-type, some day..." Waggle-wiggle goes the spitty-wherry toy as the bluerider answers, "'Cause one uv them might mistake that toy once in yer hand fer a quick snack, an' pounce you 'r Warg fer possession uv' it." Eyeroll. Alida suddenly becomes the most interesting person in the world as far as Warg is concerned. Well, her hand, that is. He scrambles onto paws that are still too big for him and clumsily face-plants at the wherry in an attempt to sink his underbite into it. "Herding-type? Interesting. Although... Having a dog on an actual ledge sounds a little dangerous." Unlike Azaylia's ground weyr. The scenerio painted by Alida only has Azaylia's smile growing, a heavy breath leaving her as she glances at her very not-glowing gold. "I suppose your right." Judging from the way she says it, it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. "It's all a ply so I c'n get a ground-level weyr..." Alida replies blandly, again rolling her eyes at Azaylia, then smirking a little as she factors in, "I'll either commission a door, 'r... well, have ta apply fer that ground weyr." Snert-shrug. "Guess I tend ta personally prefer a dog that c'n play many roles, if needed." Herd, track, companion...and - given Alida's proclivities - guard and fight, quite possibly. To Zay's laden sigh, the squatting bluie notes, "It's an Interval, Zay. She's young, strong, adaptable." Hraedhyth. More shaking of the wherry-toy and some continued and indulgent looks at wobbly-Warg presage a thoughtful though cautious, "Ever think uv' askin' for some new Blood...a transfer?" "It isn't as if they're being used..." Azaylia manages to stifle a grimace at the harsh truth of it, having to walk by the empty homes on a daily basis. "A door sounds like the best, if strange, solution." Hraedhyth turns to stare at the riders when it becomes obvious she's being talked about-- felt through her bond, no doubt. "Oh I know..." But still. Warg tries to yank Alida into some tug-of-war, snorting and grunting from the effort of holding onto the poor wherry's wing. "I thought about it." Honest, if a little curt, "It's not like a transfer is needed. As you said, it's an Interval." Posessive? Guarded? Whatever it is, the Weyrwoman is obviously against the idea. There's - at first - only a spare nod from Alida, the bluie knowing full well how Azaylia truly means her comment of the ground weyrs, though she's certainly not selfless enough to pass up a flat, "I'm not turnin' it down, though, if the offer's ever still on the table." Nose-wrinkle. She knows how 'higher ups' would react to a mere wingrider being offered a ground-weyr before them...but the hard flash in green eyes might make one think Alida would tell all of them to piss off. And then there's Warg (not Maude), his yanking inspiring her to a tight little smile, and a bent-around offering of the plucky little wherry's butt to his undershot jaw. "Yer gonna rip off 'is poor wing. What'll 'e fly with?" Snork. To the other woman's curtness, the blonde merely nods in apparently semi-distracted fashion, looking up only after a few moments have passed, whether she's successfully gotten Warg to take some wherry butt or not. Quietly, "I heard..." Like who *didn't*?! "...that Igen's eggs hatched out without incident." Unlike the problems 'Reaches, Fort have had, not to mention the paranoia at Telgar. Azaylia doesn't look to be the one making such an offer, just shaking her head with a soft smile for Alida's tenacity. Warg doesn't seem terribly keen on answering the bluerider, far too busy trying to rip that wherry wing off. "Mm. I said my congratulations at the hatching. Maybe whatever effected Fort is passing?" And not High Reaches, because that was all Lythronath's fault. With a glance up at the sky, "It's getting dark. Do you have time for a cup of tea?" She figured there'd not be any real weyr offering... but a 'girl' has to try. As for Warg, Alida's just rolling her eyes at his bulldog tenacity, and playfully 'spanking' his pushed in head with that useless wherry butt while he tries to de-wing it. "Hard-head..." is her again-indulgent comment to the canine, greens flicking from dog to woman to observe the Weyrwoman as she again speaks. "Maybe..." is commented without judgement, the bluie then giving her contemporary a half-smile. "Yeah...nothin' ta do t'night." A squint up and over at Ilicaeth's position on the Rim inspires her to a low addition of, "Ilicaeth ain't gonna move 'is ass any time soon, either." Hraedhyth is a party to the blue's snarky baritone comment of, « Not with *that* crappy attitude... » Snort! "If you've got it, I might go fer cinnamon 'n some honey..." She sounds at least a little hopeful as she slowly stands...lets Warg have his toy. Hraedhyth's dark smoke curls, curious, « Is that not always her attitude? » It could be Alida's 'bullying' of her canine, or her gold's comment that has Azaylia stifling a soft laugh behind her hand. Warg is triumphant! He gives the wherry a good thrashing in victory before turning to follow Azaylia as they head for home. "I have the cinnamon, at least." Along with a variety of other spiced and not-spiced flavors. No doubt the visit will end with Warg sleeping on somepart of Alida. |
Comments
Tela (16:24, 8 January 2015 (EST)) said...
Even off camera, Bones + Warg must be my OTP, but aren't Alida and Warg adorable in their own right?
- is not tempted by weyrs with their own baths even if they are on the ground, really, believe me*
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