Logs:Sand and Air
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| RL Date: 26 March, 2013 |
| Who: Solith, Tsanth |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: A beach bum is kind to a little airhead. |
| Where: High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 6, Month 5, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: A layer of patchy clouds covers the sky. The air feels cool and damp, but there is no rainfall today. |
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| There's movement in the cool, damp air, or perhaps it's in the interwoven connections between dragon and dragon. Someone, a little one, is ghosting along that netting on little fog feet, like walking on a hammock and trying to not fall off. (Solith to Tsanth) To Solith, Tsanth is somewhere amongst the strings of the netting. A patch that's particularly weighty, grains of sand clinging to it in the moist night air. She doesn't notice at first, but then she's still so young. She follows impulse after impulse, from one to the next, those little diaphanous tendrils of connection. It's only when she 's about to cross by him altogether that she notices a bit of sand that's stuck to her paw, or what might as well be her paw, and nudges at it. Will it come off? (Solith to Tsanth) To Solith, Tsanth's sand is a stubborn thing. It sticks to what it touches, chafes a little too. There's a heaviness to it that's not true of real life sand. But there's a tingle to the grain and if she tries to listen, she'll hear the scattering of his thoughts. All different ones, some big and some small as they bloom and die. Or really, as they dry and fall off her 'paw'. It's intriguing, even though it chafes, it scratches, it goes where it doesn't belong. Or does it? What is this itch it's caused? She eases over to listen, indiscriminate, not following /big/ or /small/ so much as /more/. (Solith to Tsanth) To Solith, Tsanth always has more. Drifting thoughts, they spring up and flow away. But the closer she gets the more focused they become until all the tiny thought-voices meld together into one. They don't disappear however, they remain in the background echoing as they leave him for other places. « What is your name, little one? » He must know. But he allows a lady to introduce herself. She squeaks. Is she a lady? So little, so transparent? « Solith. I am Solith. » There's a whimsical, thoughtless shadow of S-s-solith, said in a boy's voice. « How should I know you? » (Solith to Tsanth) To Solith, Tsanth confirms, yes. She is a lady, as small and transparent as she is now. The sand she touched along the netting is there in force now, a long expanse of beach glistening in the sun. « I am Tsanth. » With his mind's eye he shows himself to her. Much larger than she, shiny bronzed hide. But still, he may not be quite as immense as some of the others she's seen. « Who is Solith? » Can she do the same, show herself as she is? The breath of fresh air picks up a hint of that warmth, skittering along that sand, as though she'd lift some of its grains in the air if she could. And the little dragon does marvel at his size, far larger than Olveraeth, than Isath, possibly larger than what she's been told are the Spires. Can she. She can try. And then he gets a vision that's just a bit of fog at first, until it grows more translucent than transparent and finally approaches opacity. « So! » A pair of paws, what might be a leafy green but bluer in the shadows, with claws. See how the claws resemble the spires? She makes them move, too. (Solith to Tsanth) To Solith, Tsanth is gently amused by her attempts and he whisks the image away with a breeze of salty air. In it's place he puts forth one that's more full dragon, albeit very young looking. Finely boned, with the colors that she showed him. All of it, including the claws that resembles those spires. « You? » Hmm. « Close! » The wings are even larger, the eyes are larger and definitely brighter, the tail is much, much, much longer, practically the length of all of the rest of her... no, definitely that long and then a bit more. She's tickled by that salty breeze, and borrows it to buoy the wings up. They don't flap or anything, but still the image floats upward. And perhaps even Solith herself might seem to believe it, until there's a suddenly passionate, « I can't wait to fly. » (Solith to Tsanth) To Solith, Tsanth is deeply enjoying the game of adjusting the mental image of the young dragon. It floats away from them on that breeze. Sad. Though he soon abandons it for her other talk, the thought of flying. The view of the expanse of the beach changes, shifts perspective. They look down on it not as if they stand, but as they're much further above it. « You'll love it. All the things you'll be able to see. Feel the wind. It's a good thing. » Oh. Solith's ever so forlorn, at that, that tiny gleaming speck that's rising and becoming transparent again and disintegrating. Only... the viewpoing is changing, and that's interesting, at least until one forepaw comes into view, flailing, and then the other one. « I can't reach! » (Solith to Tsanth) To Solith, Tsanth rumbles, amusement and lightly soothing as he rights the image once again. The salty wind is back, blowing at her back. « You should head along now, little one. » The beach is gone and he shows her the sight of the barracks, where all good weyrlings sleep at night and don't stay up late talking to older bronzes. « Rest. » He's gentle with her as he ushers Solith from his mind-scape, distancing from her with a multitude of whispered thoughts. |
Comments
Comments on "Logs:Sand and Air"Azaylia (Dragonshy (talk)) left a comment on Thu, 28 Mar 2013 19:39:18 GMT.
*whimpercoos* Awwww, ickle Solith. ;^; She so cute. Also, Tsanth sounds itchy. :l And like he would end up in uncomfortable places by the end of the day. XD
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