Logs:The Raid
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| RL Date: 20 August, 2014 |
| Who: Rosvelth, Teisyth |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: When it is treasure you're after, Rosvelth is plainly your guy. |
| Where: Feeding Grounds / Weyrling Barracks, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 8, Month 9, Turn 35 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: A'rist/Mentions, Jadzia/Mentions, Quinlys/Mentions, Saysha/Mentions, V'ros/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Thank you to V'ros for the donation of a fine blanket and to Jadzia for allowing Teisyth to chew on your cot. And of course many thanks to Rh'mis for being up for something so silly, and A'rist for precipitating it. :D <3 <3 Back-dated. |
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| She'd explained the problem to Rosvelth quite seriously over a couple of gory herdbeasts in the feeding grounds. « An' so I need another one, but G'laer says I got that 'un from the weyrling barracks an' I'm not supposed t'go there by myself, an' G'laer won't go with me for some reason. » No idea why! « So I thought maybe you could go with me since yer so good at findin' things. » Teisyth's hopeful look to the brown is probably a little endearing (or gross) with the way she's got sinew and bone sticking out of her teeth. « ... it's treasure, isn't it. » Rosvelth has come to that conclusion all on his own, finding Teisyth's description far too, well, undramatic, at least for his tastes. « Treasure, Teisyth. » Bone is also treasure, though the brown does not attempt to claim that for his collection; anyway, he's got bone of his own, cracked and sucked on, as best he can manage. « I bet it's a story we can tell our children's children: the daring rescue, the victory. We should go now! » Now, now, now. « Yes! » Teisyth is enthusiastic to agree to the first, so glad he understands! The green starts to ask, « Are we going to have children to have child- » Only, then there's going! The carcass is abandoned as she follows Rosvelth with vigor. The treasure! It's theirs for the taking! She hopes, anyway. The approach to the barracks is promising. Lunch time! Those few people and dragonets that are about aren't paying much attention to the comings and goings of the bowl, but the green isn't certain of just how to go about hunting for this particular treasure, so she shuffles along behind the brown. He's clearly more experienced. It's a good thing Teisyth doesn't finish that question, since answering it might involve some very creative tale-telling indeed; anyway, doing is much more interesting. Rosvelth's not really all that subtle - and clearly useless at stealth - but perhaps that's not such a bad thing: if he were human, he'd simply be marching straight into the barracks. As it is, he's simply breezy, so full of confidence that surely he must have every reason to be heading straight for the barracks. « Confidence, » he advises Teisyth. « You have to make them believe you're supposed to be here. » Obviously. « Okay! » Teisyth is, shockingly, enthusiastic. She's also, of course, a little over-the-top and sets about extending « Howdy-do! »s to every pair they pass. She gets sidetracked a moment speaking to one of the blues who might not remember that she's not actually helping teach them anymore. Soon enough, she's on Rosvelth's tail again, gallumphing her way with her typical awkward, energetic stride into the barracks. « Okay. Where do we find it? » Nevermind that since it's her treasure they're looking for, perhaps she's better suited to answering the question than asking it.
Tucked off the back of the training room, the barracks are a huge, high cavern that stretches far back into the stone of the Weyr. Both of the longer walls are lined with couches for the dragons, enough for a couple of Pass-sized clutches at once, each matched with a cot and press for the weyrling dragonrider. In this day and age, however, the couches in the back have been allowed to grow dusty with long disuse. Hearths are spaced between every few couches to heat the big room. For decoration, there are a number of tapestries on the walls, looking almost as beat-up as the couches out in the training room, but scattered flower pots with their bright blooming contents provide a cheery touch. Additionally, some of the couches have had graffiti scratched into them over the Turns that were never quite cleaned off: smears of chalk messages or even rough pictures, some not fit for young eyes. In many cases names and dates have been painstakingly carved into the rock, a record of those that once made their home here.
« In the barracks! » comes the oh-so-helpful answer from the green, her nose inadvertently bouncing off of Rosvelth's hindquarters when he stops to nose the spot. The shaking of her head that must come next to make her nose feel right again leads her to distraction as she moves to nose a claimed but presently unoccupied couch. « Lookieheeeere! » Teisyth's nose has found a very fine blanket! Were they looking for a blanket? She found one! It probably even belongs to someone. Rosvelth is too into this whole quest thing to be long-suffering about Teisyth's simple-minded answer; he snorts, and snorts again when she bounces off of him, but really, he's not bothered. This is too much fun! He turns to peer after the green and her discovery as she veers off, clearly delighted by the discovery, although... « Wasn't it a pillow you wanted? » Beat. « Not that that isn't a very fine blanket! Cuddly. Treasure, I should think. The kind of blanket one could snuggle up against on a rainy night, as one tells great stories of adventure and glory. » « Yer so smart! » What would she do without him?! Teisyth drops the blanket in the aisle as she comes to butt her head against Rosvelth's shoulder in an affectionate fashion. Clearly, he would never lead her wrong. « Alright. Pillow. » She's looking, she's looking, she's... distracted again! But a cot mattress is closer! Nevermind that it means she's knocking over the press at the foot of the cot as she clumsily gets her teeth around its edge to drag it off the supports. « This one looks good! » Mattress, pillow. Same same, right? « Oh, but it tastes funny. » And then there's a lot of tongue action as she tries to air out her mouth. At least one of the young dragons is present in the barracks, and that young green has poked her head up to look at these two big dragons and the mess they're making. « Pillow, » Rosvelth reminds Teisyth, angling past a few more of the couches and hunting down the aisles. « It's all so small. » Or is it just that he's big? « Your tongue is funny. Maybe you should go lick up some blood, if you can find some. » Only - alas - it's all probably pretty old at this point, given the young dragons are feeding themselves in the feeding grounds. « Mmm. » The idea is an appealing one. So appealing that, yes, the pillow is once again forgotten in favor of Teisyth snuffling along the ground, her tongue lolling out to the side. Blood, blood, blood. Sigh. No blood. Only then she's trying to bound past Rosvelth, but... collectively, they're big, even bigger than he alone, so there might be some trampled couches in the process. « Look! Flowers! » In the pots dotted around! ... Also not pillows. Then suddenly, it occurs to her, « Rosvelth, what kind of treasure are you going to take? » Because surely since he's helping her find her treasure, he should have some as well, shouldn't he? Pushed aside, Rosvelth ends up teetering into someone's cot, which wobbles rather dramatically, but does not - thankfully - actually fall to the ground. « I will have the treasure of the story! » the brown begins, though now that she's mentioned it... He peers at the cot in front of him, and then the nearest couch, and then... « Maybe I'll-- » That green is staring at him again, eyes whirling faster and faster. It's distracting. « You're going to take a weyrling home? » Teisyth is peering at that green and then at Rosvelth. « Do you think Rh'mis'll like the company? » Now she's looking for the green's lifemate. Maybe it's an attractive girl or something? « Are they going to be a gift for him? » She wants to know, quite cheerful, if a little doubtful about the whole rabbit hole she's mentally running down. Only, then she gasps! « A pillow! » It's under the green. In the green's couch. « Rosvelth, I need it. » That one. Specifically that one. Take her home? That may not have been what Rosvelth was intending, or where he was going, but now... now, the green crouches lower as if to avoid the attentions of the bigger two dragons; she's only a little thing to begin with, and so young, and... « I want to stay here! » she bleats, hastily. « Hush, » is Rosvelth's answer, rather more firm than it needs to be, though he, in turn, is distracted by Teisyth's discovery. « The pillow. » It's kind of awe-filled. The green cowers further. « NO. » she says, despite the cowering. «< It's mine, you can't have it. I'll call my Saysha. I will! » It's probably a very good thing that Teisyth isn't an almost assistant anymore. Stealing from pupils is probably frowned upon. She mentally implores Rosvelth. They have to get that pillow. « You don't need to call Saysha, » she tries, only she's really no good at this guile thing and she's looking at the pillow more than the weyrling. « DON'T SAY HER NAME. » That... seems to be a sore spot; the poor green. Rosvelth, torn between helping his friend and avoiding this really quite unpleasant, theatrical display of temper, takes half a step backwards... right into Olveraeth, whose silence speaks volumes. ---
« Well, » begins Rosvelth, grave and solemn and yet oh-so-delighted, all at once. « That's when I reminded Olveraeth that he's not really that big, and I am significantly larger. » Somewhat larger. « It's a pity about the pillow, but... what an adventure! It was totally worth it. » Teisyth jerks abruptly. « No pillow? » the exclamation lofts her voice from alto to squeaky surprise. She has to look all around herself, a process that involves turning her head upside down up inspect her flaky-looking underbelly, just in case one of those spots might really be a sign that the pillow is really stuck there. She lifts and shakes one thick hindquarters a time, shaking rack of her back legs in turn. At last she settles again, convinced and deeply saddened. « We won't give up, will we, Rosvelth? » After all, isn't every day a new opportunity for adventure? « We will never give up, » promises - no: avers - Rosvelth. « Never, ever, ever. » Adventure is out there! |
Comments
Edyis (15:40, 16 September 2014 (EDT)) said...
<3 <3 It is always fun to see what these two get up to!
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