Logs:Fights of Younger Men
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| RL Date: 6 May, 2013 |
| Who: Z'ian, A'son |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: Z'ian reaches out to riders across the weyr, including a particular one from Glacier. |
| Where: High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 9, Month 9, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| OOC Notes: Yeah, this is totally self-indulgent. I'm aware. ;D |
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| In the days following the mock threadfall performed over High Reaches Hold and the one that was due to be flown over Tillek, Z'ian had done what he thought that he needed to do. He'd reached out a person at a time, a dragon here and there and planted the seeds of doubt. It began with some riders from Snowdrift. Polaris. Icicle. The others too. He'd known who he was able to talk and for those that he couldn't, he'd sent in someone else that was more familiar. They'd given them the option: just stay home. But it was the morning of the drill over Tillek that he'd dared to send anything out to a rider from Glacier. He hadn't bothered with some, too set in their ways to care for what he'd have to say one way or the other. They would do what they wanted to. But there was at least one or two; that he'd talked to before. At least one or two that he'd had a drink and friendly conversation with. He leaned his arm against the entrance to his weyr, looking across the bowl. He imagined he could tell which one was his from here. Tsanth shifted on their ledge, eyes whirling. « Nikoth. » He sent, a wash of warm sand flooding out to the older bronze. « No. » Crash. The sound of a drum tumbling over onto the floor, definitive. « Nikoth. » A soft surface for that crash, cushioning it. « No. » The smash of wood against hide stretched over a hollow barrel. « Don't fly. » Little grains coating everything, itchy but cool. A'son grumped, directing a glance towards the hammock where a tangled mess of blonde hair peeked through the mesh of rope. He was at his ledge, helmet swinging from his fingers when he went and put his other hand to Nikoth's muscular side. Just the faintest hints of age beginning to show, he noticed them. « Tsanth's wishes that we stay. » The message was passed along reluctantly, the fast paced drum of his agitation thrumming through his mind. « He's insistent. And annoying. » He could only feel mild surprise. He'd known that would be coming, people had become aware (at least peripherally) of the younger Wingleader's grassroots movement amongst the riders these last couple of days. Z'ian was stirring something up with someone. But who? He shielded his face and stared up the bowl wall, looking at the vacant eyes of so many empty weyrs. Which one was his? There was a laundry list of things he didn't like about High Reaches right now. Things that he couldn't and would never agree with. He didn't know if the fire would ever stir in his chest again like it used to, but for a few days he could entertain the fight of other younger men. "Fuck it. Let him know that we're staying in. Bed is looking a lot more appealing right now." |
Comments
Comments on "Logs:Fights of Younger Men"Azaylia (Dragonshy (talk)) left a comment on Tue, 07 May 2013 01:16:41 GMT.
Aaaah. Blast from the past!
Alida (Alida (talk)) left a comment on Tue, 07 May 2013 01:39:08 GMT.
Yep; still sounds like the younger A'son (and Nikoth) I remember. ^^
K'del (K'del (talk)) left a comment on Tue, 07 May 2013 09:19:26 GMT.
Loooooooooooooooove this so much. A'son forever.
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