Logs:First Choice
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| RL Date: 23 May, 2013 |
| Who: H'kon, Z'ian |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: Z'ian and H'kon chitchat. Kind of. |
| Where: Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 12, Month 11, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Pretty nice. |
| Mentions: Azaylia/Mentions, Taikrin/Mentions |
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| Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr(#276RJs) The rest of the bowl may be barren, grass barely surviving at best, but here by the lake, it's brilliantly green in the warmer months: thickening and thriving in the silty, boulder-dotted soil just before it transitions to soft sand and thence to the cool, clear water itself. A large freshwater lake fed by a low waterfall, it not only provides warm-weather bathing space for humans and dragons, but has one end fenced off as a watering hole for the livestock in the feeding grounds. The water there is often muddier than the rest of the clear lake, whose shallows drop off abruptly several yards out into deep water, and whose edge undulates against the coarse-hewn bowl wall: here close enough to just be bramble-covered rocks, there far enough away that a narrow land bridge divides the main lake from a smallish pond. Between are several rocky outcroppings that form excellent makeshift diving points, though only one -- across the bridge -- has a set of narrow, slippery, quite possibly tempting stairs. The sky is clear today. The air remains cool and damp, but the weather is overall pleasant today. Dampness in the air is of no consequence when one is flipping one's wings in and out of the water. Just like one Arekoth is doing. The brown does his best to send water all along himself without having to dip too far beneath the surface, and leaves H'kon damp by association - and proximity - in the process. There are others along the shore, soaking in the last bits of warmth they can before winter hits. Some are even not concerned with steering clear of Arekoth. Mostly kids, but what can you do except look at them with stern eyebrows? Tsanth enjoys the water even in the late fall, as does his rider. The bronze floats off a ways even as Z'ian makes to trudge out of the lake. It wouldn't do to stand around completely exposed to the elements, so he begins to towel off. First at the hair, that's when he notices Arekoth. Then everywhere else as he begins to look along the stretch of shore for the brown's rider. If Arekoth is equipped with a sixth towel sense, he's playing it cool, biding his time. Focusing on H'kon, with head eerily still while the rest of him thrashes about in the water, stare intense, snout and 'ridges making him look downright fierce. H'kon blinks when water hits his face, only, speckles his shirt with droplets. Another wave has his own careful look and apologetic - except stern, still - nods going out to random folk. Z'ian remains, for the time, unseen. Z'ian's hair is quick to towel dry, wrapping it around his shoulders he trudges along the shore until he's quite close to the other rider. Leaning down so he can talk close to H'kon's face, "I think he's up to something." It's just a case. Perhaps in preparation, he wraps himself up tighter. H'kon sees Z'ian now, and goes on looking for some time, quiet, solemn, as his lifemate goes about making a show of himself and all the splendour that is his wingsails in the droplets. His head still remains still. After much too long a contemplation period, H'kon offers, "You might have said, 'I think he's still breathing.'" Some time ago, standing here this long next to H'kon might have felt strange. But instead, Z'ian seems to be accepting of the period of silence. He watches after Arekoth just as the brown's rider does. "I think he's still breathing too." He remarks after an equally long stretch. "How are you?" Long stretches are well and good if you've got two legs and are boring. It's just at the end of the third one between the two men, which H'kon breaks with a deep breath and visible rise of his chest, a sigh, and words of, "Much the same," that Arekoth takes the rinse cycle upon himself. H'kon closes an eye, the beginning of a tug at the corner of his mouth barely actualised, when more droplets hit. "And you?" "I'm considering returning my dragon and farming llamas." Z'ian admits, a twitch along the corners of his mouth. He straightens when it seems that Arekoth is about to perhaps, spray water everywhere. The towel is once again tightened around him. Somewhere out in the lake the small bronze makes a complaint. It probably has to do with being better than a llama. "Llamas would not be my first choice of profession," comes relatively quickly, considering the recent pace of their conversation. This time, there's no hinting pull to his lips, and after a quick look to his brown, H'kon's eyes are on Z'ian. Pensive, this time. Serious, as per his usual. "Herdbeasts?" Z'ian suggests instead, one eyebrow arching upwards. And then finally and more truthfully, "I've been better. But I've been worse." Finally, the brown ducks down a bit lower, and gets himself well soaked. This makes the perfect time for an exit, wings wide and dripping strategically. H'kon doesn't take evasive action. He's still studying that bronzerider. "Troubled?" is shared at last. Z'ian glances in Arekoth's direction, hunching his shoulders up in preparation for the upcoming water-off-wings. For the question he lifts his shoulders. "It's a scary thing when what you thought was solid isn't." "The Weyr is not itself when it has at its head one who would bend it to her own purposes." Arekoth lets the water sheet down from his wings, gives a couple shakes when the drops slow, and then moves along. His head rotates now, to keep both riders in view. "There will be no solidity in that." "It's been like this for so long, I just never realized the extent of it." Z'ian comments and tries to keep his face from getting hit directly with the water off Arekoth's wings. "Or who was helping to hide it from everyone." H'kon nods, face still locked, brow furrowed and lips thin-pressed and all. "If this is payment for what she feels owed her..." It's a thought unfinished, and H'kon shakes his head. "Her place is not at the head of the Weyr. Nor yet is yours." And there's a careful glance put Z'ian's way. Arekoth preens and looks pretty. "It's beginning to crumble, by bits." Z'ian seems to find some comfort in that. However, that last remark of the brownrider's has him lifting his eyebrows, glancing over to him. "Excuse me?" "There are those who would suggest otherwise. Boreal." For one. H'kon tilts his head faintly in Z'ian's direction. "There is only one person who can rightly be followed at this time." And what sounds like it might go somewhere ends up hovering there, with H'kon turning green eyes to Arekoth. "We are both tired of being still. Some order needs be restored." Arekoth flicks his wingtips. "Boreal." The bronzerider sighs, takes a breath. "Suggestions don't mean reality." Z'ian lapses into silence, shifting his shoulders and staring out over the lake. "Azaylia's thrown Taikrin to the side. Riders who push against her no longer need to fear an unjust punishment for their actions. There's some order to that." He stretches his fingers. "Before it would have been impossible for dragons to ignore Szadath, but now. He no longer has full support, they can go to Hraedhyth. Rally behind her. Do that with us." "Suggestion can force many a strange action," H'kon offers as counter, though there's nothing aggressive to it. His eyes are still on his dragon, though he has the decency to not look straight on Arekoth, but turn his head enough that his mouth is pointed slightly more in Z'ian's direction. There's another of those pauses, those long ones, and even the brown doesn't try to fill the space. "Fishing," he decides. He exhales a breath of air, glancing upwards towards the sky. "Not for me." The fishing. But then again his first choice was llamas so his judgement really ought to be questioned. "No matter," comes in H'kon time, again. He takes his hands from his pockets, and rubs idly at the traces since-dried drops of water once made along his cheeks. "They cannot simply be traded." That must serve as farewell, in his mind. The little brownrider starts away. "Maybe I could sell him." There's further complaints from his lifemate all the way out there, Z'ian just smiles look in Tsanth's direction. H'kon is moving on, moving away and he twists to glance after him. "Good bye." Simple as that. |
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