Logs:Bowling Dragons
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| RL Date: 2 September, 2011 |
| Who: Iolene, Evali, Sa'zl, Leova |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: Iolene studies. Yanijath stumbles. Evali talks. Ysavaeth instigates. Yggdratth bowls. Sa'zl apologizes. There's plans to go fishing. |
| Where: Weyrling Training Cavern, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 1, Month 9, Turn 26 (Interval 10) |
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| The hour is not so early, not too late. Goldilocks would have been proud with its just rightness as morning exercises have done, people have cleaned up, breakfast (for the most part) has been eaten, and it's that all too short hour of freedom before harper lessons decide to kick Iolene in the pants that the blonde girl has taken to relax. Her lanky, thin frame is nestled into the curve of a nicely padded golden side and a text is held fast in between her hands -- a text she's scribbling in along the margins and crossing out various lines in. Every so often, the hand holding the pencil reaches up to rub idly at a particularly itchy spot along Ysa's legs, the peel of recent beansprout growth obvious. Evali is no better at the terrible harper lessons than Iolene; she has about as much knowledge and likely less interest, seeing as how she never asks about anything. Or, really, ever speaks up -- Evali just listens. And watches. And does her work silently, with absurdly precise handwriting. She heads into the training cavern just a moment /after/ an overly exuberant Yanijath, who is a tangle of running, wing-flailing limbs heading in from the bowl. The faster she attempts to move, the more she stumbles, until she collapses headfirst near Ysavaeth, nearly does a somersault and lands in a pile of six limbs by her gold sister. Evali's calm step turns into more of a run, then. "-- I am sorry," she blurts, toward gold and rider, attempting to help Yanijath untangle herself once she gets there. Yanijath, however, is making cheerful happy little sounds. All that excitement of Yanijath's, it's enough that Leova glances over from the weyrling she's talking with. It's been something about the morning's exercises. Angles. Torque. And a little bicep-comparing on the side. One corner of her mouth turns up, and she murmurs something to the other weyrling, who now has to look too. There might be laughing. It's probably even good-humored. Startled, Iolene draws her feet up quickly when a bundle of green is zooming in a stumbling heap towards her. No, she does not have the sense of mind to scramble up and run away and instead watches, dumbstruck until Yanijath is done moving and Evali is nearby. On the other hand, Ysavaeth lifts her chin from the floor to spare the exciteable green one crooked hook of a headknob in askance, but in the next breath stretches forward to try and nuzzle her smaller sister up. She'll be the support, Evali can be the lifter upper, or so it seems to be what she intends as she blows an encouraging, if exasperated note to her sibling and rider. Evoking her own rider, in the most ironic manner, « I wish I could do that, what you just did. » And as if the words aren't enough a brush of bells accompanies the replay of Yanijath's somersault. Iolene? She's still there, sitting with her eyes wide above the book and a tiny, muffled, trying oh so desperately not to laugh, inquiry of: "Are you okay?" "I," replies Evali softly, trying to hide her amusement from Yanijath as she gives Ysavaeth a welcoming nod and pull-coaxes the green back up to her feet once all her feet are in the correct configuration. To think, just two months ago she was sitting in Evali's lap! "am fine, if a bit startled, though I doubt you were actually asking me so much as her, and /she/ is -- pleased." Because Yanijath has noticed that there are people over there who are laughing, and she has Ysavaeth company, and she is excited! « I made them /laugh/, » she says proudly. « Did you see? Can you hear? They are laughing! And it is not hard to do, Ysavaeth, you just have to run and then fall down! I didn't actually fall down on purpose. But I never do. And it still works out. Because I fall down a lot -- » "Shh," Evali interrupts. Bystanding rather than grandstanding over with arms a-flail, the assistant weyrlingmaster shares another quiet comment before... look, there's Yanijath! Noticing them! She waves to the littlest green, even, and this time Leova's smile makes it all the way across. She straightens away from the wall, pulls down her short sleeves. Doesn't /step/ away, though. Yet. There's more to finish up. It's to Evali that Iolene's looking, so it's likely to Evali that that question was directed. As the other girl speaks, Io slides up along Ysavaeth's side, using it initially as a prop to lean against and then as something to push off of as the book drops to her side, with the pencil lodged to keep her place. The smile she flashes Evali is beatific and the hand she extends aiming to be helpful. Not that she can do much at this point but hover. « It was very interesting, » but it's in such a voice that might indicate Ysavaeth has no actual plans of tripping, falling, and rolling over in a hapless unladylike heap. Not that she /says/ as much. Sweetly inquisitive: « Can you do it again to show me? I want to see if it looks any different when done on purpose. » "She's a handful. I mean, a good one, right? You like her as a handful, Evali?" Yanijath is being waved at! Yanijath -- tries to repeat that gesture, too, flapping her wing at Leova when the woman looks her way. Evali shakes her head, though the headshaking is entirely addressed at Yanijath's behavior and not at Iolene's question. "She is. A handful," Evali answers as she is helped up by Io's offered hand and pulls herself back to a standing position. "But I cannot imagine her any /other/ way, as she has been so since she hatched, so yes. I suppose I do." Unable to fathom that anyone would /ever/ not like her, Yanijath settles into a comfortable lying-down position near Ysavaeth that is not in a tangle. « I think it would look different! But I have to wait a little bit because it's not fun if everyone is expecting it and I /just/ did it so I'll surprise everyone again. Except I'll tell you first so you can see how it looks on purpose. » « I see. That's a wise decision. It has more impact if you do it when it is least expected, » thoughtful, even if she might only be humoring Yanijath, Ysavaeth stretches out her baby limbs before curling up again cozily with her neck lifted so her head might press lightly into the top of the green's head, all sisterly. « Have you thought of teaching all the weyrlings how to do that? How don't you get your wings tangled up? » Iolene completes the gesture of bringing Evali to her feet and then uses that hand, now released, to brush off Evali's side with that lack of personal space bubble that may be a particularly Iolene trait (or an islander one?). "I think you're well matched. She's so exuberant and-," a beat passes where Iolene considers Evali. The easy end is: 'and you're not.' But in lieu, Io concludes, "And you keep her grounded. Are you-," the girl fidgets, foot to foot and drops her gaze. "Is... are you worried about De-," fidget, "Your brother?" Evali doesn't at all seem to mind Iolene's lack of interest in Weyr standard personal space; for that matter she doesn't even seem to /notice/ except to smile and whisper a thanks now that she has been properly dusted off. "Well, I try to keep her grounded. I cannot say it always works," she says, with a smile that quickly fades as she processes the rest of what is said. Her voice drops again, as well as her expression, and she replies, "Yes. It -- I do not know where he has gone and he never met Yanijath. She does not like that, either." It's a good thing that Yanijath isn't paying any attention to the humans' conversation, or she would start to sulk, and a sulking Yanijath is a dangerous thing. « Practice! I just don't. My wings used to tangle up but now I hold them out of the way. Ooooh, we could all do a synchronized falling over and rolling thing ... » Iolene considers Evali a long moment, her expressive face twitching as if she might say something. "Do you think he's still alive?" is her primary concern that she asks after instead. « You're quite the character, » remarks Ysavaeth, fondness enveloping her smooth, honey rich tone. Her, « How do you like your rider? » is on a fairly tight band, directed at Yanijath. It's morning still, just after all the dirty work is done: exercises, cleaning up, breakfast, and is the hour before those who need remedial harper lessons, particularly in history. On one side of the training room, Leova sits chatting with a few weyrlings while Ysavaeth and Yanijath are at the other, curled up with the gold nosing at her smaller sister in sibling affection. Not far off stand Iolene and Evali, chatting. "I... It's weird not having him around. It's still strange not waking up with Rilka curled up next to me. I wonder-," the blonde girl's jaw works and brow furrows in worry, "I hope she's ok." « I can fall over and roll with the best of them! » This is, of course, the time when Yggdratth explodes upon the scene, not worrying about silly things like 'character' and not hearing questions about liking riders. He's too busy sending himself tumbling, nearly /flying/, across the room to crash into his sisters. "No! No, don't -- oh -- shards," mutters Sa'zl, having /been/ running hard at his dragon's heels, stumbling to a halt as he watches the Great Collision, in whatever form it takes. "Sometimes, there's just no /stopping/ you, is there," he remonstrates to his blue. "You have to be careful! You could hurt somebody!" Like Yanijath? Skinny and small, the green makes a fairly good target for blues to bowl over; she's all a tangle of limbs again even as she is trying to answer Ysavaeth with, « Of course I do! Doesn't everyone? Don't you like yours? » At least she can actually keep conversations secret, too, though her: « HEY! » is broadcast loudly to any dragon in or just outside the entire cavern. A flailing wing whacks at Yggdratth's snout, or at least tries to -- it might not be actually near her at the time. Evali has backed off, and is just ... staring at this exchange, the words having been completely knocked out of her. She puts a comforting hand on Iolene's shoulder, letting out a sigh, but whatever she may have actually said was swept away by yet more dragon antics. Ysavaeth lets out the most unladylike squawk, and suddenly she's less concerned about making conversation as much as getting out of the way. But being a toddler just yet, and not quite as skinny and small as her siblings, she can't quite gather her limbs up in time to not be a very large pin for the bowling ball that Yggdratth shows up as. Her sudden explosion of anger is palpable, even without words, and a certain petulance lines the clanging chains her mindvoice bells hang off. Physically uninjured + wounded ego = a quick get up and a roar that's reminiscent of a lion cub trying to convince everyone around her she's angry, and not just completely embarrassed. Iolene's hands tighten and she's a sudden flurry of motion as the book in her hand drops and she's suddenly leaving Evali's side to rush to Ysa's side. "He could've /hurt/ /her/!" is hurriedly thrown over her shoulders in dismay at Sa'zl. "There, you /see/ that?" Sa'zl's complaint is hard on the heels of Iolene's -- Yggdratth is getting no sympathy from /him/ today! Cue the blue squawking out his own misery. Don't his sisters understand that he's /playing/? They're supposed to think it's /fun/! Meanwhile, Sa'zl is rushing over to fuss over the dragons, sure -- just not /his/. "Ysavaeth, Yanijath -- I'm so sorry about him -- are you okay?" And just as quickly he's turning to their riders: "Are they okay? I'm so sorry -- " And back again, to his blue. "Yggdratth, you have to /apologize/ for that!" "She is fine," Evali tells Sa'zl tiredly, "again." Evali's exhausted tone isn't entirely Sa'zl's fault, or Yggdratth's, clearly: some of the blame can be placed on Yanijath. But Yanijath is moved by Yggdratth's pathetic-sounding noises, and extracts herself from the tangle in order to squeak little petulant noises at the other dragons and then, /very/ cautiously, nose at Yggdratth. « If you apologize maybe we can have fun, » she says duitifully, because Ysavaeth is still angry (Yanijath is incapable of it) and Yggdratth is sad and none of this is any good! Her dissatisfaction with the emotional status quo is /also/ largely broadcast. Iolene's fingers work over Ysavaeth's side from the shoulder joints to the wingspars, testing, prodding, poking in an ill mimic of the dragonhealers they've had lessons from. One particular poke elicits a startled whimper from Ysavaeth and concern furrows the blonde girl's forehead. "Oh, Ysa," she breathes out, testing it again, this time more gently. Each time, it never fails, there's a reflexive noise of pain from the young dragon. "Are you ok? Are you all right? Does it hurt?" Being tended to is a salve for Ysavaeth's ego, and she's not above milking it for all it's worth, which leaves Iolene at her side, though with any large danger of injury not present, turned slightly to look up in wordless reproach at Sa'zl, wobbly big eyed and near tearful. "I think she's fine, I-," about to look around for the nearest weyrlingmaster and only spotting Leova's back as the greenrider exits, the blonde's shoulder's slump and she concludes with her age old, "She'll be fine. It's ok. Ysavaeth wants Yanijath to know that she's not angry anymore." Well, not at the green at any rate, she's certainly not about to start speaking to Yggdratth any time soon, much as that little head toss that studiously does /not/ look at the blue might indicate. Thoughts of resuming any old conversation threads are certainly no longer at the top of Iolene's 'to do' list. "You're Sa'zl, right?" Two months living together and still not on it with the names. Iolene's wobbly big eyes are only met by Sa'zl's, as he studiously ignores Yggdratth's plaintive bleating. The blue noses apologetically (well, more apologetically than not, at least, and also somewhat curiously) at his little sister's flank, and then at his big sister's flank. « Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry, » he mumbles, because that's what his rider says when /he/ does something wrong. Right? "I'm really really sorry," Sa'zl is busy telling Iolene, and nodding his big head earnestly. "I'm Sa'zl, and you're Iolene, and /you're/ Evali... right?" Because even though he tries to know everybody, he /might/ have gotten it wrong. "Do you want me to get one of the dragonhealers? Or some numbweed? I think I know where the healers keep some..." Similarly examining Yanijath takes about a second or two, as Evali is confident that the little green is perfectly fine; she tumbles constantly, after all. Ysavaeth's suffering sounds draw the midwife's attention, though, and her healing nature wins out. "Does she need anything?" she asks Iolene in a near-whisper, before being startled by Sa'zl. Who knows her name. "Yes," she tells him, not able to mask her surprise. "Evali and Yanijath." Yanijath, who is at least beginning to calm down. « You just need to be gentler! » she informs the blue with great enthusiasm. « And then it's ok. You didn't mean to hurt anyone! » Ysavaeth is still unmollified, though there might be cracks in her not so dignified, petulant little queenly manner. She'll flick a quick glance to Yggdratth who is mumbling apologies, but no more. Well, maybe one more, particularly when the blue nose comes in contact with her easily bruised hide. « I suppose you didn't /mean/ to injure us. » Is that a royal we or is she including Yanijath in the statement. Does it really matter? Ruffling her wings back, Ysavaeth deigns to stand at this point on all fours and then sits back into a squat as a forelimb reaches to bat at the air above Yggdratth's nose. Bad puppy, no biscuit. Seeing Ysa move is all the evidence Io needs to exhale and sink back onto her bottom from the crouched state she was in. It's not a genteel sprawl. "No, she'll be fine. I'm so tired. I'm so tired of being a dragonrider. I'm /so/ tired all the time," the blonde exhales in one big whining gush. "I'm Iolene. You're Sa'zl. You're Evali. And I just want to sit on a beach and go catch fish. That's all I want to do. Ever." Carefully -- gingerly -- Sa'zl drops to his heels beside Iolene, and reaches out to pat her on the shoulder. "I know a beach," he offers. It's all he /can/ offer, really; what's he supposed to say about being tired of being a dragonrider? It's not like it's something that goes away! « Promise I didn't, » Yggdratth offers meekly, after ducking his head away from Ysavaeth's pawing. "It's a river beach, but there's good fishing there." Evali crouches next to Iolene, offering an arm out for a hug. While she's not the most physical person ever, she is aware of what others find comforting, and touch isn't really a hard thing to reach out with. Yanijath is mentally giggling, shiny electric pink bubbles floating around as she expresses amusement that she is also a little bit ashamed of. Ysavaeth batting at Yggdratth's snout should not be funny, should it? But it is, and Yanijath is clearly amused by it. Evali, on the other hand, is merely surprised by the bluerider's statement. "There are rocks?" she asks. "To sit on. And wash clothing on. I might like to do that again, when we are able to leave again --" Sometimes, those pesky exiles can seem older than their years, survival putting those kinds of matured hard traits in many of them. Other times, there's too much naivety and a certain innocence, particularly when it comes to living on the mainland with its myriad of responsibilities that have absolutely nothing to do with surviving - at least not now when Thread is no longer a threat. So is it any wonder that a seventeen year old girl prefers sitting on the ground on her bottom tacitly refusing to move? Ysavaeth, having been treated to many such demonstrations is unfazed; being tired of being a dragonrider and wanting to not be with her dragon are two different things, see. Instead, she catches Yanijath's mental giggle, one of those shiny electric pink bubbles and encapsulates it into her own little rainbow soap bubble, throwing it and its good cheer into a suddenly brilliant sunlit sky she evokes into the minds of the dragons nearby. Another soap bubble, the gold's own bell-like laughter joins the electric pink one, and in this action, without words themselves, lies her forgiveness of Yggdratth, her implicit inclusion of the blue in the sisterly antics. "You do?" Dark blue eyes size Sa'zl up, up to his very height and those broad linebacker shoulders of his and considers. "You look like you might fish." Not that she, herself, looks anything like a fisherman now. "Is it close by? Can we go tomorrow?" More of those big head-bobbing nods from Sa'zl. "It's close," he promises, ignoring Yggdratth's happy chirping of joy at his sister's forgiveness. "I don't know if it's close /enough/ we could go tomorrow, but maybe we could -- I can ask! -- I started going there when I was just a kid, just ten, and I don't know that we /can't/ go, at least!" Surely it's better to beg forgiveness than ask permission. And the dragons /are/ getting older... "I will come along," Evali contributes to the discussion, sounding /almost/ hopeful, almost curious, but not quite -- it doesn't quite yet touch on sociable. Merely a touch above her usual soft almost-monotone. "If you like. Though I was never very good at fishing, I merely watched. And did the washing." Yanijath has no idea what fishing is, really; she is distracted by what Ysavaeth has done with her bubbles, and mystified by it. « Ooooo, how did you do /that/? I can make more so you can play with them too! » From those words, sparkling glittery tiny bubbles in the thousands burst forth, in other bright shades of blue and green and pink and yellow. "I'd-," Iolene considers, head tilting and her limbs gathering inward again. "I'd like that." It doesn't take much to cheer the girl up, and the idea of leaving, of going /somewhere/ other than the Weyr brings hope to her delicately thin features. "Let's go." It's decided. Narcoleptic Ysavaeth is, now, fast asleep and can no longer comment, but even in sleep, those little soap bubbles rise into the air, a mental manifestation of the snores that exhale out her nostrils. "I have to go get ready for my class now. I haven't finished the homework yet." The face Io makes is similar to the one she made earlier when whining about being a dragonrider, albeit muted and with reluctance, the girl gets to her feet and gathers up her book again. "See you later?" "Of course!" Head a-bobbing, Sa'zl bounces up to his feet, trips, and lands with actual grace and a stumble against Yggdratth. Serves the little blue right, really -- a snort, sending those bubbles flying across the way, and a shake of Yggdratth's head, and he's back to being settled. "I'll let you know as soon as I know," Sa'zl promises. "D'you have a rod? Or -- well, however you like fishing, I'm sure we can make it work!" Evali looks completely horrified, as Iolene speaks. Well, she looks as completely horrified as Evali ever does unless it is extremely serious, which is really just wide eyes and a slightly opened mouth. "There -- was homework? Oh dear. I think I have a problem." She looks over at Yanijath again, but alas the green is not on her side and seems /pleased/ that Evali forgot about something completely. As if her teachings are having some effect. But the idea of sleep seems good to her, and so she worms her way comfortably into a space that is equidistant between Yggdratth and Ysavaeth and slips into unconscious mode. "I should probably come do it with you --" She lowers her voice to a whisper in Iolene's ear, and asks, "Why would one fish with a rod?" |
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