Logs:Playing In The Rain
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| RL Date: 25 March, 2013 |
| Who: N'hax, Sabella |
| Type: Log |
| What: Sabella is getting soaked, N'hax and his bronze are enjoying the inclement weather. |
| Where: East Bowl, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 3, Month 5, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Heavy Rain |
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| Eastern Bowl, High Reaches Weyr Ringed by rough granite walls to all sides but one, this end of the huge bowl narrows from the even broader plain to the west, continuing the ever so slight downward slope toward the blue and green of the Weyr's lake and surrounding foliage. More open to sun and wind than the western bowl, but less frequented when there aren't weyrlings in residence, the bowl's grassy tufts keep the topsoil in place and thicken into a bloodstained meadow within the feeding pens that adjoin the lake. At the base of the surrounding cliffs lie entrances to several caverns, including the dragon infirmary and the weyrling barracks: the former to the northwest near where the spires begin, the latter opposite to the southwest. Both archways are large and dark enough for any dragon to pass through, but it's the infirmary's that is haunted by faint smells of redwort and numbweed, as though over generations they have seeped into the very stone. To the southeast, between the weyrling area and the lake, there are a handful of structures built into the floor of the bowl, standing out amidst otherwise an empty space.
This place has the worst weather ever. When it's not a blizzard in the winter it's driving rain in the spring. But that's what umbrellas are for, so. It's past lunch and Sabella is picking her way across the slippery bowl with care. Her minimal protection from the weather shielding her from some of the worst of it, but she's more or less getting soaked to the bone out here. Her shortened curls are damp and frizzed from all the moisture in the air. One hand is wrapped around the handle and the other is holding her jacket tight around her. Ghislaith is no where to be seen, so this is likely a solo outing on her part. To each their own. Jhorinth has N'hax out here in the oldest pair of breeches the man possesses, shirtless in the rain, with thankfully waterproof-looking boots that are covered in mud. What are they doing? They are running through the slog and the rain, and Jhorinth seems explicitly happy about it. Also, tired. The bronzelet careens westerly of N'hax's regimented marching run, precariously close to Sabella-- ends up doing a weird version of a draconic barrel-spin like a runner, ending up next to her facing his lifemate. N'hax, huffing with effort from the run, pulls up and leans palms on knees, halfway to breath and halfway because he can't breath -- he's laughing too hard. "That's--" between helpless snorts, and what sounds like he's drowning in the rain, "--what" -- cough, hack, "--you get!" That precarious run and sudden turn has Sabella squeaking and stepping away, to each their own indeed. N'hax and Jhorinth are so quickly in her space or directly in her path back to the barracks, that she has to stop. The umbrella hand draws the thing down closer to her head, but she tilts it so she can get a better look at the other weyrling and his partner through the downpour. The drowning in the rain coughing and hacking is met with an arched eyebrow and amused lift to the corners of her mouth. "It is? He's not the one hacking up a lung here." Pause and then, "Are you going to die?" Jhorinth moves a little closer to Sabella, mostly to try to angle his head under the scant protection of her umbrella. If that JUST SO HAPPENS to make his headknobs jostle into the front of her chest, maybe he just wants a more tactile impression to adequately judge her ability to win a wet t-shirt contest. N'hax is oblivious to everything, 'cause he's trying not to lose a lung. "I--" He blinks a time or fourteen, bleary-eyed from the rain, upwards. "I think I'm going to be okay." Even if water has TOTALLY infiltrated his "water-tight boots". Wet socks. Ugh. Sabella is almost distracted from noticing Jhorinth, not by anything in particular. Not by N'hax shirtless and wet in the rain or something crazy like that, no, no. Don't be silly. But her attention is pulled away from what she's absolutely not staring a little blatently at by the jostle of a dragon's headknobs on her chest. Her breath hitches abruptly and she looks down, firmly putting her hand onto the top of his handsome bronze head and pushing it away. Down boy. "Are you sure?" She checks, glancing him over and down to those boots. And then of course to her totally drenched self, clothes clinging everywhere. "Do you need to lean on me for support as you stagger back on that way?" She asks teasingly, tilting her head in the direction she's heading. Jhorinth didn't MEAN to! It just happened. He looks up with an expression more like an abashed puppy than a dragon, aw-shucks. Ignore the suddenly wheezing sounds that N'hax is making again. (And the human part of all this doesn't even apologize -- how rude!) He does finally straighten, swiping at his eyes with a hand and then using the same to shade his brow and eyes from further impingment of rainfall. Dumb rain. "I'm good." Teasing: "Wouldn't want the weyrlingmasters to get the wrong idea." Jhorinth's attention goes back and forth, a hilariously visual representation of 'what wrong idea?'. With only slight exasperation, N'hax's fingers flicker, and Jhorinth turns away from Sabella (reluctantly), to return back to his lifemate. He remains watchful, nonetheless. "Why are you out here in the rain, anyhow?" Muddy-rainy N'hax at least has a PURPOSE for his, uh, chafing. As long as the bronze doesn't press too closely like that again, she's not likely to make a verbal demand for an apology from his rider anyway. Sabs draws her eyebrows together, watching him as he launches into another round of coughing. There's an expression of concern that crosses her features and she moves up to him, stretching to hold the umbrella over his head. Which is all well and good, but not doing much for her really. "The wrong idea? Were you planning on slipping your hand up my shirt as I escorted you back?" Her smile curves up with the return tease and she flickers a gaze towards Jhorinth. Just in case he's starting to figure out what the idea could be. With a glance around for the rain, "I had to eat lunch. It wasn't going to bring itself to me." N'hax has a brief - okay, not so brief - grin for Sabella and her valiant efforts with the umbrella. "Can't you tell that I'm already soaked?" is half-teasing, his mood obviously jocular -- /someone/ is well pleased, with.... something. That grin only broadens with her question; "Well, a gentleman doesn't plan these things, they just kind of happen." Jhorinth comes in to headbutt his face against the small of N'hax's back, because he's kind of a douche, and Hax turns to eye over one shoulder with a particularly arch expression. "I think he's telling me it's time to go in. Before they accuse me of trying to give him wing-rot, or some mess." He doesn't mention lunch, though Sabs may hear his stomach rumble, even over the sound of the rain. Sabs purses her lips together and she flickers her gaze over him, one slender shoulder lifted and dropped as she eventually smiles. "I can tell. But you were having a hard time being able to see, so I thought you might like some relief." She mimics the way he had his hand to his brow before to demonstrate. At the mention of returning inside, she gives up on trying to hold that umbrella over his head. He's much to tall for that to work out well in the long run, so she resumes sheltering herself. "Of course. I'd forgotten all about the gentleman's code of casual woman touching. My apologies for the presumption that you'd plan to do such a thing." She glances at him as they begin to walk, casting a quick impish grin his way for it. He falls along in line with her, walking in the rain without a great deal of issues about the whole thing: a wry flash of teeth for the impish grin there at the end. Jhorinth lingers just a pace behind, the better to scope out the surroundings as they go. "I don't think I'll be letting him talk me into this again," -- the whole running in the rain issue, possibly. He's pretty random right now. Fruitloops for running in the rain to begin with, no doubt. To pick up a strain of previous discussion- "I'll be sure to write it down for you, as it comes to me. The gentleman's code, that is. So that you'll have it for future reference." The rain has addlepated his brain! They're not so far from the barracks already as it is. "No?" Sabella questions back. With a sigh and wistfulness that's likely meant to be much more dramatic than it needs to be, "That's a shame. Who else are the girls going to watch run around shirtless in the rain? We need our entertainment." He's the recipient of another one of her sly, quick smiles as they arrive to the doors that lead them towards the dry environment inside. Teasingly while she pulls one of them open, "You do that. I'll keep it all folded up and tucked neatly into one of my pockets for handy reference during my day." "Oh, I'm sure you'll find someone," N'hax returns, expression far too irrascible for either of them's well-being. He sketches a curtsy - not a bow, definitely a CURTSY, replete with pulling out an imaginary skirt - to Sabs before ducking inside, Jhorinth slithering in after him with a smooth rhythm to the cadence of his stride. They're heading off into one of the side-nooks almost immediately, to dry off and get themselves in order, but N'hax calls out after Sabella as they head off: "I'll be sure to get that to you. I know how important references are." A teasing grin, and then the bronzepair are disappearing around a curve. Out of side -- out of mind? Perhaps. |
Comments
Azaylia (Dragonshy (talk)) left a comment on Tue, 26 Mar 2013 23:00:21 GMT.
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Ha! This was cute. X3 And definitely funny. I think everyone should have a reference for the gentleman's code of casual woman touching. :l
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