Logs:To Drown Or Not To Drown
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| RL Date: 1 March, 2015 |
| Who: Edyis, Ulyana |
| Type: Log |
| What: Edyis meets Ulyana, and Qhyluth |
| Where: Eastern Bowl, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 21, Month 2, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Winter Morning |
| OOC Notes: As usual feel free to edit/add/remove/change anything I may have missed. As I was posting, I realized that I as a player made mistake looking at dragon length and mistook shoulder for full length. |
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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.
The snowfall is light and intermittent throughout the day until it tapers
off completely into a frigid night. The ground is damp, though very little
sticks. It's a snowy, gray sort of morning - just perfect for one peculiar pair to arrive. The descent of a darkling shape from the skies ends in a flurry of desperate movement as the rider cannot seem to get to the ground fast enough. Qhyluth is ever-mindful in his strange way; his wings drop to curve around his rider while she suffers the discomfort of flight. His ink-dark straps are laden with four large, sturdy bags - and naught else. For now, the blue is little more than a statue, watchful and still, with only a tinge of distress caught in the blue-green of his gaze. Amid the drifting flurries, life goes on much as it always has in Reaches. Still the arrival of an unfamiliar dragon is bound to attract some attention, or at least in Edyis's case nosey onlookers. "You ok?" The former scribe pulling the thickly knit layers more tightly about her as cautiously she makes her way over, eyeing the blue. The approach of the unfamiliar is met with a thick gurgling from the blue. His posture stiffens further and his eyes, now an intense and sickly green-yellow, lock onto the other female. Qhyluth's tail curls around as if to further defend his rider, but there is no need. From behind the wing comes a flat, but somewhat strained, "I will live." Ulyana's gloved hand slides out to grab one of the bags on the blue's lower strap, but she can't quite reach it from that angle. "If it is not an inconvenience, would you please get that bag and hand it to me?" Dark eyes fixate on the blue, but the question is rewarded with a careful approach. Long and nimble fingers free the bag, holding it out to the rider. "That will be more difficult when he gets bigger." The older teen points out, stepping clear of the blue. "I do not think he will get much larger," is Ulyana's flatly issued determination. "I will not permit it." The bag is taken and opened within the shelter of that wing. Qhyluth's hunkered posture lingers only long enough for that exchange and for his rider to do what she intends to do. Only then do his wings fold to his back and his stance shifts to a properly upright and seated position. Still, his eyes remain strange and sickly in their hue. Those eyes do not move from Edyis. "Thank you," is Ulyana's offering, if belated. A water skin is in one hand, the bag in the other. She takes another pull from the former before putting it into the latter. Something in the flatness of the rider's tone, inexplicably brings Edyis to laughter. "I believe you would try your best, but judging from the look of him maybe another few feet at least?" Dark eyes flicking over the blue in mixed fear and fascination. "Or he could simply stop and be a runt. Which clutch is he from?"
"Qhyluth." Lips work the sounds, playing with the lilt and tone of the word, "And Ulyana, of Fort then?" As though committing to memory. "Ah, he is out of that clutch." Another instinctive step back, though not so far as to be unable to converse. "You might be right then, let us hope that whatever plagued Benden and Fort's clutches will not visit Reaches." She murmurs, speculatively. "What brings you to High Reaches?" "I was born at Crom Hold," is offered as further clarification. "I was searched for Eliyaveith's clutch." Ulyana's mouth twists briefly before flattening out. "I should have suspected that Fort would have been an ill fit after that." The blue shifts his posture slightly for the sake of comfort, settling back on his haunches and resting his forepaws on his knees. His neck curves, just so, to allow a better viewing of Edyis - though it seems to sink his eyes deeper into shadow. A low, thick gurgling resonates in his chest - a sound that emerges only after the other woman takes a step back. Is he leaning forward now? Difficult to tell. Ulyana continues, indifferent to this peculiar change: "The Healers feel the climate here will be better-suited to my condition." Edyis studies the smaller woman more carefully at her words, and each movement of the blue is regarded cautiously. "I am not sure you will find Reaches to be a better fit, but I hope it does help with your health." Her mouth worries over the last word. "Usually if there are physical ailments, it would deter the search riders, is your condition something that developed after you impressed?" More curious than accusatory, her tone even and the words soft. A singular, mechanical shake of her head is issued. Ulyana intones: "They determined that my overall state of health was marginally acceptable. They were aware that I would get sick while flying. At the time, they felt that Impression would alleviate the issue." A beat. Two. Then: "They were incorrect." Another thick sound bubbles up from the blue, but his distress has since dissolved to render his eyes an unsettling and placid hue of blue. "My Search was anything but orthodox," is further clarification, but without any inflection to suggest her thoughts on the matter. As to whether the 'Reaches might be a better fit, there is nothing to say. They're here; that says enough. Edyis furrows her brows, perhaps considering all the implications of those words. "I'm sure he is content with you regardless." Nodding to the blue, before gloved hands get tucked deep into the pockets of her borrowed flight jacket. "So if you cannot fly without becoming sick, what did they have you doing to keep useful?" She murmurs shifting her weight perceptibly and kicking the snow loose from one boot. The beast does lean in, just a little; it's subtle, that creep, but it's there all the same for the perceptive to detect. As for Ulyana, there is little more to say. One shoulder rises and falls in a lopsided shrug. "I have only just graduated from weyrlinghood. The Healers and I felt it prudent to transfer before I was assigned to a wing." A moment passes. A single, slow blink ensues. Then: "I am not sure what the Weyrleader will have me do as yet. I suspect we will be on watch duty. Qhyluth can do elevator duty without me," though the strange, wet rumble he gives at the thought speaks plainly of his displeasure at the thought. "I can serve in the records room." A pause. "What do you do here?" She winces, perhaps at the thought of Qhyluth on elevator duty, or something else entirely. "I used to work in the records room, Master Jeroman is eccentric but a good man." That creep is regarded with the slightest shift of her weight back. "I work in the Riders' Lounge these days. By choice not by vote of incompetence." She tacks on the last. "Eggs will be on the sands soon, I'm sure there will be all kinds of things that need doing on the ground with it, especially since it's a foreign queen clutching on Reachian soil." "I see," says she, while her blue shadow lengthens. Qhyluth's neck stretches just a touch, drawing him inexorably closer. By inches, maybe, but they are terribly long inches. "Where is that?" Ulyana queries. "The Rider's Lounge, I mean. I am not familiar with the layout of High Reaches as yet." There's a shallow, singular nod of her head - up, down, center - for the explanation, both of Edyis's duty transfer and of the eventual eggs. "I am certain there will be plenty of work, regardless. I can only do my best to be useful. He will do likewise." Edyis shifts her chin upward, indicating the general direction of the weyr turned bar. "Why 'Reaches particularly though? I mean most folk recovering from illness would have opted for Southern, or some place with warmer weather." That insidious creep, however... "I am actually on my way to the Living Cavern for breakfast, if you wanted to join you are welcome." Oh, and that creeping will continue, but only in those moments when no eyes rest on him. Qhyluth has started to uncoil from his odd crouch, only to freeze in mid-movement when Ulyana cuts a glance his way. "Stop." That word falls like a heavy coin, one so heavy that it draws a despairing hiss from the beast. To Edyis: "I cannot be sure. I imagine the coolness and thinner air are supposed to be of some benefit." One shoulder lifts and drops. "I would do poorly in warmer weather, regardless. This is much more tolerable." The mention of breakfast elicits a lengthy pause and an eventual, "I should get something to drink. I will go with you." It would be difficult to miss the unspoken appreciation in the barkeep's gaze, as that command is given the blue. Purposeful strides bear her toward the western end of the bowl, in the direction of the cavern. "Your blue, he's - kind of unsettling." She chooses at last. They are not alone. As the shorter woman hastens to keep up, the blue persists in following - from a distance, of course. His motions are slow and serpentine and strange, but Ulyana doesn't look back and he doesn't overstep his boundaries, such as they are. With the distance, conversation is easier to manage. "That is a perception that I will not disagree with," she responds blandly. There is a sidelong look to Edyis, then: "He is particular in his mannerisms. I am no different." Edyis seems acutely aware of the fact that he follows, every so often darting a furtive glance to assure herself of that distance. "A person is not their dragon, at least that seems to be what my limited experience has taught me." She studies the smaller woman thoughtfully. "You regret it then? Impression?" "I have my tower. He has his ocean. That is enough." Ulyana's gaze remains fixed forward now, one gloved hand resting on her bag's strap, the other folded across her midsection. "I cannot regret something that was, ultimately, not my final decision to make. I chose to Stand out of obligation. He chose me for reasons that I still cannot interpret. I wonder more if he regrets his choice - but we do not speak the same language well enough to communicate." Edyis smiles, and it is genuine, with a certain warmth in it. "Obligation haunts us all I think, but I know enough riders who struggled at first who managed to figure it out in the end. What language does he speak then?" Steping through the cavern doors and bee lines straight for the klah pot. "There is only drowning - and not drowning. I do not intend to drown." Ulyana does stop just outside the cavern, but only to make quick work of the bags on Qhyluth's straps. The parcels are heaped at his forepaws like offerings and he coils around them without a sound. Ulyana continues when she's inside: "He used words briefly. They are of no use to him now. What he tries to articulate is too complex. Too..." she falters, brow furrowing. "Overwhelming. Emotional. Potent." She trails after Edyis, but her beverage of choice is water. "There are symbols. Sounds. Strange murmurings across the water. Often, there is nothing." A tilt of her head and a question follow: "What obligations haunt you?" Edyis listens intently when she speaks of things words do not encapsulate so easily as though trying to imagine such a voice. "Not so many of them as there once were." She comments of obligation. "I still stand once in a while, though it has become more of a habit than a desire to have wings and spew fire from the skies. Didn't think I would though, after Aishani - " "Why would you stand if it is not an obligation or a desire?" Confusion is a rare thing for Ulyana, but it's plain enough now. "What purpose does it serve?" There's a beat. A lengthier pause. And, eventually, "Elaborate, please. That is not a situation I am very aware of." She takes a lengthy draw of her water - and waits. Edyis considers the question trying to explain. "I think of it more as an exercise in what if. I used to think it was something expected of me, since I originally came here under search, since hatchlings do die if they do not find a suitable counterpart on the sands. I suppose that qualifies as an obligation, but I've never been able to find the courage to face one of Hraedhyth's clutches." "It is my understanding that they will choose from what is offered well before they die." Ulyana intones, "Even the deformed bronze found it in him to Impress before he died. It would have been easier for him simply to die in the shell." She finishes her water and listens, with silence spinning out long after it should have been filled on her end. Eventually: "Perhaps that is the one what if that you should explore." Her attention slides away from the barkeep and toward the entrance of the cavern. "I must go." Edyis nods. "It was interesting meeting you Ulyana, rider of blue Qhyluth. May you find respite here in High Reaches." There is just one of those mechanical nods and a flat, "Take care." Ulyana departs to tend to the blue that's threatening to find some way to sneak his way in. Trouble, indeed. |
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