Logs:A Bit Warmer
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| RL Date: 17 February, 2014 |
| Who: Klohi, A'rist |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: A'rist tries to convince Klohi to actually take part in senior weyrlinghood. |
| Where: Eastern Bowl, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 10, Month 1, Turn 34 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: A blanket of cold, dense fog fills the bowl with its oppressive presence and obscures vision. |
| Mentions: Miravea/Mentions |
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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 rest of the weyr might choose be covered in drab, gray fog, but Klohi has never been one to conform. She cuts through the wet mist in a bright blue jacket, fashionable layers worn over each other so that she can manage a long skirt in this weather, even if there are long pants underneath. All are clearly from the stores, from where she seems to have emerged with her arms full of fabric and another large pillow to add to the excess in her weyr-- not that anyone needs to know about that. The fog around her is disturbed, clouds thrown up by Quinzeth's graceful leaps, doing her best to disturb the air around her into swirling, chaotic patterns. Wee! "I think you're a little late to start storing up for winter." A'rist, out of nowhere. Maybe he was following her. Maybe he just spotted her. Either way, once Klohi's properly into the bowl, there the bronzerider is, out of the mists, a little hop to bring him up alongside the greenrider, an easy smile awarded to the her as he matches her stride. Lythronath is nowhere to be seen, no swirls of fog to give him away, nothing but the low, taunting, « I see... » Klohi gives enough of a start that her pink gloves have to scramble to tighten the grip on the pile she's carrying. Aiming a little glare at A'rist, it'll fade as she begins walking again, "It's always winter here." Is her argument, only a touch bitter as she picks her way through the bowl. His smile is met with a wary, if curious glance, lips parting before they close and she sets her sights forward, looking determined. Quinzeth isn't unnerved at being seen, only now her graceful leaps have much more of a flourish, head held high as she shows off. « Lucky you! » The fog shields those fleeting moments her paws touch the ground, awkward youth having melted away in the last months to reveal the acrobatic green who frolics-- without tripping over her own legs, even! « Ha. » Not convinced, maybe... And then, deadly quiet, with no sign of the bronze at all. "Only if you let it be," A'rist is telling Klohi, shrugging, and linking gloved hands into his belt, after a brief fumbling with the bottom of his jacket. "Just got to appreciate when it's a bit warmer. Remember how cold it was before, and it seems really nice, suddenly." He shrugs again, and then kicks a little, as if it might stir up the fog all the more. It doesn't, really. "There's not even any sun. How is that nice?" Klohi scoffs, aiming a glare up at the sky and its thick clouds, "When it's warm enough to wear my swimsuit, then we'll talk." The greenrider turns towards him, looking to shove her armful at him, "If you're gonna bug me, you can at least make yourself useful." If Quinzeth is worried about being prey, she doesn't show it in her easy leaps through the mist. With a particularly powerful spring, her wings tuck in and she's able to give a little roll in midair before landing with a smug, « Ta-da! » It's in that moment she falls still, neck curled just right, head high and even one leg lifted in her triumphant pose. "Promise?" is quick off the young bronzerider's tongue, and he's smiling again. A'rist wrestles that armful under control, and once he's sure he's not going to drop it (at least, not unless it's on purpose), regulates his stride again. "So we're going to try do some extra drills tonight..." From Lythronath, no answer to Quinzeth's pose, no words, no view of metallic hide. There is a hint of wind from above, but can anyone really tell if it's related to comet-blazed wings? Visibly startled, Klohi can't help but blurt, "I don't think Miravea would like you talking to other girls like that." It's less of a threat than some have been, the bluerider's name acting as more of a shield. With her arms free, she's free to tug her jacket until it's sitting just right, adjusting each finger on her colorful gloves. With mild disinterest, "Good for you." Quinzeth can only wait for so long, which isn't long at all, before she's thrown back into motion. « Man, since you started chasin' dames you're no fun! » Not that she can remember any of their antics as dragonets, exactly. No longer intrested in showing off for such an ungrateful audience, the green returns to entertaining herself. A'rist makes a face. "I don't think you've talked to her recently." Awkward, and all the more reason for him to barge forward with, "You should come. It's fun, flying in the fog," that draft of wind is a bit stronger this time, although Lythronath still doesn't really answer her. "And there's going to be an after-party later. L'sen's hosting." He shifts the fabric and pillow in his arms, the better to peer at her, quite intent. On this topic. There's a spark in dark eyes, one A'rist should be familiar with as the predator suddenly senses her prey-- juicy gossip. "Oh?" A sweet, inquisitve note, "Everyone was wondering if you two would weyrmate after graduation." Perhaps an exaggeration, but not in some circles. His suggestion is met with a lift of unamused brows, lips unable to flatten but they do manage to twist up, "Why would I do that? Flying around in the cold and then... what?" Another scoff, "Your little parties have been going on just fine without me." As short as she is, it's a bit hard to stick her nose up in the air, though she tries. Quinzeth pauses, slowing to a trot as her blue eyes settle on the two weyrlings, curiosity dancing in her faceted gaze. "Yeah, well, guess we're not going to." Some of that teen angst has crept in, but he brushes it off, brushes the whole subject off, if she'll let him (yeah, sure). "So look," trying to get most of the bundle into one arm, farthest from Klohi, so he can look at her the more easily, "all I'm saying is, the party will be warm. Maybe not swimsuit warm, but it'd be a lot better than sitting alone in a weyr..." He might try convince her, as they go. And Lythronath... well, he's got plans for cutting off Quinzeth, just as soon as the time is right. This will not be the end. Klohi is far from convinced, and it may be her endless prodding for details about A'rist's once-relationship that eventually chase the bronzerider off. Quinzeth will take Lythronath's games in good spirit, and possibly goad him into more if his rider allows it. The game is interrupted when Klohi needs to get up onto their ledge, taking her spoils to enjoy an evening of sitting alone in her weyr. |
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