Logs:Aggressive
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| RL Date: 27 December, 2012 |
| Who: Jo, Azaylia, H'kon |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: While Hraedhyth and Tacuseth wrestle, Arekoth eats, and the riders' conversation almost turns into a confrontation. |
| Where: Feeding Grounds, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 19, Month 8, Turn 30 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Warm sunshine and cloudless skies make for a beautiful day and pleasantly warm evening. A breeze tempers the heat with no humidity lingering in the air. |
| Mentions: I'kris/Mentions, Taikrin/Mentions, Madilla/Mentions |
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| Feeding Grounds, High Reaches Weyr Wedged between the lake and the rest of the vast bowl are the dusty feeding grounds. Here, the well-trampled ground is contained by a sturdy wooden fence, cutting right through one end of the lake to section it off into a muddy watering hole for the animals. Several gates allow people in and out, while at the back, large overhangs of rock provide the herd -- a mixed bag of herdbeasts, wing-clipped wherries, and fat porcines -- shelter from storms or the hot sun. What grass survives is usually bloodstained, but feeding troughs are stationed around the edges of the pen. It's a busy afternoon. The feeding grounds were a busy mass of dragons, and their riders - the sounds of the hunt - and the chatter of said riders watching off to the side. With sweeps done for the day, the convict blue rider herself was in usual attendance, set apart from the riders with their companionable chatter while she leans casually against the fence. She watches her proud, brassy blue spear another kill on the grounds before her as she slices off a piece of juicy flesh from the red fruit she holds with one wicked-looking knife. All in black leather, her hair looking semi-damp, Jo seems to have the air of 'approach me...if you dare', written all over her. Hraedhyth has been present for some time, joining her kin in their hunt and the feasting afterwards. Even as she slows, her hunger tapering off, she stays. The crunching of bone and slurping of marrow is interrupted from time to time as she bellows her fury at one dragon or the next. The reason for her ire? Cruelty before killing- playing games. Perhaps it's worth a draconic complaint as a way of summoning the goldrider, still dressed in her riding leathers. Azaylia is one to go on sweeps, when her schedule allows it. She stops next to Jo though doesn't acknowledge her just yet, climbing the fence enough to get a clear look at the bone chomping gold. "Has she been bothering them long?" A question for Jo, oblivious of that warning air, and concerned for the other dragons. Tacuseth is -all- about the play. With Hraedhyth's size and importance, the blue does cower away - albeit with reluctance as he shakes his head. His wings unfurl, perhaps to show his masculinity - though one can be certain a queen wouldn't be all that impressed with a blue's wingspan when her own dwarfs overall. Jo snorts at the exchange of the dragons before her. She crunches on a slice of red fruit like she was those dragons, cracking bones. She doesn't seem to note the goldrider's approach, her dark gaze having remained on her blue beast before the question and its proximity to her wakens her attentions. Her jaw working as she chews, "Just showin' who's the boss, boss," is her hazy, deep drawl, muffled slightly by the fact that she was chewing. "Tac likes to pretend that he could stand up to a queen sometimes." Factual. No note of pride nor embarrassment. Azaylia frets less at Jo's answer, if only because her wingmate doesn't seem too perturbed. She climbs down some, though stays mostly on the fence to continue peering at the dragons, "I don't like to see the animals suffer either..." The 'but' is unspoken as she bites her lower lip. Hraedhyth stops her crunching, head lifting to watch Tacuseth with the faintest tilt. There's a solid crunch of her jaws followed by a snortwhuffle of air in the blue's direction. The queen's amusement isn't easily placed, but it's there. "He hasn't gotten caught up in any of her games?" Azaylia asks, finally dropping down onto the ground and dusting her hands off on her pants. "Hraedhyth wrestles with blues, from time to time." Not for her dragon's lack of trying- but some dragons are understandably put off by the gold's bulk. "We all suffer, sooner or later. In a manner of ways," comes from Jo, that knife making quick work of slicing through another piece of the fruit. Dark eyes flick over towards her wingmate as if she were briefly checking her out. Perhaps to unnerve. Perhaps because that's always been her way. Tacuseth seems to be drawn into any game put before him as he bites into the neck of his current kill. Wings stay unfurled and his tail swings back and forth: a challenge, perhaps? "I think he's foolish enough to try," the convict rider answers on getting caught up with a pale of amusement in her tone. "He enjoys a good game." Pause. "Blues, in particular?" She wants to remain silent, but curiosity wins in her reluctant questioning. "Because she knows they can't win her?" Azaylia is a bit more hesitant now that she's seen that her earlier alarm wasn't necessary. "M-maybe... I still don't like seeing the dragons act so cruel. They're better than that." Words trail off into a quiet mumble as she looks towards Jo, realizing just how unfamiliar she is with this particular wingmate. "All colors, actually. Greens, blues... the rest." Save for queens, if only because Iesaryth isn't the wrestling type. "I bet if any could beat her, she'd be more impressed than angry." She gives a soft laugh that is only encouraged by Hraedhyth's sudden lunge towards Tacuseth. The gold snapsnaps oversized teeth far too close to him before leaping out of the pens and into a bit of bowl that's not so populated. There she bellows her challenge at the blue, oversized jaws bloodied and bared, though her drums are thumping with delight. In this cool afternoon, the dragons are out and the riders are to the side in easy conversation. Jo and the weyrwoman, Azaylia, are set apart from the others - the convict rider decked in her black leathers, eating a red fruit with a wicked-looking knife and the goldrider next to her watching the play between her queen and Jo's blue. Jo raises a brow Azaylia's way for the first. "Are they?" she puts to the weyrwoman, a glint of amusement - or something mischievous - in her piercing gaze. Looking back to her fruit handiwork, sliding a cut piece into her mouth directly from the wicked knife, "Some would say the same about us." There's a faint lift of the corner of her mouth in something close to a smile at the spoken antics of the queen, shaking her head. "I think it's healthy to be aggressive," she notes, and, there's a linger pause before she tacks on, "In a dragon, especially, darlin'." On the grounds, Tacuseth nearly misses that sudden lunges. Nearly. He seems to let himself get bowled over, keeping firm hold of his kill and snapping his head away from those sudden jaws before she's gone. Oh well...the blue's clearly in a quandary as he swings his head from his kill to the obvious challenge, before Tacuseth dips his head to tear at the flesh and begin to eat. Oh yes, he is eating quickly, his eye remaining on Hraedhyth. Arekoth couldn't have heard that bit about being healthy, surely. But aggressive? He's got that. A piercing attention-grabbing (or what might, from another perspective, simply be a sharply irritating) cry announces his arrival as he swoops down from the ledge. It does what it's meant to (apart from draw gazes), and sends a flock of wherries scrabbling for flight. Koth waits until he can find the one that gets highest, and makes a dive to snatch that one, a long-practiced move. H'kon's walk is also long-practiced, though hardly comes with any sort of fanfare; he comes by foot eventually. Once his dragon has seized his quarry between wicked talons. It seems as though Hraedhyth has gone from bossing all the other feeding dragons around to just setting her sights on blue Tacuseth. All worked up she's not yet frothing, though strings of drool begin to drop from her bared fangs, tail excitedly swiping atop the bowl floor. She can wait for him to finish. "Oh, I hope he doesn't give himself thicktail..." Azaylia's concern is for Jo's blue, fingers back to gripping the fence. She's in her riding leathers now, just off from one of those rare sweeps of hers, "I think so. Dragons can be so... different from their riders. For the better." Her gaze is lost for a moment, likely thinking back to one brown in particular. It's Arekoth's piercing shriek that snaps her out of it, a frightened squeak leaving the goldrider as she watches him with wide eyes. "...Taikrin said something like that, before." About it being healthy for dragons to be aggressive, queens especially. Tacuseth notices the bold arrival of Arekoth, but he's focused on finishing up his kill before any other dragon moves on it. While his gaze is firmly trapped on Hraedhyth, Azaylia's comment on the blue draws a short burst of laughter. "Serves him right if he does," Jo comments with some dryness, shaking her head. At the next, "Not all," she says on dragons being different, chewing absently. "Kaitlin and M'ron's seem to act the same as them. Tac's not so different. He's never had a problem with who I am." Of course, she speaks of the other convict riders that went through weyrlinghood with her - and, perhaps the bond between her and the blue had another layer of meaning. The girl and the blue is still missing from the Weyr more often than not these days. She takes in Arekoth's arrival until that familiar name gets a sharp look towards the weyrwoman. "Did she, now." It's a statement, not a question. Then, Tacuseth drops the cleaned carcass and is leaping over towards the little pen area where the queen waits with a suddenness - wings out as if preparing to launch right at the bigger dragon. Arekoth does not dally on the ground with his kill, winging, instead, for a little jutting ledge on that overhang above the herd. H'kon, for his part, has heard Azaylia's squeak, and that might better be blamed for the paused moment of bracing before he draws in nearer, squishing his face into an attempt at a smile, and nodding gruffly to go along with it. He stops outside the general circle of conversation, such as it is. And just stands - awkwardly - trying not to stare. Azaylia watches Arekoth now, though her words are for Jo. "You probably haven't done anything really..." A breath, "Reallyreally bad. Like... I'kris bad." It feels odd to say his name, but the young woman means to be understood. "I think Hraedhyth's better than me, at least." The small smile is strained, but genuine. "Even if other people don't think so." Brown eyes shift to the bluerider and she gives a little nod for what Taikrin has said. It's now that she notices H'kon, one hand remaining on the fence as she turns, "Afternoon, H'kon." She tries to keep her own smile from turning into a grin, clearing her throat, "How are you? This is my wingmate, Jo." Hraedhyth has been tensed and ready for some time, and when the blue finally charges she gives a pleased snarl. Meeting him head on, she'll try and knock Tacuseth over with her wide chest or shoulder. Though she wrestles with vicious glee, her teeth and claws never really aim to pierce his hide. At least, not on purpose. Tacuseth turns his head towards Arekoth in that quick instant that Hraedhyth launches at him. With a draconic grunt, he's going down in a tangle of wings and teeth, but the rowdy blue isn't a pushover! Bold, he wrestles wildly with the large queen like a firelizard battling a wherry - not seeming to care at all if his already-scarred hide gets nicked more in the tussle. In turn, he doesn't try to mar the golden hide of the queen, always angling close but no contact. At least, for now. Jo watches it all with thinned lips, and in immediate response to Azaylia's first - not looking her way - "No. I haven't killed a weyrwoman." There's something odd in the way she says it. It's in the wording, and it's as if in the wording, she's being very deliberate or literal. She latches on the next - the talk of dragons - and when Azaylia speaks about her queen, "Do you want to be aggressive?" At that moment, her gaze seems pointed towards the ongoing tussle between blue and gold. But then, H'kon arrives, and like any that approaches her, she's taking him in with open scrutiny as she balances her knife against what's left of the red fruit in her hands. She grunts her greeting to him, a return nod as her study between him and Azaylia lingers. "Weyrwoman," H'kon greets, a deeper, more formal nod finding an expression to suit it - and one that looks much easier than that attempted facial pleasantry just moments earlier. Green eyes are soon turned on Jo, to whom he lifts his chin ever so slightly, otherwise not much acknowledging that inspection of hers. Nor the knife that plays in his periphery. "You were the one with Leova, then." The exact context is left to interpretation, and he turns back to Azaylia. "I'm well enough. I trust you and Hraedhyth," brief glance to the dragon wrestling, and only the slightest twitch of a brow, "are well." Hraedhyth doesn't use her full strength, instead matching Tacuseth blow for blow. Her own tawny hide is littered with natural spots and far less natural scars. She isn't shy about earning a few more, though that isn't her intention during this sparring match- teeth mouthing harmlessly on one of his forelimbs. Azaylia flinches, first at Jo's blunt mention of I'kris' crime and then at H'kon's curt greeting. Both times are quickly followed by an apologetic smile, "Aggressive? Me?" It's not an answer, "I just meant, Hraedhyth is good at, uhm. Being in charge." Though the subject chafes, now that H'kon is here to listen. Riding leathers get a tug here, and an adjustment there before she gives a nod, "We're fine, thank you. Just got back from sweeps. Arekoth seems healthy." His appetite, as well. Her eyes glance towards Jo, her simple grunt prompting the weyrwoman towards introductions. "This is H'kon, brown Arekoth's." The shrieker. Tacuseth settles into the paring match - blow for blow, teeth for teeth. He tests his larger opponent, faster in movement but any blow from him - and he's not putting much weight into them - being harmless. He is, for the moment, just enjoying the tussle for what it is, seeming to see if he could nip any part of her before she swats him like a fly. On the rider side, Jo watches that flinch with some humor. "It's not a bad thing," she says then on aggression, and then, once formally introduced and H'kon mentions her sweepmate, a brow lifts and she's cutting into the fruit for an initial response. "H'kon," she gives verbally then, something lingering on the amusement side from her. "That I am," and she raises the knife like she was raising a glass in acknowledgement before the slice stuck on top of it gets slipped into her mouth. "It's about the quarantine thing, right?" she puts out there, it seeming to be the connection between greenrider and bluerider at the moment. "So he does," H'kon offers by way of confirmation. He takes all of one step closer to the two women. Arekoth, in the meantime, has his head happily tilted upward as he swallows down the last big bit of flesh. And then, it's to the bone picking. Jo's estimation, or whatever it is, brings a raise of an eyebrow from the brownrider. "As I understood it, that was all done with," has only the vaguest hint of query to it. "I don't know if I could... well, Hraedhyth is rude sometimes." Like when she 'borrows' the wallows of other dragons and forces snuggles upon them. Her hands fold in front of her, delicate motions not quite matching her thick gear, "Oh! Yes, with Madilla..." H'kon earns a slightly wider smile here, "The Weyrhealer I told you about." Odd emphasis is quickly dropped, "You are feeling much better, aren't you Jo?" Her wingmate is given a curious glance, concern more for the bluerider herself than from any fear of a plague. Hraedhyth takes Tacuseth's blows fairly easily, but every now and again she'll falter. Rolling onto her side, exposing her soft belly she kicks and claws at the air as if to fend him off while wriggling in the dirt. Oh no! The mighty blue has felled the gold! It's often enough that the riders may catch on, but it's all in good fun. Jo watches the activity of looks between H'kon and Azaylia, shifting her back to settle more comfortably against the fencing. The brownrider gets more of her idle scrutiny than the weyrwoman though, his words to her getting a wry, "Of course." There the pause lingers, and then, her eyes shift to Azaylia and her comments to H'kon - and then, the question to her. She shakes her head briefly and states, "No fever, no coughin', no sneezin'. Right as rain. Feels good to go back to my business." Pause. "What about the weyrhealer?" she asks now, playing nosy while Hraedhyth is exposing her belly and Tacuseth is taking advantage. Aha! The blue bats at claws with his tail lashing about, trying to give the queen a good nip on the belly before he's rolling off and shrieking to the sky to claim his victory. So flashy. H'kon dips his head in acknowledgement to Azaylia, even giving, "I remember, though have not seen her," in return. Arekoth may only have bones left, but still Tacuseth's screaming shot to the sky is enough to have the brown mantling, wings brought forward and around his kill protectively, head ducked low, teeth shown. Just in case. "She was quarantined with you," H'kon fills Jo in, for all the question may've been meant for Azaylia. This is, surely, a much flatter, less friendly answer. Hraedhyth may not have actually expected the blue to take advantage of her good humor, giving a grunt at the nip to her belly. After a moment of careful inspection, and a lick, she rights herself to watch Tacuseth's victory flight. Rather than show signs of any fury, the gold hefts her bulk up into the air towards an unknown destination. Tacuseth's wallow, to be discovered later, where she will hog it as penance for his cheap shot. "Good. I'm glad." Azaylia smiles a bit more brightly for Jo's good health. H'kon's answer leaves a little to be desired, "Madilla. She's a friend of mine, and honestly the best Weyrhealer we could ever hope for." Try not to choke on the warm fuzzies. Tacuseth watches all the while when Hraedhyth checks her wounds and launches into the sky. Oh yeah, both rider and blue will get a surprise later to find the queen hanging on their ledge - one to find the hogging pretty awkward while the other to find it very problematic for a different reason. The blue, once the tussle was won, swings his head towards Arekoth with his kill, clearly speculating. Azaylia's smile and well wishes to her health earn her the odd look from the convict rider before the topic turns on Madilla. The weyrwoman's answer is taken in stride, thoughtful on it, but it's H'kon's less friendly one that bears her notice. Straightening and seeming to not like his tone, "Yeah, I figured," she says, deadpan. Looking him over as she tosses the remnants of the red fruit aside, "Got a problem with me or somethin'?" Doesn't take long for Jo to jump from neutral to trouble, both booted feet settling on the ground as she eyes his face. H'kon settles his full focus onto Jo for her demand. It's probably that shifting of stance that even has the shorter rider looking her up and down. Features have gone hard without his knowing it, but the, "No," that comes out in time to a blink is perfectly flat, perfectly sincere. Deadpan as well. Still, he doesn't turn his attention from her, even when Hraedhyth takes off, even to look to the ranking Azaylia. And Arekoth? Arekoth keeps his eye on Tacuseth. Mine. In the moment it takes Azaylia to mentally check on her gold, there's tension. Her gaze refocuses and bounces from bluerider to brown, "Problem?" Perhaps she's far more used to all that is H'kon, hence her confusion at Jo's shift of mood. A second passes before she gives a breathless, nervous laugh, "O-oh, no. Uhm," Only after H'kon has answered does she continue, "That's just... his face." With a faint touch to the brownrider's shoulder, she aims the explanation at her wingmate, "I mean, he's just like that. Very... H'kon." Not that she's getting between them, but it's an attempt to perhaps smooth things over. It's not exactly the most flattering attempt. Jo doesn't seem to be backing down, her hard stare staying leveled on every inch of the brownrider before he speaks. Those inflections she hears keeps her stance stiff, that wicked little knife still unsheathed. Even when Azaylia steps in, there's that barest shift of attention as she listens, while Tacuseth pulls his wings back and steps closer and closer towards the larger brown, Arekoth. Aggressive, the both of them. Similar, the both of them. The convict rider, instead of answering steps passed the young weyrwoman over to stand before H'kon in her ensuing silence... before her head tilts just slightly to the side, palms the knife, and deftly sheathes it into its concealed home on her left side. She steps back and flashes them both a smile and a, "Just like that, huh? Hm." Eyes flick to him before the trouble found in hers ebbs, seeming to take Azaylia's explanation as fact. To Azaylia, nodding with her chin, "Always like this?" Well, that's to H'kon, too. Her eyes are on him rather than her. H'kon keeps a firm look pinned on Jo, not even wavering when Azaylia speaks - although the faintest twitch of his head is there, an impulse to look fought down. Above, Arekoth takes one step forward over his now-less-than-prize kill, holding his other (long-injured) leg up. Wings are spread now, and a low hiss issues forth in warning. This is his. Here, look at his teeth again. Back on the ground, H'kon only looks away from Jo once that knife disappears. And then, it seems, feels free to give Azaylia a faintly bemused look. Azaylia still doesn't step between them, though she's not making any room for Jo, either. Her lips hint at a frown, and H'kon will be able to feel her tense through the hand that remains on his shoulder. It doesn't leave her, even after the knife is gone, "Yes." Not curt, but an attempt at firm. "B-besides, you shouldn't get into any, uhm... altercations in front of a Weyrwoman. Anyway." She doesn't look overly pleased at pulling rank, and H'kon's look has her lower lip just a touch more prominent than before. For Jo, "Sometimes he's a little hard to read. That's all." Her hand lifts, both folding in front of her once more. From Hraedhyth's (stolen) perch, there's a sudden bellow for the blue and brown. Drums thunder on, « Boys. You are both very pretty. » Now cut it out. Even from the bellow from above, it's Jo's turn to shoot a look and likely some unspoken words towards Tacuseth, for the blue is swinging away and taking a hopping step back. He likes being called pretty, but he's not telling his rider. Once he moves, she turns back to both H'kon and Azaylia, the latter's words - the regard there guarded at the most from the expression on her face. "Well, guess I'm a little hard to get along with," she gives to them both, perhaps as an explanation. Perhaps as an apology without it overtly being one. "So, it's cool, darlin'." Stepping away, her expression a little uncomfortable before it flickers to her usual stoic faade, "I better get Tac out of here before he starts thinking about takin' on the whole lot of them," she says, jamming hands into dark pants as the blue could be seen leaving the pens with reluctance. "Gotta take care of some things before nightfall." « And this is mine, » Arekoth tags on to the end of Hraedhyth's - what is that, chiding? It's almost instantly after Tacuseth gives off that Arekoth abandons the spent carcass himself, taking to the air, dropping low to skim along the ground, and coming up and backwinging to a stop near the riders. But not too near his. H'kon just looks back to Jo, eyes narrowing a moment, confusion rather than confrontation (though he is notoriously hard to read). And once she's excused herself, there's another look to Azaylia. "And you read me?" is saved until he might hope the bluerider is out of earshot. "Clear skies." Azaylia offers Jo, relaxing quite a bit after the bluerider's not-apology. "Maybe I'll, uhm, catch you during drills sometime?" Though the chance of that happening are awfully slim, what with goldrider duties and Jo's apparent wanderlust. H'kon's question causes her to give a little start, turning to look at the man with wide eyes. She'll take her time in considering an answer, smile slowly curling on her lips as she does. Finally, "Like a dusty, worn old hide in dim glow light." is admitted with a soft laugh, taking a step towards Arekoth. "At least, I try to." And then she's walking over towards the brown for a visit, some scritches, and then off to handle her half of being Weyrwoman. Tacuseth has no words other than a good-natured huff - having been well chastised by all and sundry. Lucky he keeps humor easily, unlike his rider. "I'll catch ya durin' drills," Jo gives the weyrwoman with a curt nod, which could be the case. Stranger things have happened. "Azaylia. H'kon." Each gets that nod from her and then, straightening up her riding jacket, she's heading out of the grounds with the shadow of her waiting blue nearby. |
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