Logs:Fly With Us
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| RL Date: 8 March, 2014 |
| Who: H'kon, Madilla |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: H'kon and Arekoth take Madilla flying. |
| Where: High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 11, Month 3, Turn 34 (Interval 10) |
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| The note left for Madilla with one of the infirmary assistants has been carefully tied - carefully enough it's like to not have been opened - for all that its contents are hardly a scandalous affair. They're hardly an affair at all, really. An hour after sundown. Lakeshore. Fly with us. Well, H'kon probably meant for it to have been a question mark. Which might be why he'll be there, right on time (well, he probably was there early), watching, wary of conversation and disinterested in strange faces. Madilla's staff know her too well to suspect scandal, even in such carefully tied notes; it doesn't mean they don't tease her over it, or earn the faintest of pink flushes for their efforts. It's easier, these days, to escape on time, with the ever-present 'young child' excuse, and it's even easier, tonight, with a note that must, surely, be suggestive of something. It means Madilla's visible across the bowl just before the appointed time, moving at a fast walk that would be faster still if it weren't for lingering ice. H'kon knows her silhouette, knows how she moves. It doesn't mean that, when he lifts his head and pushes his chin forward, it's only a faint quirk that fades. It's attentive, and it holds, through his study of her approach, through the scan, when she's nearer, for that 'young child', and then, through the inspection of her outerwear. H'kon is attentive, and still. Arekoth is less so, stretching out his wings, yawning with an extra vocalisation, and starting to shuffle his feet, as if to get the ichor flowing back. Surely he's been sitting here, waiting, for days. Or maybe there's a line, lost somewhere, about how it only feels like days. There's no young child in attendance, today, and Madilla's sturdy work clothes are largely covered by her heavy riding jacket; and if that's not answer to the question-that-wasn't, perhaps her smile, so abruptly warm for both dragon rider, will suffice. Arekoth's presumed impatience has her reaching to press one gloved hand to his knee as she passes, though - of course - it's to H'kon that she aims her path, coming to a stop just a pace or two away. She doesn't speak, though it's a quiet, easy silence, not an expectant one. Besides, her smile can do the talking for her: 'hello', it says, and also probably 'I was so glad to get your note'. Arekoth flicks his wings, turns that sharp face sideways to inspect the woman. His chuff comes after H'kon's smile, which is certainly warmed to see her, as the rider is reaching a hand out for Madilla's. The brown crouches, ready. So ready. The man, he steps aside, other hand going to the shoulder of her riding jacket, invitation for her to go up first, and approval, too. Far be it for Madilla to keep Arekoth waiting any longer than she needs to, of course. She gives H'kon's fingers a squeeze, then withdraws them so that she might commence the climb up to the brown's neckridges, which she manages with a modicum of grace: practice. It's once she's up there that, with one hand lingering upon the brown, she turns her attention back towards his rider, contentedly watchful, and continuedly silent. Arekoth waits for Madilla. He even waits for H'kon, who climbs up after her. It's a precarious perch for a moment, a quick check for the passenger straps that, today, are the healer's; the sidelong look to her, and the flexing of dragon muscles, both speak to their would-be necessity. H'kon has barely set himself down, barely had time to reach for Madilla, before Arekoth's muscles are bunching. The leap sends him high; his wings send him higher. Cold and clear night air is an invitation; the brown responds with a piercing cry as he gains altitude. It's a good thing that Madilla is quick to strap herself in, both thanks to being used to Arekoth and (it must be said) generally being inclined towards caution. Even so, she's taken partly by surprise as the brown leaps, and if it's exhilarating (and it is), it's also enough to make sure she leans all the more into H'kon. Even if she had words to say, now is clearly not the time for them: they'd be lost to the wind, sent off in all directions. Her smile, though; it's undaunted. H'kon is focused, braced; but Madilla's lean is enough to for him to reach, and settle a hand back to grasp her arm. That becomes a stronger hold at his first inkling through the link, just before Arekoth takes a sharp turn. There's a laugh from him, but it's smothered by the rush of air. He hunkers down, excitement in the instinctive move to make them the more aerodynamic. The force of the veer is redirected upwards; Koth has them up above the rim now, the Weyr laid out below, changing angles this way, that way, a bit more daring than his usual passenger flight. Even with someone so familiar as Madilla. The strength of H'kon's grip does not give Madilla much warning, but some is better than none; that her exhaled breath is a little ragged suggests she could use a little more, though that, too, is lost to the wind. If one can't prepare... one shouldn't even try, right? She's not stiff, then - or, rather, she's clearly attempting not to be, attempting to release herself from that to trust in the grip of H'kon's arm, Arekoth beneath her, and those straps at her waist. Not that it's stopped her from closing her eyes, or squeezing them tight. Arekoth's glee is all but oozing from his very hide. It's daredevil fun, but it's something he's done plenty with his rider (and, to a lesser extent, with his boy, though of course neither H'kon, Arekoth, nor Dilan would dream of sharing this with Madilla); the force is controlled by instinct and experience to keep those on his 'ridges safe, if also thrilled. Another sharp turn, and he evens out... and then dives, not overly steep, but still a dive, down into the bowl at rocket speed. That second cry might be to warn any below of his arrival... but probably isn't. Madilla is probably much happier not knowing about Dilan's experience with flying like this. It's one thing to do it herself (and still a scary thing, at that), but her son? That's altogether different. By the time that dive begins, she's holding her breath, eyes opening, though mostly (it seems) so that they can water against the cold air and wind, as the ground looms larger and larger in front of them. By now, surely entirely without intending to, her exhale has that whistling quality to it that hints at a scream, albeit one whose sound has been lost to the heady combination of exhilaration and fear. Arekoth pulls up. Of course he pulls up. Even H'kon's heart is beating faster as the ascent begins, much calmer now, much more the smooth flights he'll have practiced in the past, most of all when the children are there - well, the girls, or any of them under maternal supervision. Shh. A few moments to allow adrenaline to dissipate, and then H'kon is turning in his seat on his dragon's neck, and, for just a second, grinning like the carefree boy he never fully was, not really. The expression eases, and is heated by a blush, even as his look to Madilla becomes more careful, more one of assessment. The brown reaches his chosen altitude within the bowl, and begins an easy, gliding circle. Madilla's face might be initially white and tense, and it's entirely possible there are crescent-shaped marks in her palms, despite her light wool gloves, but that carefree grin has her tension fading, her breathing slowing; abruptly, she smiles. She opens her mouth, licking her lips cautiously, but if she's intended words, they don't come on command. Instead, there's a lift of her eyebrows, a moment's mirth: so this is what they get up to, is it? It's her smile that has another trying at his face. This one has an element of the self-conscious, as his head gives a quick jerk, not quite a turn forward. Arekoth carries on his lazy circle, glide unbroken, surely well pleased with himself. A glimmer of the more deeply serious on H'kon's face just before, this time, he does turn back forward, leaning away, both hands to the straps before him. There's one more lazy circle to go before the brown takes an easy angle for the piece of ground before the crafters' complex. |
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