Logs:Motion Sickness
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| RL Date: 22 April, 2013 |
| Who: Quinlys, Telavi |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Quinlys and Olveraeth take Telavi and Solith up to the rim. Telavi is not, as it turns out, prone to motion sickness. |
| Where: Southern Rim of the Bowl, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 3, Month 8, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: D'kan/Mentions, K'zin/Mentions, Sabella/Mentions |
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| Southern Rim of the Bowl, High Reaches Weyr Directly opposite the sharp spikes of the Reaches' characteristic spires lies the bowl's south rim, from above seeming pinched like a baker's pie crust to form this distinctive lip: a soft curve, several dragonlengths long but only four lengths wide before narrowing into impassable crags. It would have to be an apprentice effort, however, given how even the flatter area is riddled with cracks and hollows, dusted with glittery silicate quartz that is far more gritty than sweet. Though the view down into the bowl is commanding, the views beyond it can be absolutely breathtaking on clear days: eternally snow-capped mountains descending to high-altitude meadows and the dark brush of evergreens, and greener valleys beyond even those, with only glimpses here and there of human habitation. But the views come with a risk: the wind can blow hard and strong, and whether looking inward or outward, there is no protection from the precipitous chasms that fall away from these heights. The weather today is very pleasant. A few clouds chase each other across the mostly clear skies, and a soft breeze picks up in the afternoon to make for a fine day. 'Soon' is the word in the barracks on when little dragons will be allowed to carry their riders aloft, though 'soon' is clearly not soon enough for some. In the meantime, at least a person can experience it through their dragon, and sometimes even from on high, if a weyrlingmaster is amenable (or just pushy; Quinlys has seemed pretty keen on this). "We like to make sure none of you are afraid of heights before we get that far," the bluerider is saying, as Olveraeth fans his wings out to land upon the rim. "Or motion sickness. That one's a pain in the ass, believe me. You're okay, though? Not going to puke on me?" Her head turns, allowing her to glance back at the weyrling, brows raised. Puke, the magic word. Telavi groans, rolling her head to one side though her balance on Olveraeth stays steady enough, and covers her mouth in an all too suspicious fashion. Of course, the way her eyes dance back at Quinlys above her mouth-concealing hand is suspicious in quite another way, part and parcel with her increasingly grieveous moan. Solith, now, she's fluttering upward without much of a look back, landing right after Olveraeth in close mimicry of the still significantly larger blue, turning blue eyes to look up at him. Was that right? Did she do it right? Please say yes. The abruptly horrified look on Quinlys' face gives a pretty good indication of her thoughts: she hadn't really expected to get any kind of affirmative! "Faranth," she says, yanking off her straps and aiming to drop towards towards the ground in a smooth motion. "Don't throw up on him. Or down the bo--" She pauses, and abruptly straightens, arms crossing. Maybe she's just seen something in Telavi's expression she doesn't like. Olveraeth is oblivious to this exchange, or perhaps simply doesn't care, and has instead turned his whirling gaze upon Solith. « Bravo, young Solith, » he says. « You're flying well. » And now Telavi's laughing behind that hand, she just can't help it, and if the slightly older woman doesn't like it, well, the slightly younger one will brazen it out with eyes no less bright than single-lidded Solith's. The green flicks her long tail, as open a display of her pleasure as, « Thank you, Olveraeth. » The sense of her presence blends into the air, up here, the cool breeze that flows along his wings and hers until, suddenly girlish, she furls them to hop over and investigate some of those shiny, glittery rocks. Perhaps she's seen them before, another sevenday, but now there's just as much joy as though it were the first time. Telavi does glance over, if only for a moment, before she's turning that bright gaze back to Quinlys. "I couldn't resist, ma'am," she assures her. "I've heard you're Weyrbred, too?" Quinlys looks, for a moment, like she's going to be annoyed... and then she's laughing, too, at first just with a twitch of her mouth, and then, more enthusiastically. "Little wretch," she says, head shaking. "Should've known better than to believe that. Right - born and bred here. Know this place like the back of my hand, pretty much. It did strike me as odd that you would - well." Olveraeth draws back his wings, folding his forelimbs in front of him in a pose that still allows him to watch Solith. He seems pleased with her, his cascade of stars rippling and expanding, spreading them further - all the better to illuminate even more. « You can see how far the world goes, » he says, low-toned. « Further than this, of course, but it's a start. We'll visit it all, soon. A world of wonders. » With that, and a glance dropped to what she can see of Quinlys' hand, Tela's grin just grows and grows until her own really can't hide it any longer and drops to her lap, instead. Her thumb plays along the leather of Olveraeth's strap. "A cannier girl would have brought something up, chewed it and stashed it in her cheek," but her shrug says that the bluerider's just stuck with her instead. Although, "Although, if you'd have caught her, you might have dragged her to the healers, and then no flying for us. Would you like me to get down?" Solith's currently biting at one of the particularly shiny rocks, not so much to chew but to try and brace her teeth around it like a not so miniature vise. It's tricky with the dust, and her tongue flicks at it once as though it tastes awful. . « I will look, » she assures. « It will just take a moment. » She has to carry her rock over to Olveraeth first, after all, and drop it at his feet like one of those very same stars. « Would you like to sit like Sisarrath and look and look and look, always? » "Now I'm going to doubt anyone who actually is sick," says Quinlys, accusatory in a far too cheerful kind of way. "You can hop down if you like. Or not. We might as well let them," Olveraeth and Solith, presumably, "enjoy themselves up here for a few minutes. You can tell me how things are going." « How does it taste? » Olveraeth's not curious in the active sense, but instead, in the scientific, as though he's measuring Solith's responses and noting them down for future reference. « There is much that can be learned from looking, but I think I would prefer to be allowed to explore as well as look. We are not made to simply sit, and watch. » In that case, Tela drapes herself forward along Olveraeth's neck, looping one goosebumpy arm for stability around his nearest ridge but otherwise as comfortable as on anyone's couch. Of course, this one happens to be self-willed and eminently movable, but, "I'm glad you doesn't mind," she says more to the dragon, leaning her cheek against his hide so that she can smile down at his rider. It's a rare reflection of Solith, who's gazing upward. « Of course not, » the young dragon's happy to agree, though there's a sense that if Olveraeth had favored the watching course, she might have... perhaps not gritted her teeth, Solith only gets grit on her teeth when she's crunching bone or carrying around the odd rock, but at least tried to bear it. « It tastes like dead sand. But it looks nice, when wet especially, maybe nicer still when clean... You do not mind carrying Telavi? She says I'm small, that it will be some time before we, » Solith trails off, not unhappily exactly, but the 'some time' feels like a 'long time.' Before they do that. What Olveraeth and his rider and her oneday-rider have done. "Are you talking about how Quielle likes her oatmeal, or Iceberg's would-be wingleader of the day?" Or somewhere in between. Quinlys looks amused for that, and Olveraeth - well, he only shifts a little bit, not enough to dislodge, probably, but enough to remind. The bluerider stretches, rolling her shoulders back in an exaggerated gesture. « Dead sand. Not live sand? » Olveraeth is teasing the smaller dragon, and sending shooting stars through their commingled mental spaces as he does so. « I do not mind carrying her. She's light, and I'm not small. Does it bother you, that I have to? For now. » It's not, he says-without-saying, so very far away, now. « You're growing. » "Anything at all," prompts the bluerider, without hesitating. "Will your new Wingleader and Wingsecond go mad with power? Will the silver thread program tear you all apart into haves and have-nots? Will the teenagers teen-angst everyone else to death?" Tela doesn't press her elbow into Olveraeth's hide for balance or reminder or anything, only clutches his ridge a little tighter, though there's a moment where she could have. The smile she has for his rider has altered slightly, whether from the red-haired woman's stretch or her words, and she takes a moment to think about it before she replies. Solith doesn't, though. « No. » Not live sand, and the young green can't seem to be too bothered by being teased, not with those distracting stars. « No... » it doesn't bother her, or at least it shouldn't bother her, and she does try not to mind these things. She breathes more deeply, her wings rising with the inhalation and falling again as she exhales. « You are huge. Rojeth looks large, but he is not, he is more like me. » That moment of Telavi's could seem longer, were one listening to dragons, but it's just that. Just a moment. "Isn't that why you made a 'have-not' wingleader instead of the other way around? A lot of people were surprised, I think. And that last, you say that last as though I weren't a teenager... if barely," and Tela's smile is more impish than not, and certainly more so than just a couple of sentences earlier. "Why has someone been following K'zin around all this time, by the way? Don't they have anything better to do?" « Infinitely large, » is Olveraeth's reply, which could so easily be inscrutable except that he shares: billions upon billions of stars, forever and ever. Quinlys keeps half an eye on her dragon, but he doesn't seem to intend to move again; slowly, her attention slides back towards Telavi. "Ah," she says. "Interesting conclusion. Might it also be that we'd like to see how you haves do, working below someone who hasn't had the same training you have? Or perhaps there are dozens of reasons." Quinlys isn't telling, not outright: just jamming her fingers into the pockets of her trousers and looking smug. "What? Oh - that. I mean, he's supposed to be escorted some of the time, for punishment, but... I'm ninety-nine percent convinced a couple of old retired riders have picked up on that and are following him just to mess with him." And doesn't Quinlys look pleased! That large? Solith marvels, then even hops up, fluttering her wings in a way that just can't seem to hold still enough to hover. No, she has to swirl up and around Olveraeth as though that would help her see better, the sense of her moving likewise as though to mimic one of those earlier, shooting stars. And Telavi, she's laughing, no, giggling. "Are they really? I should bring them something, flowers maybe. Don't worry, I won't tell," she promises... only to laugh some more, just imagining. It takes her a little while to get back to Quinlys' first comments. "Not that we've had so much training, yet," Tela finally says, "but I like to think," and there's that gleam in her eye, "that you're too clever to have only one reason." "I like to think that I'm," beat, "we're too clever to only have two," volleys Quinlys back, as smug as ever, and rising up on her toes even as she says it: like Solith, but in human form. "Oh good, don't tell. It'd be awkward. At least he's trying hard, now. Harder than ever." That is vaguely approving-- vaguely. Olveraeth blows warm air in Solith's direction, all the better to match those endless stars; he seems pleased by her reaction, more pleased than ever. "We'd better get back down, I think. She's small - I don't want to tire her out." Telavi's laugh is golden, effervescent even, and far be it for a weyrling to quibble with even one of her weyrlingmasters. "In that case," clearly she concedes, and in the matter of Solith's size likewise, though she's not laughing now as the young green borrows some of that warm air for what she's learned to be a thermal and rises higher, higher. The weyrling sits up to make room for the rider, even, with a pat of Olveraeth's hide. "Traveling to the Hold sounds fun, and I'm just as happy to miss Tillek. Is it true that place smells of fish from dragonlengths up?" She's still watching Solith, but perhaps there's some mental communication after all, for after another moment the green partially vanes her wings and goes gliding down towards the Bowl with a scattering of mental stars in her wake. Then, abruptly Telavi looks down, not even waiting for Quinlys' reply. Quickly but quietly, like it's something she maybe shouldn't be doing, "Mind bringing that rock up with you? The one she was playing with, I mean." Quinlys' "Tillek," says about as much as needs to be said on the subject of that particular hold - and none of it is complementary. Though she gives Telavi a semi-dubious glance on the subject of the rock, it's still not dubious enough to stop her from acceding to the request. Rock - and bluerider - reutrn to Olveraeth, who does a circle or two around the spires before he seeks the ground again. He'll share the sensation of that with Solith-- along with an apology, and a silence promise that soon she'll be able to do such things with her rider, too. Soon! |
Comments
Azaylia (Dragonshy (talk)) left a comment on Tue, 23 Apr 2013 10:34:45 GMT.
< Aaah~ I can't get over how cute Solith is sometimes. <3 I wonder if she'll force Telavi to have a collection of shiny rocks? Or is it just a collection of things Solith things are nice? X3 Good talk.
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