Logs:People, Not Dragons
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| RL Date: 13 September, 2012 |
| Who: Brieli, Serah |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Brieli (Aishani) has heard Serah's been searched at Fort. Yay? She tries to help her cousin, but maybe just confuses her further. Iesaryth is slimed. |
| Where: Meadow, Fort Hold |
| When: Day 12, Month 10, Turn 29 (Interval 10) |
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| Meadow, Fort Hold Set apart from the main hold, this meadow offers an inviting respite from the bustle of Hold life. Lush and verdant grasses and grains grow rampant and abundant in this peaceful and tranquil meadow. Shaded by a copse of softwood and evergreen trees, the light is dappled and freckled where it warms the ground. At certain hours of the day, small woodland creatures emerge from the small forest and may be seen frolicking about in the grasses. Paths lead back toward the hold, winding their way along near the inner edge of the orchards before returning to the white stone so familiar to the Hold's courtyard and main halls. The peace and tranquility have been shattered as the meadow has been taken over by the Travelling Show. Lush grasses have been trampled flat or cropped short by grazing runners. Those wagons not converted into stages for various shows have been pulled in amongst the trees at the meadow's edge, a private camp for the show's populace. The show area itself takes up the majority of open space, performance tents and wagons set up in a horse-shoe shape about the edge. The central area is dotted with smaller stands and stalls that house the various games available. Only two are devoted to food and beverage, one selling small cups of cheap liquor and juice, the other frying up strips of meat and tuber slices to be smothered in salt and sauce. An 'entryway' is marked with a simple, multi-coloured banner and ribbons attached to two tall poles, with a small platform set up to one side for a crier to announce shows about to begin and welcome patrons. A clear autumn night over Fort Hold, the night air carrying the first hints of frost. It might make people in wagons a touch nervous, that snap so near to reality that it might make some consider moving on. Maybe elsewhere, a much shabbier caravan's headed south on the backroads - or as far south as they'll dare, the more festive camp outside the Hold isn't moving, not yet. It's harder to see what comes from above, even in clear skies, flying shapes are but shadows - until one comes nearer, near enough to circle down and land in the meadow, a respectful distance from the caravan. Iesaryth isn't so sunny in the dark, but it doesn't affect her mood; her wings rustle as she settles herself to allow her rider to drop down to land. The dragon is already bigger than the last time. Night shows have become less rowdy since the original, leaving the meadow mostly clear except for the warm flickering lights and boisterous laughing and talking, as if of old friends, in a few of the circled tents. A woman dances, and the tinkling of a dozen little bells follow the sways of her hips. It may not be as instant, or as intangible, as dragon-speak, but show-speak keeps to a swift purpose. The dragon lands, Brieli unbuckles, and a couple of men who've come to the edge some yards away to greet her are joined by the gentle yapping of two circling canines, squat and flat-nosed; they circle each other with the same vigor as watch for the dark golden shape in the distance. After half a minute, they scamper over to weave beside the legs of Serah, who comes up to the shoulder of one man and turns aside to speak to him. He looks at the dragon, arms crossed, shrugs, and walks off. Soon, his companion does, too. Dressed in dark colors down to her jacket, there's only one spot of brightness about Brieli; the red scarf she unwinds quick enough now that she's on the ground, and the men are likely right to watch for people of her like, because her boots don't make much of a sound, either. She's not dressed for stealth, but that, along with her arrival, might be enough to cause further suspicion. The canines get more notice than the men, at first - but she stops for them, her own arms folded, fine brows arching. Yes? But thankfully, Serah saves everyone from conversation - there's a flash of a grin for the other girl, but nothing but neutral confidence for her guards, no matter how long they hang around. But then, when they're alone, "Bad time? Or are you on guard for some reason?" Serah isn't wearing anymore than the same tunic and pants with the elbow-worn brown jacket, all with fresh wear from the day, like the constant splash of dirt across her boots from where it's been rowdily stirred -- a fair description for the still distant but noticeable noise pollution going on behind them in the lighted tents. "Night show tends t'stir people up," she informs Brieli with a tinge of humor that soon flees. "Most of 'em? Dumb 'n drunk 'n occupied. But we keep it safe." For those who are dumb and drunk /and/ motivated, perhaps. Or maybe think they didn't get enough of a private show, per se. Diligent guard dogs that they are, the canines snap to focus on Brieli with ranges of success; the mostly brown one, a remarkably solidly built creature for his lacking height, sniffing and intermittently growling, while the grey flounders with his directions, then rampages towards Brieli's foot with a sudden startle that has him changing angles at the last minute to come up behind her, buggered nose pointed out towards the dragon. "Tch, Stupid," Serah mutters, raising a hand to snap a few times near her side. "Keep it close." Glancing to the glow of the fire, lighted tents and merriment beyond, "I imagine that it's necessary. On occasion, at least. And one of the three should make you all decent marks, no matter where they come from." Brieli - Aishani, really - looks back to add to Serah, with some wry amusement, "It seems like weyrfolk gamble, drink, or both." Which has she picked up, over time? Not likely much of a gambler. As she looks down at the canines, her smile doesn't fade despite growling and sniffing, or rampaging. They're fierce, but not huge. She /does/ lift up that foot to let Stupid pass, though, watching after. "Oh, she won't mind." Iesaryth has only a calm blue gaze for the pug, head lowered to get down to 'his level' - but she does choose that moment to yawn a bit widely; big mouth for little pups to get lost in. Flatly, "Nice." Instinctive, like a shot, Serah jerks forward as that maw opens up so close to Stupid; the little pug earning his namesake by wandering, sniffing ignorantly, closer. Fear fades quickly into just caution, doing nothing to help her unglue her eyes from the golden hunk drawn in shadow. Feeling useless, her hand curls against her side, helping to fuel a petulant shrug off that shoulder. "More'n seems they do a lotta blusterin'n sneerin', too." Her grumpiness, now starting to wean through, thickens her poor enunciation, while a vein of annoyance would seek to sharpen it. Ugly patrols at Serah's feet, having dashed to her side at the quick movement of aborted alarm. He seems to sneer rather well, himself, up at Aishani, except that his wrinkled eyes are no more intimidating when squinted shut than wide open circles. Aishani doesn't stop Serah, doesn't even make a move to hold her back - though she /does/ have a bit of a look for Iesaryth. The gold doesn't open her mouth again, but she does sniff at Stupid in return without so much as a movement, just a huff or two of breath, loud in contrast. Hello. Speaking of shoulders, she turns to look at her cousin's with a flicker of her gaze before it comes back up; it meets hers. Without pretense, "Yes. Not all, but some. Some people like their position in life a little too much." Ugly gets the side-eye briefly - no biting her boots - before, "I heard you might have been spending more time at the Weyr." Ugly appears currently content to stand across Serah's toes, without the girl even twitching to show she feels the added -- not insignificant -- weight. Her jacket looks quite empty in the dark, shifting as she crosses her arms. "Half days e'ery day, 'cept when I'm down here for rest." A roll of her eyes, indistinguishable between for this, or the other subject that bites at her so sourly. "Not all, 'n the rest jus' come to their defense. People. Who want me t'treat them with respect without a lick to show they've earned it first. Whose power comes from a winged beast. It's terror tactics is all it-- ... is." Slowing comes as she, coming off the heat of her moment, recalls with a vicious blink that she's speaking to one. Tunnel-vision widens in hindsight. Though her teeth clench shut, her mouth opens, head tilting, as if she might express the apology suddenly on her face. "Well. That's something. Though the work is more to get you out of the way than anything. I can't see why it would matter if you were out-of-the-way here. Half days are enough to keep an eye on you." Because Aishani just assumes they will be watching Serah. That's the way of the world, in her mind - suspicion of the unknown is expected. Pulling on the ends of her scarf as she listens, her lips quirking into something of a smile - one that widens, oddly, as the now-candidate stops, shuts up; dipping her head, dark curls covering her face, she might have missed the apology entirely. Tones rich with something between amusement and her own bitterness, "Do you think I disagree? Do you think I see things all that differently now?" Iesaryth, for her part, doesn't seem to be demanding much but Stupid's attention with one sneaking talon - he can sniff that, if his lets him. "She threatens to take 'em away, my days here -- that Weyrwoman. Says I'm impudent." Said in such a tone as to basically prove the Weyrwoman right. But Serah relents a second later, curling her lower lip inside her mouth and glancing aside. A self-conscious hand bats at the hair at the side of her head with the weight of the other still crossed over her elbow. "I can't do Felchan any good if I can't keep m'mouth shut." Some recognition of her behavior, filtered in with a stubborn thread of suggestion that change is not necessarily wanted; not really /good/. Speaking of: "Do you?" shoots out of her, honestly wondering and curious. More impact may have been made of it, if she was looking Aishani in the eye. She has overshot, staring at Iesaryth's golden form, the talon of which Stupid wanders up to, scuffling in the dirt back and forth, before shoving his face, snot-bubble included, right into the dragon. Ugly whuffs discontentedly from Serah's foot. Iesaryth lets forth a gusty sigh as she is slimed. But her blue eyes are brightly whirling, and she remains still - and looks as interested as a dragon can look. Small odd gross furry thing. Aishani's looking up again, at the dragon now - and there's a moment where she's softer, fonder in expression than she's been before. Around Serah, at least, but there's something of her younger self there. Before a sharp laugh, "I'll bet she does. It's certainly easier to make nice and pretend. It's better, then they don't know." That you hate them. Glancing the younger girl's way, dark gaze more serious, "It's not without it's... dangers though - sometimes... it hurts to push it all /down/. Away. But if you want to help them, yourself... make friends. Listen to them." A pause, before, "Our Weyrs don't get on well. I've heard interesting things about the Weyrwoman. And I don't, in most ways. I can't." A stubborn little ripple moves across Serah's shoulder; she shakes them, stalls answering by making a few clucking noises at Stupid. The canine pauses in the middle of an attempt to scale Iesaryth's foreleg, scrambling front feet back down and running excitably in a circle that's vaguely meant to take him back towards his owner. Ugly snaps his head in a different direction, snarling at distant figures moving past the tents' perimeter. They're greeted by patrolling roustabouts who appear from the dark, so he remains planted with the girls. "I want them t'know," she complains hot-headedly, only to, noticeably, rethink it a second later. Dangers. Her hand drops and the arms squeeze against her chest. "I said takin' that white knot was an' honor'n I felt like I was punching myself." But caution -- a deeper fear she shows without realizing -- has been stronger, still gleams now in the dark. "Or I see that gold dragon." Not /this/ one; though it's Iesaryth that Serah stares inescapably at again, her arms so tight. An unspoken 'and' hovers there. 'I see that gold dragon /and/...' There was a gold dragon there /that/ night. The dragon in question does a good job of not scraping her forepaw through the dirt just yet, though she does just leave it out there. Someone will likely be helping with that later, fun! The someone in question is quick to snap her head over to the distant figures that skate along the edges of her attention, frame only relaxing when they're greeted by the patrol and Aishani can figure out what's going on. Quietly, "One day, they can know. That's not today." And the dangers she's referring to might not be just the obvious ones, though she doesn't expand - she has her own ties now, beyond the giant still-growing one nearby. Glancing Serah's way with some sympathy, "There's ways to say what you want without saying it outright. And it is an honor. To some people." Looking down at her boots, "I know. I don't dream about it as often as... other things. But." Over a heavy sigh, "It's not the dragons, it's the people. I learned that at least, so. Maybe that will help. It's never the dragons." Serah's face wrinkles skeptically, even as she attempts to put on an openly listening expression. As Stupid dashes by in his next lap, she bends down, grabs the fat belly extending out of both sides, and lifts to turn him in a different direction. As soon as his feet hit the ground, the canine scampers obligingly off the way he's pointed, briefly leaving the girls in the quiet of just Ugly's panting. Straightening, Serah's come to a conclusion of looking fitfully certain Aishani's missed something. Her skepticism hardened, she mulls over how best to voice it -- for once -- with a pursuing of her lips and the slow uncomfortable rock forward and back of her hips where she stands. Chin slightly lowered, she shoots a glance over to Iesaryth, her bulk, but not eyes that she can't quite dare to meet. "They talk to each other." Secretly: an unstated emphasis. "The secret." Theirs. Brieli's way. "Can y'keep it so deep the dragons don't see it..." Watching the little pug waddle off for a moment, Aishani isn't in a rush to hear what Serah has to say, finally releasing the ends of her scarf to toss curls over her shoulders, sliding hands into her jacket pockets. The arch of fine brows say she's curious, but she waits until the words are considered, since they are - for once. When it becomes clear just what her cousin is getting as, she smiles - it seems to be a rare, genuine smile, one that's turned on Iesaryth first, who offers a quiet rumble. Shaking her head, she turns to tell the roustabout, "No. Or I couldn't figure out how. But I don't think one that would find you would tell. She never has." That, she's certain of. A burst of laughter from the tents startles her out of that lighter mood; with a purse of her lips, "I should go. But... I have excuses to be at Fort. I'll be able to find you." Trouble, is what Aishani is poised to leave her cousin with, but Serah sets to nodding to send her off -- distracted, not reluctant. Then she won't have to stare, tight-mouthed and secretly envious, clouded by the lack of assurance the answer and general show of affection for the dragon brings. But there's also a note of determination about the way Serah sways backwards, taking a step as to regain her place walking the grounds. "Just till the weather changes," she confidently tells her departing cousin, "Then I give back t'knot and help us move on." There's less of a final feeling about, not in regret about the Weyr, but a lingering question for the future past that. And, watching Aishani, she seems to be contemplating if one exists there. Or, as her gaze shifts off of the other girl in a slip of embarrassment, home. Aishani offers Serah a little shrug, an apologetic smile. She doesn't have all the answers, she just pretends to brilliantly. But she tries; "No one knew before she did." Maybe that's something, maybe not. Taking her own step back, her expression isn't more than mildly curious, but she does ask, "Are you sure? You do have options." Staying, going - finding the traders taking the back roads south. "If..." But now it's her turn to stop and shift her gaze away, skyward, before, "Never mind. Either way, you'll let me know what you're doing, yes?" There's a few backward steps before, "Be careful." And then it's to Iesaryth, who is ready to go (and discreetly dragging her slimed paw across the dirt). It doesn't take long for them to be up in the air and gone, swiftly for so much dragon. |
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