Logs:Territorial
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 19 September, 2014 |
| Who: Edyis, Azaylia |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Hraedhyth wrestles. Azaylia works. Edyis observes and asks questions. |
| Where: Western Bowl, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 7, Month 11, Turn 35 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Elise/Mentions, Hattie/Mentions, Iolene/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, Leova/Mentions, Lilah/Mentions |
  |
| Western Bowl, High Reaches Weyr The bowl's vast dirt floor extends in a rough oval from west to east, only sparse clumps of grass surviving between the crisscrossed pathways of daily traffic. To the northwest stand massive gates to the world beyond, allowing people, livestock, and tithes to pass beneath some of the seven jagged spires that stand sentinel over that area of the bowl. In late afternoons, their spindly, fingerlike shadows stretch over that end of the bowl all the way to the living cavern's hulking brass doors in the far north. Eastward, the bowl sprawls on toward the lake, sloping slightly downward to allow runoff from rain and snowmelt, but to the south it's caged by more cliffs of dark, rough-cut granite. Rocks poke up from the ground here, a few large boulders and many smaller outcroppings worn smooth in spots by time and use. A few ground weyr entrances dot the wall, the most frequented ledge set up like a patio while the largest ledge services the Weyrleaders' complex, directly beside the huge entrance to the hatching sands. A more human-sized entrance, left of that, leads to the galleries. The chill in the air doesn't stop some from going about their daily duties, High Reaches busy as ever despite the cool air and the first inklings of snowfall. There is always work to be done, and today it seems is no exception, though one particular scribe seems headed away from her usual station having finished her work early. Dark eyes search the bowl for the telltale signs of one particular warrior queen and her usual wrestling matches, Edyis's usual notebook under arm as she tugs the loose wool of her sweater more tightly about her, perhaps debating the choice of subject matter for the day, keenly alert for any signs of the Reachian Weyrwoman. It's not so bad that the cold can't be warded off with tea, the spicy brew sitting in a mug so large that it could also be used for soup. The steamy drink is within reach of Azaylia, the Weyrwoman stubbornly fighting autumn's arrival by still taking her work outside-- before it gets too cold to do so. Dressed in a thick dress and warm, black leggings, she pours over her paperwork with a look of gentle focus. A safe distance away, though some might still consider it 'too close', Hraedhyth's hide gives an audible THUMP against her opponent's. The sizeable brown bellows his challenge, and it's daunting to see such large creatures move with such ferocious speed, tussling about with fervor. The impact of dragon bodies on the ground is enough to send a ripple through the surface of Azaylia's tea. Edyis's eyes are as wide as saucers at the thump. A deep breath is drawn in, as she angles for the safer zone near the dusky skinned goldrider, staying right at the edge of that bubble some would call personal space. "Is she upset with him?" Her soft soprano voice sounding quite small against the backdrop of thudding, bellowing dragons. Then again, observing how quickly the dueling beasts close ground, perhaps she still feels a little too close to the action. "Of course not." Azaylia's answer is prompt and smooth, although she has yet to lift her gaze from her paperwork. A page is slipped from front to back, completing her thought before tilting her head to look up at Edyis. "They're just playing. Hraedhyth is actually quite fond of him." From an outsider's perspective, the Weyrwoman's words seem like the complete opposite of what is going on between the dueling dragons. The tawny gold swings her head forward, knocking into the sturdy brown's shoulder with enough force to have talons scraping but leave him standing. Not to worry, as Hraedhyth is getting as good as she gives. With obvious warmth for her formidable lifemate, "After they tire themselves out she'll probably lick his wounds and snuggle up for the night." Dubious is the expression the scribe wears, watching the giants do battle. "If that is her way of showing affection, I would really hate to see her when she's upset. " Edyis regards the Weyrwoman with a lift of her brow and an awkward smile. "You aren't bothered by them at all are you? K'del told me once that you used to be afraid of them, but I just can't picture it." "Should've been here during our weyrlinghood," That smile shrinks faintly, a twitch of her brow before it's maintained, "Or if more foreign golds decide to visit for..." Who knows what. "Hraedhyth's awful territorial." The easy explanation is punctuated by the sound of the gold's snarling bellow as she charges her playmate. Edyis' question causes her to blink, glancing over at the two before she lets forth a breathless laugh, "Getting mauled by Hraedhyth on the sands helped with that. I think... I've said that before?" Specifically to her. But, "I wouldn't recommend it." Dark eyes shift ever so cautiously back to the Weyrwoman. "Territorial? She doesn't seem to mind the brown in her space, what would be so different about a queen? She doesn't seem to have issue with Iesaryth does she?" Settling down cross legged but maintaining that distance, as the notebook is opened and notes scribbled. As for Azaylia repeating herself the scribe simply shrugs if she is surprised it doesn't translate to her expression. "You did I believe." Azaylia makes no protest as Edyis sits nearby, paperwork collected in her lap as she gives a little shake of her head, "It's just other queens. Hraedhyth doesn't even mind when her mates chase greens. Honestly," And there's a note of surprise in her own voice, "I think she encourages them. More to brag about, I suppose." She turns to reach for her tea, one hand cupped beneath it for extra stability as she sips above those papers. "Iesaryth is different. Hreadhyth got to know her when they were babies and almost instantly accepted her as a sister, and part of our Weyr." Ergo, not a foreign usurper. "She does her best to behave when visiting other Weyrs, but when it comes to Home... well. It's hers." "How does her mates chasing greens give her more to brag about?" The tone taking on an almost insatiably curious edge, more notes scribbled attention divided between the dueling dragons and the conversation at hand. "So it's entirely likely that while Hraedhyth is senior Reaches will not take on any foreign transfers unless they are very young?" The question purely scholarly in nature from the quick clean script scratched onto paper, the sounds seeming to punctuate the weyrwoman words. "Have there been more foreign queens visiting of late? I noticed earlier you said more." She adds as an afterthought. "Don't ask me." The Weyrwoman insists with another laugh, the sound eventually fading as she aims a curious look toward her lifemate. With a blink to banish her unfocused gaze, she has an answer for Edyis, one that obviously amuses her. "The more they catch, the more virile they are. Or smart. Or quick. They have to be the best, since they caught her." Though fond, there's a note of teasing as she explains her dragon's peculiarities. "Not necessarily. If she were a transfer, intending to join the tr-- Weyr, it would be different." Edyis has found the magic topic, but then isn't it this way for many dragonriders? Once again, Azaylia's face sobers, taking a moment to mull over the last question. "Ah... Elise and her Aedrielth came over during Elaruth's sudden flight. The Senior queen of Fort. But it's not so much that as..." Confusion drags it out, before she finally submits to a light furrow of her brow and a soft nod, "The other junior, Lilah. It feels like Eliyaveith is over here often. Or, that's how Hraedhyth feels." Her voice takes on a pensive, airy note, "I should ask Hattie if they're looking to transfer but... she'd have mentioned it, if so." It is odd behavior, if only due to the foreign dragon's hue. It's at the word virile that the scribe can no longer suppress a snicker. "I think if some of the girls in the lower caverns felt that way there'd be fewer catfights." Not that Giorda ever suffers many of those. At mention of Lilah, Edyis grows thoughtful, tapping her pencil absently against the page. "Isn't that the one that failed to clutch?" She states of Eliyaveith, "I have been meaning to ask Leova about that, about what would cause a gold to fail to clutch after a flight. Seems like it would be a worrisome thing." Compared to Edyis' soft snicker, Azaylia sounds serious, "I think that, too. Or the Weyr as a whole." Because monogamy is a strange and usually troublesome thing. Her smile disappears completely at mention of that failed clutch, the Weyrwoman turning to place her tea aside as she mumbles, "There hasn't been record of a failed clutch before. Fake flights, maybe." Rather than grim, her delicate voice is too light and airy, as if to soften the implication. "But," The Weyrwoman turns back to the scribe with a gentle nod, "Leova might know something. Although, I don't know why you would want to find out?" Not exactly an accusation, just confusion. "Fake flights I've heard are more of a Reachian tradition." Softly spoken as more notes are scribbled. At the question the younger woman smiles gently, patiently even. "Scholarly inquiry mostly, some overcome their fears by mauling, some by seeking to understand the things that frighten them. I like understanding things, events, and people. Keeps you from underestimating their true natures." The notes cease as quickly as they began the book closing about the pages. "You are a busy woman and I have intruded upon your work." Azaylia nods, agreeing with what Edyis has heard. Though she offers her own thoughts, "Or pulling them off semi-successfully is, at least." Only partly, due to death. The scribe's attempt to overcome her fears earns an odd furrow of the Weyrwoman's brow. "I hope it helps." Though it doesn't sound as though she's terribly confident. "Dragons are more than just... notes." Hraedhyth is panting, leaving her brown challenger in much the same state as they stare and circle each other. Though she could easily overpower him with her size, it's the queen who flumps onto the ground first. A truce, as the other dragon flumps against her for post-battle grooming. "I don't mind answering questions about my lifemate." Azaylia admits with an embarrassed little laugh, though she does pick up her paperwork. "You're welcome to sit and... write?" Although in silence. "As are people." She says of notes, "It was as good a place as any to start, and has helped tremendously." She tilts her head thoughtful at the weyrwoman's invitation, "Only for a little while." Falling into an easy an unobtrusive silence the book is opened sketches added to the notes until eventually between words and lines the story of the battle unfolds and when she's done observing it is with a wordless nod that she bids farewell. |
Leave A Comment