Logs:Rattier
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| RL Date: 7 March, 2014 |
| Who: R'hin, Telavi |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: R'hin and Telavi go on a pseudonymous adventure. It's a test. |
| Where: High Reaches Weyr and waystation near the Minecraft |
| When: Day 10, Month 3, Turn 34 (Interval 10) |
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| "Too much moping, little sailor. Time for some fun." That's R'hin's pitch, and as it goes -- it might not be overly convincing if it wasn't for the way he falls into step with Telavi, his fingers curling around her elbow, and redirecting her path towards the bowl. He's giving her a sidelong, speculative look. "Do you have anything... rattier?" Not that Telavi doesn't go along with it, if after her own glance at not-so-little R'hin, a glance that becomes an actual double-take; for once she has to glance at her own attire, too, not for effect but just to check: what is she wearing? "Clothing? I do." She's speculative too, just on the tired side; what she's got now is matched, streamlined leathers, easy enough to step into, though her ponytail's not at all fanciful. "Don't tell. What for?" "Then change. I'll wait." A beat. "I can come critique if that'll help," he adds, in an offer that glimmering gaze suggests he doubts will be taken up. R'hin is wearing his own leathers (and that not-quite-matching-jacket, but peeking through the edges is a slightly more frayed looking tunic. "Dress like a laborer. Or a laborer's daughter. Something along those lines." He doesn't give that much more guidance, unhelpfully enough: he's releasing her elbow and striding off towards Leiventh. That gets a half-smile, a flick of her fingers at that frayed collar; "It might wind up more like 'dressing up like a laborer's daughter.'" But it's not her shift; what does she have that's better to do? Solith will disappear her too, and return her more-or-less where Leiventh winds up, complete with also-frayed canvas trous a bit too big, and an oil-stained shirt not in her favorite colors that had required a stop by a friend's ledge to get. And her riding jacket, since he'd got his. "Reporting in," comes out facetiously, if with real interest in her eyes. R'hin takes out a moment to inspect Telavi with -- let's face it -- probably more intentness than is necessary -- before he nods approval. He gestures wordlessly upwards, Leiventh pushing skyward moments later. The flight is easy at first, Leiventh setting a pace that allows he and Solith to fly wingtip to wingtip. Once they're out of the Weyr-proper, the bronze shares an image: a mountainous area that might look vaguely familiar to a Benden-born Telavi: the location is not that far from the Minecraft. A gesture from the bronzerider indicates he'll follow Telavi's lead once she has the image. Not flying out immediately; that's already piqued that much more interest, though Solith relishes the time in the sun despite the frigid weather, and sends out that pleasure as a breeze's worth of sun-upon-sun. The image-- well, if it's not somewhere warm, at least it's somewhere different, and a hand signal in return precedes the pair's disappearance. Upon emergence they stay high, awaiting Leiventh's cue instead of the other way around. Either Leiventh is watchful and R'hin relies on him, or they anticipate Telavi's signal, emerging the same time as the green pair. Immediately, Leiventh sets a tight spiral downwards -- there's no visible structures below, and no reason to be landing right there, except that there's space enough for the pair of them to set down safely. Once on the ground, R'hin sheds his jacket and other flight gear, bending to the ground to grab some dirt, rubbing it across one cheek and into his hair with a nonchalance borne of familiarity. Now-changed Telavi looks at him. She looks at him. "I don't suppose even a laborer's daughter gets to be clean?" she has to ask, plaintively, before following suit-- though even then, her handful feints at helping with his hair before she directs it toward the outer seams of her trous. "They should be the dirtiest. You'd be at home keeping my house clean, girl," R'hin's voice lapses into a Benden drawl to echo her own. There's a low chuckle as she reaches to fuss with his hair, and he lets her, though his eyes are rolled to keep an eye on her as she does. "C'mon." Leiventh settles down into the rocky glade, as his rider leads the way down a steep, narrow path; within one turn of the path they can't even see where they landed. The rocks slide here and there, and he slows to glance over his shoulder to make sure Telavi keeps a sure footing. "Go on with you," Telavi thickens her own. She does follow, at least once she's regretfully messed herself up, after her first slip of pebbles underfoot taking it easy on the trickier parts but speeding up when she can. If she has questions-- 'if'-- for now she hangs onto them. Solith's nosing about meanwhile, but if there's nothing too interesting, she'll settle soon enough-- ideally borrowing the larger dragon as a windbreak against whatever blows by. It's hard work, though not unfeasible for one used to running regularly. It's a good fifteen minutes of descent before they drop out into a wider track, the dual indentations in the road suggesting it's been traversed by a wagon of some sort since the last rain. It's a level enough path to allow one to catch one's breath, and while the afternoon's light is starting to filter away, it's not yet so far gone that it's cold. A faint scent of something burning can be detected in the crisp air. Leiventh doesn't much seem to be bothered by being used in such a fashion -- or if he does, it doesn't stir the cold, dark winds of his thoughts to motion enough to protest. Fifteen minutes of not talking: Telavi must be wearied from these past few sevens, physical exertion or no. Here in this open path, her head lifts, scenting the way Solith's might; her ponytail swings as she turns her head, looking. Solith's own nostrils flare, but she stays settled where she is, glimpses of bright this-and-that briefly visible on her mind's breeze; hers is brighter, warmer than Leiventh's dark, but with the nearness, gradually she begins to adapt. The next turn of the path brings them in sight of series of buildings; a waystation that probably serves as a tavern, judging by the noise and light spilling from it, and a few ramshackle miner's huts. Smoke spills from the waystation, and it's towards this building that R'hin leads them. "Play along," is his only instruction before he pushes inside. The heat washes over them almost immediately -- the room is populated, but not packed, and their entrance gets more than a few curious looks. Leiventh's thoughts seem to sharpen a moment, but to focus on Solith, not their riders. « Watch. » Whether command or entreaty isn't clear, and the chillness of his tone isn't enough to determine the difference. Either way, it seems that Solith's used to taking direction; it's perceptible how she pays attention, how Telavi does, the green's breeze more directed than any-which-way-- which isn't to say straight and narrow, even before shock flames her rider's cheeks. That's real; the half-stumble may be too, or maybe it just adds to the verisimilitude, the greenrider coming to a reluctant, knees-braced stop. But when she hisses, "Da!" at him, it's that, and not his name. The grin that R'hin gives Telavi is a mixture of things; partly the feral, furious father role he plays, part pleasure (yes, he's enjoying this), and part anticipation. "Don't 'Da' me," he roars in return. "Which of you inbred hicks deflowered my precious Rosavia?" Dragging is definitely in the cards, though Telavi isn't so unwilling as Rosavia; she makes sure her heels scrape against the floor, even as she pushes at R'hin's shoulder with her free hand. "Da!" she repeats in an agonized wail, because apparently daughters can be defiant in more than one way. "I told you-- what? No!" Sorry, smelly man. "Ugh!" Solith watches, even through the wavery curtain that separates her from her rider, like this is a play put on just for them. There's a gruff noise from the smelly man that suggests he's not well pleased with the obvious rejection. R'hin, not to be put off by Rosavia's protests, drags his daughter along with him to the next table. Here, there's a group of younger men, two of which -- if cleaned up -- might not be half bad looking. "It's one of these, isn't it? You always liked the pretty ones, didn't you?" "Da--" pulls that vowel out long enough to snap. "I didn't. I wouldn't!" When prettier-boy reacts, Telavi gazes at him with eyes wide and imploring beneath her loosened hair. Save her? She might, or at least that's the impression that might be left by her vulnerable pose, even be grateful. « She wants to know, » Solith is easily persuaded to ask of Leiventh, « how much she gets to make things up. » There's an echo of snippets such as, 'Save me!' or 'Don't you hurt him!' « That depends, » comes Leiventh's rumbling thoughts. « On what happens after... » R'hin shifts his gaze from Telavi towards the pretty boy; with a growl, he reaches back a fist and socks the boy full in the face. « ...that. » There's a moment of silence, and then the scraping of chairs as all of his friends stand; the pretty boy groans on the floor. R'hin makes a face, like he's aware they're outnumbered, pushing Telavi back behind him as he starts to back off. "Hey, now, boys..." « Run, » Leiventh tells Solith, simply. That's what R'hin's planning, at any rate, as long as Telavi's ahead of him. There's a gasp; there's a shriek; there are wide-wide-eyes and oh no, "You hurt him!" Telavi declaims-- but that last is while, yes, running. She's quick to try and dodge those who might try to stop her, or stop them, quick as a girl used to dodging random hands... and while she doesn't look back, bemused and just-a-bit-startled Solith notes, « She says to tell me if they catch him. » But they shouldn't, should they? Not R'hin. Or even 'Da.' It's darker outside, though not difficult to find the wide path they came in on, even for the directionally challenged. Still, it is dark, and out here there's not even sparse glow of a basket, only the faint glimmer of Belior to see by. There's more yelling behind them, a bit of scuffle, and R'hin's no more than a couple of steps behind her, an odd kind of glint to his eyes as he speeds up to try and catch up, with all-too-pleased-with-himself, "Having fun yet, little sailor?" The four boys that pour out are used to hard work, though probably not running; they're slower off the mark, but they haven't stopped. He can try to catch up; she ups it a notch, flushed from excitement and exhilaration by now, her eyes brighter yet. "Anchors aweigh!" is her answer, though it's a good thing-- if also for their chasers-- that the track's relatively level as their eyes adjust; she follows the ruts for now, but with an eye for where the track turns up ahead. Where had they left that other path, that climb they'll have to take or else give the game away? Telavi's looking. Perhaps it's not time for much further repartee, not yet, but she's got to ask a not-quite-breathless, "Ever going to go back there?" anyway. She very nearly passes it, in the dark; there's no way they can climb the steep trail they descended on; even if they weren't being chased, the path is too precarious and unstable, especially in the dark. There's just enough light to see the outlines of each other, if perhaps not precise expressions. Still, R'hin's amusement conveys well enough in his voice, "Of course we are," as if that were the entire point. "Keep going," he calls from behind her, "There's an easier path further up." The chase from behind them has stilled somewhat as they mill around in the dark before finding glows to carry with them; the light from them spills across the path, further back. Leiventh's demeanor is all tolerance; used to this sort of thing and taking it in stride, and making no move to rescue their riders. 'We.' Solith takes her cue from the older-and-hopefully-wiser bronze, and so does Telavi, who ducks her head in a nod and keeps going. A wiser girl mightn't look back; she does anyway, over one shoulder-- "What, no hiding in the dark?"-- though... have their chasers all stayed back long enough to get the glows, or is there someone else chasing who hasn't stopped in case Rosavia and her da do just that? From here, Tela's less sprinting than going for distance, scanning the ground ahead as best she can in Belior's light, falling into a pace she might be able to keep up for some time-- if not quite as fast as a month ago. "I'm far too old to hide in the dark," R'hin counters, with a grumbling piece of deliberate overacting. It's, perhaps, fortuitous that she does look back -- she can see the glows rounding the bend further down the path. "Slow down," the bronzerider's saying, "It's here somewhere..." it's a lot harder to find in the dark with people on your tail. Is that it, that lighter patch off to the side? Telavi can spare a laugh, and does, much as she does slow and-- "That it, over there?" pointing as she nears it, never mind that R'hin probably can't see her gesture, veering enough to look... but, despite temptation, not leap. Lighter could mean water. "Too late, just go," R'hin yells, propelling her ahead of him with a little bit of force to her shoulder that's not intended to unbalance her so much as get her moving -- perhaps because of the sounds coming from down the path, nearer to them now. "Quick," he hisses. The path is barely that -- only a vague break in the foliage, slowly but surely twisting and climbing. It's rocky underfoot, but no so much as their steeper descent. Moving. Telavi moves, scrambling upward, grabbing onto that foliage after the first while when it's necessary for balance; hopefully that won't be too much of a giveaway to pursuers, nor any rocks she accidentally kicks downward too detrimental to her closest chaser. One or two of those rocks bounces down behind them -- a soft curse from R'hin follows before he goes abruptly silent, listening. The light's barely visible, filtered through the dark and hopefully concealing foliage, and voices muffled, yet not alarmed -- yet. The path twists steadily upwards, doing a wide, looping circle. The fifteen minutes descent turns into a half hour ascent, but the latter half of which is free of any sign of chase. The glowing eyes of their dragons -- still settled in the rocky clearing -- might well be a welcome relief. It most certainly is, Telavi going so far as to run-- well, 'run'-- to Solith and plaster her arms about what she can reach of the green's chest, the green's pleasure and, let's face it, surprise immediately perceptible. Telavi had been silent once they started uphill, and now she's still more or less silent, shoulders starting to shake with what might be crying-- or, no, make that giddy, breathless laughter. Unless R'hin interrupts, it'll be a couple minutes, after which she'll turn for a better look at the other pair. "Going back, you said. Sailor." R'hin's pace towards his own dragon is rather more languid, and he leans up against the bronze, arms folded, as he watches Telavi's exuberant reunion with Solith. He waits until she speaks, the gleam of his eyes and expression barely visible. With a confirming nod at her question, "We've established both yours and my bonafides as a local miner family. Second, we've established that I have a temper, so that makes it relatively safe for you to go back on your own, if needed. Third, and most importantly, you established that you can handle yourself, even in the unknown." The giddiness hasn't died out entirely, but her own eyes, dark gray in the moonlight, sharpen with clear interest. "For what?" Go back, for what. Handle herself, for what. All of the above. "One should always plant seeds early and often," is all R'hin says as he turns to check Leiventh's straps. "I hope this doesn't involve manure," not-exactly-a-farmer Telavi says for the planting, eyeing his back darkly. "I can't promise that," R'hin says with a distinct amount of humor. "What I can promise is that it won't be boring. Not often, anyway." A beat. "Are you interested?" with an inquiring glance over his shoulder. "I might be," says Telavi, who is. But, "Tell me more, sailor." "Later." She's coy; so is he. "Now, I think a hot bath and a nice glass of whisky would go down well." "In that order?" Telavi promptly inquires, for all that she's narrowed her eyes at him just in case he looks again. "Together, preferably. I'll stop by my weyr, pick up a bottle of something, change into something more appropriate for the Weyr, and head down to the baths." And the only possible reason he could be describing it in such detail would be for it to be an invitation, even if he doesn't say it in so many words. Climbing quickly up onto Leiventh's neckridges, R'hin's, "See you back at the farm," drifts downwards moments before the bronze wings aloft. At that, Telavi pets her hair, her dirtied hair; wryly, "I'll bring a comb. And maybe a bovine." But she's in no hurry to take flight, though Solith certainly is; neither does she stare up at the sky towards where the other pair has disappeared. When they finally do, she encourages the green to between not far at all off the ground; Solith can stretch those wings of hers when they're safely back home. |
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