Logs:We Will Be Magnificent
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| RL Date: 6 December, 2008 |
| Who: Cadejoth, Yyth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Cadejoth and Yyth talk flying, flights and silly riders. |
| When: Day 25, Month 5, Turn 18 (Interval 10) |
| To Cadejoth, Yyth smashes into Cadejoth's mind, a burst of light and heat and high screaming sound. « I flew, I flew! I did it, I flew! » The smugness, the pride, rolls off of her like pumping blood, hot and sticky and full of life. « You did? » Cadejoth's delight for his clutchmate is palpable, his coils of chain slinking delightedly, clipping off each other in a metallic melody. « You /flew/! Soon, we'll show you all the good places, I bet. It'll be excellent! » (Cadejoth to Yyth) To Cadejoth, Yyth squirms around happily inside those links of chain, tugging them, rearranging them, pleased. « I did. You will have to, I can't wait. I would like to see your ledge when I can fly again. I can see /my/ ledge now. » To Yyth, Cadejoth allows this, letting them ripple and slide gently - or less gently, if that's what Yyth desires - too pleased to be possessive of them. « I will, » he promises, fervent and delighted, the slight howl in his voice enunciated in his excitement for the green. « Yes - you will have to visit. And I will visit yours, too! Our very own! » To Cadejoth, Yyth preens and then pauses, sliding inwards suspiciously. « Will yours let you come visit? » To Yyth, Cadejoth has nothing to hide: his mind is clear and free and /open/. « Doesn't matter, even if he did! I can do what I like. He's just being silly. » To Cadejoth, Yyth seems satisfied and curls herself in with him, warm and happy and smug still. « Good. They are both being silly. We are friends. » To Yyth, Cadejoth's chains do not so much bind as-- shelter, wrapping about like extra limbs and wings, protective. « They are. And we /are/. I think he worries about me /catching/ you. Not like a game, though. Should I be chasing you, Yyth? » To Cadejoth, Yyth stretches sineously, a deep, subtle thrum starting somewhere low down and rising higher with her contentment. « He means, when I Fly. You can chase me, Cadejoth, if you want. » There is a subtle implication there, she expects him to, hopes he will. The emphasis on the word 'fly' seems to mean something to Cadejoth, like an awakening memory, a sudden understanding. « Did I need your permission? » he wants to know, sounding eager, and stretching in his own, similarly sinuous way - not graceful, but lean, and strong. « I may chase you. If I like. I think I might. » (Cadejoth to Yyth) To Cadejoth, Yyth is at her best now, fully engaged in the conversation. « Perhaps not, but I thought you might like to know I would like it. » She considers, a drag of claws against metal, a grating sound. « When the time is right, you will know. We will be magnificent. » To Yyth, Cadejoth's thoughts ripple at this, like a wind rummaging through his chains, sending them jangling against each other. « It's good to know, » he agrees, not /uncertain/, but thinking. Thinking, thinking. « I bet I will. I bet we /would/ be. And /they/, » their riders, oh, the idiots. « they will deal. » This is probably a yes. To Cadejoth, Yyth grows smugger. « They would. It might be good for yours. I will not be the first green you will want to chase. He can go scrub himself against Uanth's afterwards. » A yawn, a flick of her tail. « What is your ledge like? » To Yyth, Cadejoth points out, after a moment's thought, « But many of the greens I might want to chase will have female riders. He'd like that. » Beat. « But I take your point. Uanth may not want him to. Uanth doesn't like to share. » This is clearly his rider's thought, tempered by distance, but sad. « It is not very big. But the view is nice. And it is /smooth/. I like it. It's /mine/. » To Cadejoth, Yyth caresses him with blood and dusky fog. « Uanth will have to share, if he were to fly me. He will chase too. So will Tausreth. His is not afraid to end up with mine. Why is yours so worried? » She seems unconcerned. « I will see it. Soon. Mine is pleasant as well. There are stone monsters. » To Yyth, Cadejoth is pleased by this, adding in the quiet rattle of bones, as well as the ever-present clink of his chains. « He will learn, » he agrees, not altogether concerned with this; after all, Uanth would be /competition/. « Mine will learn, too. But he does not like yours. He is... » He pauses, as if to try and dredge up this memory, this thought. « K'del finds yours unpleasant. Why do you have stone monsters? Uanth's has--» He projects an image, of /sporks/. « Mine has none of this. » To Cadejoth, Yyth returns the images of her gargoyles, the stone watchwhers standing sentry on her ledge. « Yes, i have heard of the spoon-forks. Uanth is quite pleased with them. » Another flicker. « Mine regrets, a little, using yours to make a point. He is not so unpleasant, he is just... unsure. insecure. Dragons are much better. » To Yyth, Cadejoth is interested, and pleased with, those gargoyles, inspecting them carefully - and delightedly, his tail bounding up and down like that of an overexcited puppy's. « Does he? Is he? I think K'del is-- unwilling to accept it. Him. He wants... I don't think he knows. Dragons are easier. We just /share/, and then we know. » To Cadejoth, Yyth curls protectively around the gargoyles. « You will have to come see them. You could bring yours. They would have to work their differences out. Riders can't fly. They go splat. » Splat. « Sharing is good. I share with you, you share with me. Why don't they just share? » To Yyth, Cadejoth will let Yyth have them: they /are/ hers to begin with, and he's of no mind to steal them. Much. « I will, I will, » he agrees, presumably to both questions. The splat draws laughter - a howling, moon-struck kind of sound, eerie and beautiful, complete with the rattle of bones. « So they would have to talk. Because we wouldn't let them walk away. » He's pleased with this. « I think they need to learn how. They're silly. » To Cadejoth, Yyth is fascinated with this sound. She takes it into her memory, caressing it like something cherished. « Very silly. And once they have made up, we can play more often. We can fly together now. » To Yyth, Cadejoth makes it again, adding in the moons above, to complete the image, himself mostly in shadow. Awooooo. « I think we should play even if they don't want to. And fly - /fly/. We should fly to interesting places together. » To Cadejoth, Yyth cranes closer, adding her own blood-curtling shreik to the mix, a paradox that fits symetrically. « Fly now? » She asks hopefully, though somewhere lurking is the sense of a sore nose and achey wings. To Yyth, Cadejoth is genuinely delighted by the combination of her shriek, and his howl. He's genuinely tempted by her offer/suggestion, but - « No. Tomorrow. When you're not tired. » To Cadejoth, Yyth sighs. She tried. « Tomorrow. » She agrees. « Maybe I'll take a nap now. Good night, Cadejoth. » But tomorrow: that's not so far away! « That's probably a good idea, » he tells her, not /fatherly/, but genuinely concerned, his chains rippling into a soft, almost lullaby-like sound/feeling. « Good night, Yyth. » (Cadejoth to Yyth) |
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