Logs:Quiet in the Storm
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| RL Date: 12 November, 2012 |
| Who: Brieli, N'rov |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Aishani (Brieli) and N'rov are briefly reunited at Harper Hall (it really hasn't been that long). Vhaeryth makes Iesaryth forget bad things for a bit. |
| Where: Harper Hall, Fort Area |
| When: Day 24, Month 3, Turn 30 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Azaylia/Mentions, N'muir/Mentions, Hattie/Mentions, I'kris/Mentions |
| Harper Hall, Fort Area The venerable quadrangle of the Harper Hall extends from the southeastern angle of the Fort palisade lounging alongside its Healer twin. The three wings that enclose the main courtyard are solidly roofed with orange tile and constructed of sturdy gray stone, the walls kept in good repair by local stonemasons. A wide archway provides entrance into the hall itself, foot traffic relatively busy throughout the day, but tapering off at night. Inside, the courtyard is paved with smooth, flat stones and the walls lined with stone benches where harpers come to sit and rest between classes and duties. The sound of music drifting out of open windows is almost constant, be it played or sung, regardless of the season, though things do quiet down after sunset. Just outside Harper Hall, sandwiched between its northern wing and the southern wing of the Healer Hall, a series of gardens serving culinary, medicinal and decorative puposes are bordered by the cliff wall to the east and open meadow to the west. The hold road travels northward to the hold itself and eventually to Ruatha and the Reaches and in the opposite direction far south to Southern Boll and the Weaver craft. All that turmoil at the distant 'Reaches, again, /still/, while what /Vhaeryth/ has had to contend with is another day of ferrying harpers. And, moreover, of his rider's punching down everything else that's going on with him in favor of not only listening in as much as he's allowed, but taking notes. And trying to sound helpful. And trying to actually /be/ helpful, if only to /get the job done/. It's enough to give a dragon indigestion. Especially since the harpers like to /forget/ things, possibly just because they can. It isn't personal: Vhaeryth's bronze and made to suffer their whims, is the sense he gets, and that's enough. Worse, he can't even snack off the fluffy snacks over there, or even their babies. But finally, finally, it's quiet for a moment and his rider's wanting to know what he wants to know too: « Iesaryth. The coast is clear. The glows are lidded. The ovines are, » getting off-topic just like him. « going to be dead soon. Can you come? » Can she, will she, there's a hill by the Hold that doesn't have /quite/ so much four-footed temptation. He's there. Despite her turmoil, Iesaryth can always be sympathetic to Vhaeryth - even if the level of trauma they each have to contend with is vastly different, there is some shared pain. But tonight, the queen's tides are stronger than usual, waves high under the night's dark sky. She is /there/, present in a way she rarely pushes on others, but it's as if she can't seem to help herself. Though she carries the sense of something sticky-sweet on the winds, mixed with the smoke of Hraedhyth's fires - /Hraedhyth/, who shows no mercy, no care for those that look to her. How would things be if the brawny gold were to take Ysavaeth's place? The winds tug thoughts and the traces of others away, and she agrees immediately. She will come. They will come, and be away from the awful and terrible that has caused her to be so horrified. Before she appears over the Hold to wing down swiftly, « Do not kill the ovines. They are only snacks, really. » So small. « Enough of them will make a meal, » comes the bronze's firm rejoinder. A raft of them, a heaped-high rowboat, a ferry-ful with fleece that's Harper blue. And if she must have them alive... he will not capsize them on her waves on purpose. As for those waves, he'd immediately raised a scrim of safety that should at least slow them lest they crash into the mirror-world... lest glass break despite himself into shards that are every one a knife. To make it clear despite that: « You are welcome. » And... please to not be landing upon his rider, who is not waiting by the fortifications but rather has run out what might be her flight path, waving. Like popcorn, really. ...Blue popcorn. Iesaryth is amused enough to let everything blow away in the winds over the waves and those that rush past her as she lands - not on his rider, as she's mostly in favor of him today. Mostly. She tries to pull back, to gentle herself for Vhaeryth's sake; there's no need to smash the mirrors, or worse, drown them. She's not quite sorry, but apologetic, at least. « Thank you. » She's quick enough about letting her rider down to run to his - if only so she can seek out the bronze herself. As for Aishani, she more or less throws herself into N'rov's arms, her own looped about his neck to kiss him immediately, to murmur after, "Don't ask, please. Just tell me how you are." He's already in the middle of /asking/, reaching for her even as she leaps up, but he holds off the former so they can have the latter. The harpers are distant, there's no music swirling, only Vhaeryth who's more gratified at the not-squashing (not to mention not-smashing or, yes, drowning) than his oblivious rider. He glances down at him, at N'rov who's interspersing things like, "Awful," and "So much better," and "Maybe not grounded but maybe he's framing me," amid those kisses, and then Vhaeryth looks back at Iesaryth and sits back on his haunches with a rustle of dark wings. What /can/ you do. Shani is very much in favor of kisses right now, but when isn't she, really? She's a little more fervent about returning them than usual, as if they'd been parted for months. But then, between a gold flight and whatever's going on at Reaches, it might seem that long. Iesaryth is less interested in their riders - they do this all the time, really - and more interested in settling herself next to Vhaeryth, her own wings whispering as she sits, leans on him, warm. He can entertain her! Not that he doesn't already... All of those things N'rov says demand a response, but it's the last that really make Aishani arch fine brows. "Second time I've heard that today. Who's framing you for... being not-grounded?" She's very very happy he's not right now, given the way she's pressed up against him, finding a smile. All that Iesaryth-leaning comes very welcome to Vhaeryth, not that he'd /admit/ to feeling valued for once: ferrying doesn't count, any dragon could do /that/. She can lean, he'll put an obsidian wing about the whisper of hers, those twin crescent moons nearly optimal for showing off its coppery highlights. It's all very cozy, really. It's also easier to stay grounded with the further whisper of a breeze that hasn't been held back by a Weyr's stone, that carries with it scents of varied greenery and a veritable smorgasbord of... right. Teasingly, « I suppose we shouldn't eat the big ones either, with the horns on. » N'rov, his curly hair now throroughly mussed (if not entirely horn-like) and not appearing to mind in the least, tilts Shani's face back to the moonlight so he can see her when he kisses her again. And again. And then each of those brows, in turn. And then backwards. "/Really/." Not supposed to ask, but curiosity presses into his voice. Though he does add, "N'muir said I can come," if only so he can stifle a boyish snicker in /her/ hair. "Visit you, anyway. /If/ I don't get caught. Can't tell anyone, either." And look. (Vhaeryth, less teasingly: « Do your harpers talk a lot? I must listen for this one, for when he finishes visiting the cothold he thinks he should not be in, we must leave. » ) Perhaps any dragon can ferry Harpers, but there must be a reason for /Vhaeryth/ to do so /specifically/, and that interests Iesaryth; she would have him ferry her if such things were necessary because she enjoys his company. It's possible Harpers pay attention to such things when they are not being listened for. « They all talk a lot, do they not? » People regardless of what they are - Shan almost always has words. When she's not being kissed by Vhaeryth's anyway, smiling wider in the moonlight. Aishani's fingers won't help N'rov's hair any, but they likely feel nice enough for that, even as her smile falters. For curiosity, heavily, "We may... have found the person. Who killed her." No wonder she'd rather focus on his Weyrleader and /that/ little bit of information. Dark eyes widening (and probably ignoring that snicker), "Why... why would he do that? What did you say?" About her, likely. "I won't tell anyone. Can... can you /stay/ if you visit? Not now, but..." She's apparently paying more attention to her dragon than the other way around. And she sounds as if she'd really like that. There's fleeting question, exclamation, has it really been that long? Had she really not known? They'd /caught/, if not prey, a prize that Vhaeryth's encased in glass to make it that much harder to forget: boxes full, little things and big things and breakable things and... to Vhaeryth it's all breakable, really. (Still, there are those half-seen images: dusty fine-lined wood, fancifully-shaped silver, slabs of purified ore that might break /other/ things, more.) It should be final proof, but still there are announcements to be made, and to the winner there certainly /ought/ to go the spoils. Perhaps that fine, colorful rug knotted to human size, but large enough for a dragon to at least get to rest his head. Or hers. When (if) he takes it home, he will permit /Iesaryth/ to share. It lightens N'rov's mood despite his concerned, "Only 'may'?" and if his arms have tightened about her, they must have wanted to do so anyway. "The grounding, that was for catching what the ship left. It's bound to come out soon." It /has/ to. "He couldn't go back on it," though he /could/, "but he knew I wanted to see you... after, I can stay until that's over, until you're safe, Hattie said," and his glance flicks away, upward, towards the watching moons though he hasn't lifted his head. He grimaces. "Minus duties. But you caught him? Her. It doesn't sound like it's made it all better," because he's looking at her, trying to figure it all out again. It only takes Vhaeryth's reminder for Iesaryth to recall, to remember the reasons why they were made to not /go/, to stay, to not see her and hers when things are so... unsettled. It's enough to /re/settle her under that wing of his, her bulk more firmly against him. All those boxes and things are endlessly fascinating to her; the bits and pieces, and why they were where they were, and wasn't he clever to find all of it. And it's a fine rug for the bronze's weyr - and as always, she is touched. « You should have it. » Not only because Iesaryth might like that too, but he should have /something/. Shani confirms, quietly, "May. I don't know if it's something you can ever know, but... I think we're fairly sure. I'll tell you more once... it's gotten around." Not that she minds N'rov holding her tighter - and after he explains, /she's/ looking a bit touched herself, appreciative. "That-- That was very... that was kind of them." Bemused, but not about to argue, she just looks up at him entreatingly, asking, "Stay when you can, then? I'd feel better." Not safer, but it's not all that common anyway. It's also not likely too much longer before Iesaryth will worry about being at home, and Vhaeryth will be called to duty - time that Shani will try to spend convincing N'rov, not that it's exactly a hard sell anyway. No more murder talk for now. |
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