Logs:Surfing as a Life Philosophy
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| RL Date: 17 March, 2015 |
| Who: Eliyaveith, Lilah, Izazeth, X'vae |
| Involves: Fort Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Izazeth invites Eliyaveith to draw in the sand. Lilah comes too and X'vae ends up teaching her surfing 101. |
| Where: A Beach, Somewhere near Monaco Weyr |
| When: Day 15, Month 4, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Beautiful. |
| Mentions: C'stian/Mentions, Hattie/Mentions, M'kris/Mentions, Nala/Mentions, X'sten/Mentions, Xaerista/Mentions, Z'riah/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Everything I know about surfing comes from this article and Lilo and Stitch. Sincere apologies to anyone who actually knows how to surf for anything I got horribly wrong (feel free to tell me so I don't do it again in the future!). |
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| Light that is too white to be sun, but just as warm extends in tickling tendrils toward Eliyavieth. It's a greeting that needs no words. « We are at the beach today, if you should like to try your hand at sand-drawing. » Like the lake, which X'vae obligingly has reminded him of, given the intervening time and the limitations of draconic memory. With his personal invitation is a visualization for a late afternoon Monaco beach, naturally so many hours ahead of their respective homes. The only signs of human habitation is the blanket spread on the sand and held down with pack, basket and two rocks on each respective corner. X'vae is not apparent in the vision, but he wouldn't need to be for the betweening to work properly. (To Eliyaveith from Izazeth) Eliyaveith matches warmth with warmth, her own spilling in delight over Izazeth's for the invitation and assuring at once with a « We will come. » It isn't immediate, however, and in the mean time, she will press against his warmth despite the distance between them physically. (To Izazeth from Eliyaveith) When Eliyaveith does appear in the skies above the unfamiliar beach, it is just slightly less than a half-hour from the invitation. Long enough for her rider to have shed leathers and knots and duties to instead dawn a light sundress. By the look of it when the queen has settled on to the warm sands, it was rescued not so long ago from the back of a wardrobe, wrinkled cream cloth looking as if it was never properly hung up. Lilah slides from her dragon, only pausing to dig into the saddlebags there as Eliyaveith twists an impatient look towards Izazeth, greeting him with a soft warble. Izazeth's warmth retreats, but only in so much as he's focused on what's at hand. There's still a tendril offered out to tether her mind temporarily to his while she's still at a distance. (To Eliyaveith from Izazeth) At first, it might seem Izazeth is all on his lonesome on the beach, but he had said 'we' and doesn't seem the sort of dragon given to imaginary friends, so X'vae must be around somewhere. A few waves later, the bluerider can be seen laying flat on his surfboard, paddling it in toward the shore. Once he's close enough, he finds his feet and drags the board far enough into the sand that the fins and the weight of it together keep it from sneaking back out to sea. He wears a shirt and board shorts of a blue that makes his eyes look more blue today, too. Izazeth's return warbling is already long done by the time the bluerider is raising an arm in greeting, "Weyrwoman Lilah," he calls as he draws closer, "to what do we owe the-- oh," his eyes go to his dragon with a bemused look. "I see." Now that he's been informed and all. The slight coloring of his cheeks can surely be chalked up to sun exposure, can't it? Lilah's treasure is unearthed in short time, a bottle of white wine that remains unlabeled and a gauzy scarf that she didn't dare to wear on the ride between but now wraps around her wrist even as she makes short work of the straps to allow Eliyaveith to slide low along the beach as if she can sneak up on Izazeth and cuddle him by surprise. It leaves the goldrider to catch sight of the bluerider as he comes in on the waves, lips parting a bit in what might be surprise. "I'm sorry," she actually offers as the bluerider's words make it clear that she wasn't expected, at least by the human half of the pair. "If I had known that the invitation wasn't made with--." But she is suddenly interrupting herself to ask, "What are you doing?" "No, no, it's fine," X'vae hastily answers her apology. "I'm early for the get-together, that's all. Zaz's entitled to invite friends as much as any of us." It sounds like he's underinformed about how much his dragon said to the gold. "The rest are bringing the food and drinks in a while yet, but you're welcome to-- well, whatever." He shrugs his shoulders a little helplessly, smile broad and warm. He gestures back to the board, "Surfing. Have you ever tried, ma'am?" He's heedless of the interaction between the dragons. Izazeth might be sneak-up-able if he hadn't been glancing back toward the gold from where he lays near the wash of the water drawing meaningless patterns in the wet sand with his talons. As is, he tries to play along, by only looking at her out of his periphery until she wants to be seen. "There are others coming," Lilah is able to determine from X'vae's words, so sharp. Except that that seems to be a surprise as well, her lips tightening for a moment as she glances down to her wrinkled clothing and then back towards the bluerider. "Ex-wingmates?" To his question, she shakes her head simply, moving past him to inspect the board with a light interest. With Eliyaveith holding herself close to the warm sand, it takes her longer than it would otherwise to reach the smaller blue and lay down beside him, her own claws reaching out to tentatively draw a curve next to his patterns in the sand. "Oh," X'vae has a moment with furrowed brows as he regards the redhead, realizing, and probably consulting with the blue. "Sorry, I didn't realize he hadn't said," his look is really quite bashful for a breath after this. "Let me... start over," he requests, one hand reaching to push through his damp locks, longish today - perhaps in need of a cut. "My sister, and her friends. Some are mine too. Nothing so formal, we just sometimes get together with picnic lunch and do some surfing and swimming and-- whatever." Beach bumming, generally. He turns to follow her movement past him, but doesn't pursue, letting her look at waxed wood. Izazeth, on the other hand, is more hands-- talons? on in his approach of the queen. He's only too happy to lean toward her and wordlessly demonstrate a number of different ways to create strokes in the sand using different parts and pressures of the talons on his forelimbs. Lilah's dark eyes study the board, but not without a slid look over X'vae when she thinks he isn't paying attention, a subtle thing that manages to be sharply observant despite not lasting long. "Is your sister a dragonrider as well? Is it a family thing?" she questions, though she does seem to relax somewhat at the explanation of who is coming and the formality of the event. "It isn't your fault. I should have had her ask, but she was eager to come." Her gaze lifts to the paired dragons now, shaking her head in brief dismissal before she glances to the bluerider again. Eliyaveith is content to lean into Izazeth and allow him to teach her, sensitive paws very deliberate in copying his movements but not going out of her way to make her own. "Ha," is not a sound of mirth, but more the only syllable that manages to escape when her question takes X'vae by surprise. His look isn't often guarded, but it's especially unguarded now, something troubled there. "She isn't yet, but she'll Stand for Monaco. When the time comes. It's something of a family thing, but my mother is a healer," he adds almost hurriedly. "Xaerista is seventeen," he adds, "So most of the people coming... well, you could say I'm a chaperone," more than part of the crowd. The blue is content enough for a time to let her simply copy, but finally his talons curl into disuse and he looks at the gold, a teasing edge to his mindcurrent. Go on then, it says without saying. Lilah's lips curve into the barest hint of a smile, explained as she asks in dry humor, "What am I, then? An old auntie? If you are old enough to be a chaperone." Perhaps he just seems a lot younger than his age, or the goldrider is feeling her own age given her recent turnday. There is a silence as dark eyes rest on X'vae, thoughtful, before the goldrider remembers the wine in her hands. "I brought wine. Eliyaveith shared that there was a picnic blanket, and I thought--. Well." The bottle is offered towards the bluerider. A rumble of amusement vibrates cleanly through the gold, teasing met with only a lightness as she finally moves to make her own mark that isn't a copy of his but genuinely hers. It doesn't have meaning or make anything clear, but it is there and hers, her thoughts edging territorial over it. The immediate wrinkle in X'vae's brow is proof that he doesn't mean it as a charming throw-away when he says, "You can't be older than I am," with an added, questioning, "Twenty-five?" He glances to the wine, though doesn't take it, before moving to the backpack. "I've a couple cups and some rations," which should, in the use of the word, explain the content of what he has - probably dried fruits, nuts, and jerky. He crouches to produce these items and place them as offering to balance her own at the center of the blanket with some cheese and bread, explained with a lopsided, amused grin, "In case the younger ones forget they're supposed to bring lunch with their booze." Izazeth is interested. It's entirely possible to hear the excited way he mentally measures out the distance, depth and orientation of each stroke that is uniquely hers. He's memorizing it, cataloging it, tagging it with her name. Then, then, he'll try to recreate it. It will take several tries (if he gets past the first one) to get it approximate enough to his satisfaction. Overall, he's very pleased with her. "Just turned twenty-seven," answers Lilah, her words a quiet murmur as she considers X'vae again at his age. "I feel insanely old sometimes, though, Like I have been paired with Eliyaveith forever and that everything--." She stops, catches herself. And for a moment, it is her turn to flush with color as she dismisses her own words with a shake of her head and the sudden bustle of movement that brings her to the blanket and the spread there. She folds herself neatly onto her knees, placing her wine with the rest. "How did you learn to surf?" Eliyaveith's brightness is exhibited in flames, merrily dancing in amusement as he recreates her own mark. Those flames are traced in her next pattern, some stylized version of them that she's likely seen before. It isn't perfect, not as she starts to get used to this expression. Once done, though, she nuzzles expectantly against Izazeth's neck, the gesture already overly familiar. "Twenty-seven," X'vae repeats, turning his head to look at the goldrider and do a similar weighing of the woman against her age. "I think twenty-seven is going to be a good age to be," he volunteers. "I think the kind of love that hits us when we find our lifemate is the kind of thing that is timeless. It never feels older than when it was new and it never feels as young as it is, and even forever together is not enough time." There's warmth and obvious affection in his voice when he say it, his blue gaze going to his brilliantly hued lifemate. "I learned when I was a boy at Monaco. It's pretty popular among the 'brats there. Have you ever tried?" He seems readily willing to change topics, at least until he says, "Not that you have to, but so you know, you can say whatever you like here. There's no one here but the beach and me to hear you, and I'm not going to judge. Goldriders wear the weight of the world on their shoulders, and sometimes they just need to take it off for a moment or two so they can go on carrying it later. I get that," he says it in a way that all but assures he has some personal experience being the sounding board for goldriders. Even so, he seems prepared to drop it entirely as he looks to the board. Izazeth's excitement doesn't wane for even a moment. Every new pattern is a new discovery and it's treated with (in)appropriate, scholarly zest and zeal and treated to the same process of memorization and replication. He's equally affectionate, having no qualms and there's a sense that such physical intimacy is a part of his everyday life, and a feeling of sunshine that's borrowed along with the name of the dragon to whom this particular light belongs, Yizibeth. Lilah's smile returns in a soft shadow on her lips, her chin dipping in a measured nod before she replies slowly, quietly, "It does feel like the weight of the Weyr. The entire responsibility of our future and generations of dragons that will be shelled from our dragons." A pause, before the goldrider continues with a lightness that does little to alleviate her true feelings as she says, "But, who is to say that I can trust you? If not to judge, then not to gossip or tell others or-- The other myriad of things that we have to be concerned about." She glances, briefly, to Eliyaveith there in the sand, before she pushes back to her feet in a sudden decision. "Show me? If I do anything embarrassing, you can't laugh. Then maybe I will know if I can trust you." Regardless of her rider's glance, Eliyaveith is absorbed in this play, in sharing with Izazeth. She basks in Yizibeth's sunshine, matching it for brilliance but not attempting to outshine it as she makes stylized strokes to mimic a symbol of a sun that she draws from her rider's mind. « Yizibeth, » she labels this one, and doesn't claim it as her own. The smile that comes when she speaks of trust is both understanding but also tempered with humor. "Happy to show you," the bluerider chooses to say first, rising from his squat, "I even have Ris' board, which ought to suit you better than mine. Lengthwise." There is a bit of a difference between their heights. "But," one side of his mouth quirks up into an involuntary smile, "The thing is that I can't promise not to laugh. I won't laugh at you, because we were all beginners once, but laughter is medicine for what's here," a fist taps his chest, roundabouts his heart, though the sense is something bigger than just that particular organ. "Joy shared is twice joy and sorrow shared is twice sorrow. I won't tell you what to think of me, but I will say I won't repeat what you don't want repeated, and time will tell the truth of that. In the mean time, let's surf." He suggests, waiting for her say so before moving (at a jog) to fetch Xaerista's presently unused board from where it's leaned against one of the trees on the treeline. « My clutchmate, » Izazeth relates warmly. « We live together, on our ledge, in our weyr. We used to live side by side. But we have always lived near. She is lovely and kind. » He does not say smart even if he might argue that she is, in her own way. « She is my best-friend, as her Z'riah is X'vae's. » "I can't promise not to drown you," drawls the goldrider in an idle, dry threat in counter, but a smile does pull briefly at the corners of her lips before she nods in simple agreement to surfing. While he retrieves the board, she moves to take off her shoes, leaving them at the blanket, while she watches him thoughtfully. It is only after a moment, then two, that she moves to join him. "What do I have to do?" Eliyaveith listens attentively to Izazeth, warmth reflected even as she idly inscribes a symbol of lightning in the sand near her own flame, this marked neatly in her mind as a shadow of a blue. « My clutchmate, » she indicates. « His rider was the only one she ever liked. But they are in Southern now. » There is an obvious disapproval there, sadness, before she explains to add, « Brothers and sisters should not separate. It is good that you are still with yours. » "If you feel I've warranted it at any point, you're welcome to try," X'vae answers the idle threat with a grin, "But it's only fair to warn you that I was the guy who pulled out the littles who got in over their heads on the beaches at home." Nigh undrownable, probably. It'd be a challenge in the least. The grin, the exchange, there's an added something to his smile, something that has bridged the formality of their acquaintance for at least that moment. That something retreats as he gets down to business, laying the board on the sand and moving to pull his up alongside. "We start here." In the sand. "You're a good swimmer?" He questions as he drops down to lie on his stomach on the board at the appropriate place. What makes Eliyaveith sad makes Izazeth sad, too, or at least empathetic. « Yizibeth is the only one. The rest are near here. At Monaco. I miss them often. Will your clutchmate not return? » He queries with concern. « Can you visit him at Southern or is it not allowed because your coloring makes your visitation an event wherever you go? » That is the way of it with queens, is it not? He seems to think so. Lilah's nose wrinkles in a soft, quick gesture for X'vae's answer, though humor warms dark eyes in that exchange before she offers, "I will manage. We are supposed to be able to figure out solutions to any problem, after all." She nods to the questionable, though she admits, "I am a reasonable swimmer." She watches him on the board, her study marking every angle of his body but not moving to copy it; waiting for instruction. Eliyaveith's warmth only fades more at that question, explaining first with a « The queens of Southern are family. » Which apparently means, in her mind, that there is no reason that she can visit whenever she wants. « But. » But, but, but. All the blame has already been placed in the direction of her rider, that red-gold gem that resides inside of her, as well. « She fought with his rider. There are not many that she does not fight with. » That serves as a warning too, dragon to dragon. "I have no doubt of your creativity," X'vae's lips pull at a corner to slant his close-lipped smile. A nod for her swimming ability; these things are important to know but the answer is sufficient to not warrant lingering on. "You'll spend a lot of time on your board like this. Paddling, picking your wave. It's only when the moment is right that you pop up and ride it." Paddling gets a demonstration and so does the pop up. He repeats the pop up, a smooth flex of muscles from push up position on the board directly onto his feet, right pointed forward and left to the side, sunk low for better balance, before gesturing her to the slightly shorter board to give it a try. Izazeth is quiet, considering what Eliyaveith has said, possibly even conferring with X'vae, before he responds and his light is gentle. « Fighting is part of loving, part of caring. Love and caring are part of family and family is not defined by blood. » There is sadness that is not his own, but his rider's, when he adds, « Sometimes blood is a shackle. Sometimes those who share your blood are not those who love you best. » With hope, he adds, « They will work it out, somehow, if it can be worked out. If it should be. » Sometimes, there are things that should not be. There isn't much that Lilah can do about the wrinkled, cream-colored sundress, but the skirts are hitched, briefly, as she settles onto the board in a good enough mimic of his position. Yet, they get in the way of the pop up when she attempts to copy that as well, a combination of the balance of the board and those skirts landing her back on her ass for a moment with an escaped curse. "That is harder than it looks," is what she eventually ventures, cheeks flushing, as she casts a considering look to the board before laying back down on it. "And this is all you do? Stand up on this board when you're on a wave?" Eliyaveith's answer holds some measure of disagreement, made firmer still by the assessment of blood as a shackle. « Family is Family. Family has a duty to each other, to support each other and protect each other. Fighting each other does not do any good. » She draws a firm, meaningless mark in the sands, mostly a flex of dangerous claws that comes with a protective ferocity that suddenly infuses the gold's thoughts. « You love your clutchmate best, as you should, » she reasons, see. She agrees to the last, « It will work out. » X'vae's eyes flick toward the dragons, his expression briefly darkening before he's directing his gaze back to Lilah, reaching to offer a hand if she'd like it to help her back to her feet. "It takes some practice. Harder in the water than on the beach. The rush is in the ride. Falling off sucks, but the next wave is always a chance to redeem yourself." He could be talking surfing or general life philosophy. His eyes drift to the dragons again. Izazeth's mind colors with concern. He doesn't mind disagreeing, but this... this is important. « What if one's family has done unforgivable things? What if they would have the same of you? Perhaps not in one single act, but in many small acts over time that would make you not the person you are? What if they would wish you to be thoughtless, selfish and cruel? » There is one last attempt to pop up from the board, better this time than last in that Lilah only wobbles briefly before she reaches out to catch X'vae's hand and steady herself. She steps off the board then, back onto the beach even as a triumphant smile catches on the corners of her lips. "I suppose I could see how that would be. Like riding a dragon, but faster and more-- yourself," she replies slowly. She remembers, delayed, to pull her fingers from the bluerider's, using them instead to push back a curl behind her ear as she offers, "Thank you. For showing me. I think if I actually tried in the water, I'd only hurt myself, though." Izazeth's questions aren't met with an immediate answer, but the smoldering thought that the queen pours over them. « They would need to be shown the errors of their ways. » But, even Eliyaveith knows that that does not always work, and she doesn't leave it at that. « Perhaps they would need to be distanced from, but they are still Family, » she half-agrees, instead. "It is a bit," X'vae agrees with the first. "It's not for everyone," he allows, but a small smile makes itself known, "but I've no doubt if you put your mind to it and were differently attired, you could make a good go of it. There's no shame in choosing to spend your time otherwise, but quitting after only two tries, on the sand no less..." There's a gently teasing edge to the bluerider's voice. If he noticed the delay in dropping his hand, there's no sign of it in his demeanor. Nor does he look toward the dragons again, some slight tension in his frame relaxing, as is echoed by Izazeth both physically and mentally. « For one such as you, such a thing might be easily done. For me, for us... We're just blueriders. The world does not work that way, » yet. It's sad but true. « It may be the only reason X'vae has ever felt even the smallest wish that I were bronze instead. Though, most bronzeriders we know give ample reason to be glad we are blue, » and therefore not of their ilk beyond the similarities that form and gender naturally assure. A brow curves upwards at that teasing challenge, Lilah's chin tipping up in a stubborn gesture as she commands with her own gently dry edge, "Ok then, show me what is next, bluerider." There is an efficiency to the way she gathers her skirts again, but this time she ties them off together in a knot against her upper thigh, apparently not bothered with the amount of legs revealed as she does. "Do we go into the water?" « Such a thing, even for a queen--. I would not use power to do that. It would not be a true change, and it would not be if you were bronze, either, » Eliyaveith replies gently, nudging herself against the blue and radiating a pleasure in the color of his hide even if it isn't bronze. « She often wishes I were green, instead. » But it is followed with a silent dismissal, only occasionally and never serious, it seems, in the gold's mind. "X'vae, or Xev," the bluerider answers with a smiling request. It might be a little at odds with the fact that he then says, "We do go in the water, Weyrwoman," before crouching to collect only her board and tuck it under an arm to turn and calmly walk into the surf, letting the board float on its own as they get deeper, trusting she will follow him. He slows his pace when he gets thigh deep, and turns toward her to ask, "Go to where the water just begins to touch your stomach." He has to wait to follow her lead there given the disparity in their height. Izazeth considers, « For such crimes against dragonkind, I would gladly take the swift change, even if it were not a true change. True change would be better, of course, but for some, they can no more change their ways than we can change the color of our hides. » There's a pause before he shares his amused aside, « X'vae would wish you green instead, too. Not that you're not perfect just as you are, only that goldriders... » He trails off; does she-- do they have much experience with the Monocoan goldriders? The wonder is left in place of an end to his sentence. "Lilah," offers the goldrider in turn, allowing that as she follows his instructions. Her arms remain above the water, kept there even as she wades deeper and then turns to face him as soon as the water has hit her stomach, that cream-colored cloth plastering quickly against skin. (At least it isn't wrinkled anymore.) "Which do you prefer? Xev? Xev, do not let me drown, ok." Eliyaveith's answer is as silent as the question, a simple hole where she has no experience with the Monocoan goldriders, beyond what rumors her rider may have heard. It is his earlier statement that brings concern, a worried question of, « Crimes against dragonkind? » If X'vae is distracted by the clinging of the fabric, he covers it well. "I like them both. Xev is what I was called before Zaz, and X'vae is the name he gave me. They're both special, in their way." This is probably the easier question to answer so he does it first. Then he offers her a reassuring smile. "No goldrider is going to die on my watch," there's something almost grimly determined there, but given High Reaches' history, that can't be surprising. "No Lilahs either," he adds a beat later with a return of his warm smile, sliding the board into place between them. "Pull yourself up onto the board so you're lying on your stomach like you were in the sand. I'll hold it. Makes it easier in the beginning." And he does, steadily. Izazeth is unhappy now. He sounds pained, feels pained, even though his words are barely a whisper, and more a thought, « A whole wing, torn from their home. Simply because they were politically inconvenient. » Or that's how he sees it. « Forced away for no punishable crime. » It's despicable, the thought is so strong that he doesn't need words. "Lilahs certainly appreciate that," she answers in the third person, even as she shimmies carefully onto the board. It is likely only accomplished because of him holding it still for her, her movements unpracticed enough that if he weren't, it would have likely gone flying away from her by now. Only once she's settled herself on does she offer, off-handed, "I like X'vae." But then she looks to him expectantly, waiting for further instructions. Pain brings warmth and attempt to comfort from the queen, mirroring Yizibeth's bright sunshine with her own as she agrees, « No goldrider, no queen should force away their own Family. Force anyone from their home. » There is a pause as Eliyaveith nuzzles at Izazeth, offering, « We think of the Weyrs as ours, » and there is a shadow of that feeling shared, that territorialness that is almost part and parcel with being a gold, « but it is not only ours. And home would not be home without each other. » "It's a good name," says the one named X'vae. "Others have certainly ended up with far worse. I'm fortunate." The bluerider's hand then let go of the board without warning or instruction. After a moment, he says, "Float til you're comfortable floating, and then try paddling a bit, like you're swimming but just with your arms. You can try sitting on it, too. I'll hold the board if you like, the first time." Izazeth appreciates the comfort of the suns, different and yet similar. « No bronze, either. » That's glum, then he mentally moves on. « I need that. For a gold to do that. I have had to change where I think of home. Without a strong queen, I do not think I could have done it. » Lilah is content to float for a moment, getting used to the waves beneath her that rock the board subtly as she studies the bluerider with a sweep of dark eyes as he lets go of the board. Without any sudden movements, she doesn't tip or fall, at least. Then, carefully, without requesting his help, she moves to sit up. That, at least, it seems she can do as well, as she offers a bright smile to X'vae. "Maybe I don't need you after all," is teasing, rather than serious. "Though, I guess I do not know what comes next." Eliyaveith's agreement comes easily, almost a whisper of heat as she replies, « Changing your home must be hard. » It is certainly nothing that the gold has ever experienced, nor does she seem to plan to. There is a quick picture there, her birth at Fort and her death at Fort, when Lilah is old and grey. The bluerider's smile is steady in the face of her teasing. "I find friendships are better formed on a basis of wanting than needing, anyway," X'vae's baritone takes on some of her teasing in turn. "Paddling. You can do a bit like that, if you like, but starts to strain the shoulders and it tempts the waves to tip you. Stomach is easier to start with." He doesn't reach for the board, simply watches, perhaps he trusts that if she wants his help, she'll ask. Izazeth considers, « It is not easy, » though that may not be the same thing as being hard. « I suspect it is harder for some than others. Yizibeth was unhappy. She came for Z'riah. Z'riah came for X'vae. Yizibeth doesn't like the cold and misses our beaches here. » "Are we forming a friendship here?" is what Lilah counters, half of a challenge as she continues to watch the bluerider, her attention focused on him even as the waves lap at the board. She doesn't lie down again, yet, only steadying herself with fingers in the water that isn't quite a paddle. « The beaches are nice, » agrees Eliyaveith, radiating the heat of the sand under her. « But it must also be nice to be so close. » There are certainly some clutchmates that the gold would like to live with, but that is something that Lilah would not allow. "Would you rather we didn't?" X'vae answers question with genuinely curious question, regarding the redhead. "We can do whatever you want," he answers more directly after a moment of looking at her, "But I have to say it's going to be a little weird for me to explain to my sister and her friends why I decided to make their boozy beach party into an act of foreign diplomacy. Much easier to explain if you're my friend." He doesn't seek to rush her to move, even if the rocking swell of the ocean under her means he has to take steps every few moments to keep from the pair of them ending up out of talking distance. « It is. It made the transition easier. In Monaco, we do not live in rock. Yizibeth and I could see each other from our homes there. It is nice to not have rock between us even where we call home now. They were fortunate to find a weyr that fit us all. » Then, curiously, « Who would you choose to live with, or near, if you could? » If it were her choice alone. Lilah shakes her head, a soft, simple gesture that will have to stand in the place of an answer for that, because she does not verbalize any. Instead, she only ends up offering, "I imagine it will be a little weird to explain my presence either way. Luckily you can blame that, at least, on our dragons." Her gaze draws back to the pair of gold and blue on the beach, thoughtful as she watches Eliyaveith with the smaller dragon, before she finally moves to lay back on the board and start to paddle away. Start to, but she doesn't accomplish much with fighting against the waves. Impressions, images, are shared rather than words. Taking the shape of a scarred bronze that is her own age, an oversized blue, and then Elaruth, the pale, older queen identified by the maternal connection between them. « Where do you live, if not rock? » she questions, curiously. « It would not protect you from Thread. » The way X'vae lets his head fall a little to one side and then the other and back, along with a wiggle of his broad shoulders indicates both agreement and disagreement at the same time. "A little, yeah, but not so weird. Certainly less weird if I can say, 'This is my friend, Lilah,' than if I say, 'This is Lilah who has no intentions of being friends with me, but is here for the picnic anyway,' though why I'd go into that much detail with teenagers who probably don't really care anyway..." The bluerider grins unapologetically for taking it that far to begin with, his eyes tracking her progress (or lack thereof). Izazeth appreciates the images and inquires names to pair with the faces (not that he'll probably remember if he ever meets them, but it's the thought that counts!). « They call them bungalows, » he explains as an image is conjured of the airy structures in which the Monacoans live, not so different from those at Southern. « The grubs protect the continent from Thread, so we only have to protect our part. The part that is inhabited. It's not like the northern Weyrs where one must protect everywhere. » Thread is certainly a topic of interest to him. Lilah gives up on her paddling with a laugh, letting the waves lap her back to where she begun (that little bit of distance), before she moves to sit back up again carefully. It is only once they are back to being almost level that she allows, "Then I suppose you can call me your friend." Her lips curve into an unbidden smile, helpless in the face of such a grin. She admits, only after, "I do not have very many friends. My fault, really, but most people are--. Well." She shrugs a shoulder upwards. Bungalows, those Eliyaveith recognizes from Southern, but she still marks them with interest and a certain disdain. She likes her rock and stone home, apparently, even if it doesn't come with beaches. « For now, none of us need to protect anywhere, yet. Not until Thread falls again, » she replies. « We protect Pern from other things, and wait. Pass on knowledge to the next generations. » There is a hint of sadness at that thought, her warmth drawing into herself slightly. "Not your type?" X'vae hazards a harmless guess toward what people are. One hand casts out, meaning to catch hold of the edge of the board and allow himself to sink down into the water that is really still only up to his waist, seeking to fold his arms and rest them lightly on the front end; it shouldn't impact her balance, but it'll let him float long with her as the lazy swell on this section of beach begins to drive them shore-ward. Izazeth likes the bungalows, but there's nothing wrong with the rock of his weyr either. « The Interval is a time when partnerships change. During a Pass, our riders assist us in protecting; now, the things that need protecting are things only our riders can do. » The blue contemplates that a moment before concluding, « But I do not feel useless. I am happy to support him. Are you? Happy? » It's a quiet asking, gentle as the rest has been, though now his ethereal light offers a brush of comfort if she likes, or simple presence that she might not be alone if space is what she desires. "Yes," agrees Lilah simply, falling silent as dark eyes brush over the man she's collected on her board, studying him yet again as if trying to figure out the friendly person here. As if there must be something hidden there, that she isn't seeing. « There was a time that I wasn't, » Eliyaveith recalls from her rider's memories, an aching emptiness following her flight. « And there are times with her... » But, she buries herself in his comfort, projecting her own final conclusion of being happy here and right now. X'vae's blue-today eyes meet Lilah's evenly, his head tilted back a bit, along with the rest of him, his legs extended under and parallel to the board now. "You can ask me anything you like. Or just look at me, though I find one tends to get more answers with questions. Though my mother and sister have tried for turns to foster it in me, I still don't know how to read any mind other than Izazeth's," he relates with false regret. "Sometimes, Z'riah's, too, but in those times, I think anyone who's met him is just as likely to be able to know what he's thinking." The words are as affectionate as if he might be speaking of his sister. "Where are you from, Lilah?" He'll dare ask a question, perhaps just to set the tone for more of the same. Izazeth is quiet, as empathetic as a non-egg-carrier might be, and at least understanding in the sense he understands there is sadness there beyond his understanding. « I am glad. » For the here. For the now. He is, too. Here, now, happy. A hint of a smile appears in the corners of Lilah's mouth, gone before she answers dismissively, "A beasthold in Keroon. We had more animals than people; we weren't a large hold by any means." Her own question draws more thought, a pause as she considers what to ask. Eventually, it is only a simple, "It's only you, your sister and your mother? No dragonriding father or brothers? Since I assume you grew up in Monaco, learning how to surf and sun tan." It seems Eliyaveith is happy enough to leave it at that, her claws flexing in marks against the sand again as she draws what anyone would recognize as a children's doodle of a happy face. "What kinds of animals?" X'vae queries. He could almost certainly choose a more probing question, but the nature of the one he chooses is like a first dance with a new partner at a gather. It's something easy, something that should be in a reasonable comfort zone that doesn't demand deep disclosures too soon. "Don't forget swimming. That was pretty integral as things go for growing up in Monaco." The man adds with playful importance. "Dragonriding father," he answers after a moment, "my parents aren't together. My father's from a FishCraft family. The rider tradition is on my mother's side." He supplies the answers openly enough, though concisely. "Xaerista's the only full-blooded sibling, though there are a couple halfs around, raised by their mothers." Izazeth settles against the gold, his head settling on the warm sand that is so nice. He's amused by her smiley face, but soon enough he'll be dozing, such is his degree of comfort. "Caprines, mostly. We had a few ovines, and some porcine, but those we kept for ourselves," Lilah replies, her fingers lifting to comb at curls that have started to go damp where the ocean spray touched them as she lay on the board. It's a self-conscious gesture, even as she continues, "They were everywhere. Everything always stank of them, including ourselves. And they didn't like being told they couldn't be somewhere. Stubborn beasts." A smile returns as she agrees, however, "And swimming. Yes. So many talents from growing up at a Weyr." A pause, before she asks, "Did you like growing up here? Didn't ever wish to be somewhere else?" There is something protective in the way Eliyaveith curves around Izazeth as he settles in to doze, remaining alert and awake for him though the comfort of another dragon, of sand and sun, eventually turn alert and awake into a doze on the gold's part as well. "Caprines," X'vae considers. "Interesting," he decides. "We should be glad that dragons smell good. Or if not good, at least not bad, most of the time. I'd imagine the beasts aren't much different than we or most dragons. No one really likes being told they can't be somewhere if it's where they want to be, or even just where they happen to be." He shifts a little and curves a mischievous smile up at her, squinting a little in the bright light of the sun. "For example, what if I told you I was about to take your place on the board and you couldn't stay?" He doesn't actually say so, and he doesn't move, yet. The rest goes unanswered for the moment, but it's likely not forgotten, just on hold for this more pressing exchange that might end up with a drowning goldrider-- except, no, he promised. Lilah's hand immediately falls to curve around the edge of the board protectively, even as she offers a challenge in the way of a careless, "I would say that you can try," which is rather brave, considering that she is the one who is new at this. "But if you do, I will try and drown you in turn." She waits tensely, expectantly, but there is an edge to the way she does that is playful rather than stressed. Competitive, even, as she watches the bluerider's movements. "Stubborn," X'vae observes with a teasing click of his tongue. "What if I ask nicely to share the board with you?" He counters with raised brow and winning smile. "I would ask what's in it for me," Lilah counters in their hypothetical conversation, a mock-stubbornness to her expression in the face of that winning smile, pretending to be unimpressed with it. "Answers to your questions," which, truly, X'vae would give anyway, were they not so delayed by their bargaining over positions. Positions that, in the grand scheme, will only matter for minutes more at most given the way that the ocean is nudging them shallower and shallower. "I might even think about paddling us out there," a nod toward where the the swells are higher and beyond to where it's deeper and calmer. Lilah's gaze slides thoughtfully to where X'vae has indicated, tipping her chin in a slight gesture of agreement, though when she looks back to the bluerider, it is only to add, "Well, I have not heard you ask nicely yet." "Lilah," X'vae says her name as though he might ask her something much more serious than what follows (though it, too, is given undue gravity), "May I please share the board with you? I'm turning wrinkled before my time." Not that this is likely an uncommon occurrence for one with so many aquatic hobbies. "I suppose you may, X'vae," Lilah answers in turn, as if granting him a favor much more involved than simply letting him join her on a board that isn't even her own. She doesn't shift, though, unsure how to settle herself on the board so that they can share it, and instead waits for him to direct her as necessary. "Slide back just a bit," X'vae recommends, waiting for her to be settled, "And you'll want to lean a little bit away from me when I press up onto the board. You'll feel it." He seems sure of that. He looks to her for some sign that she's ready before he places his palms on the board and presses up, quite close to her knee, swinging one leg over so the board tips and then tips back under his weight. If everything has gone well, they ought to be face to face, knees nearly touching, but with space between them on the board itself. If it's gone poorly... well. Anything could happen. It goes poorly. That's likely Lilah's fault, that she doesn't lean away, she doesn't feel the correct moment. Even as the board tips from the unbalance, there's an attempt on the goldrider's part to catch at X'vae, as if that will stop her from falling off the board though it likely does nothing, at least it means that she can't start drowning. In that shallow water that she gets dumped into. She pushes to her feet, laughing despite her earlier warnings, and suggests, "Ok, let's-- try that again? You should probably get on first and then tell me how to." To X'vae's credit, he makes a save attempt, leaning to reach after her which does nothing more than end him up in the water next to her. He shakes his head vigorously to clear some of the water from his face and hair, but he doesn't laugh. He does grin, widely, and again without apology. His mouth opens to answer when a bugle from above captures his attention. In the sky high above, moving into position to land on the beach is a trio of dragons, a green and two browns. There is apology when the bluerider looks back to Lilah, "My sister and her friends. Want to get dried off? I've got an extra shirt, if you like. Your dress should dry quickly in the sun." They may all be weyrbred (those arriving and X'vae), and they probably wouldn't care if Lilah stayed in the soaked clingy fabric or if she stripped down and waited for it to dry, but there's informal, and there's intimately informal, so this is just good manners. The gold dozing on the beach peels one eye open for those arriving dragons, warbling a warm greeting for all that they are strangers, but she only seems to curl all the more protectively around Izazeth rather than inviting the dragons to join them. Lilah flushes at the reminder, at the arrival of the teens perhaps, but she is quick to nod and accept the offered shirt with a "Yes, please." It may not be much better of a picture to meet his friends in his shirt, but it at least leaves more to the imagination than the other two options. It might be noted that X'vae offering at all means he has a pulse and is a red-blooded man after all because he must have noticed in order to offer. He isn't, however, leering, not even a little as they make their way back onto the sand, X'vae pulling the board to safety before heading for his pack to dig out the promised shirt, which is probably big enough on Lilah to nearly be a dress of its own, if a very, very short one. He offers over, too, his towel, which might serve her as a skirt for the time being, since he doesn't seem to be bothered by letting himself sun-dry. He leaves her with their dragons (presumably so she can have some privacy to change in if she's inclined to take the dress off to dry it faster) for a moment while he jogs to meet the disembarking eight people. The slight blonde that throws her arms around him must be Xaerista and indeed, they look enough alike to be siblings. The rest are guys and girls around the same age ranging from sixteen to twenty or so, but none so old as their chaperones. Once the dragons are unloaded and introductions made, X'vae takes the role of responsible adult and sets out the lunch on the picnic blankets that have become plural with the new arrivals as they largely strike out for the water, some with boards and some just to swim. Ris and a girl of about sixteen with dark hair and dark eyes linger to chat with the goldrider, though neither seems especially fazed by the fact that she's a goldrider. They're more interested to hear about Fort, what it's like there, what the bronzeriders are like there, and any other cute boys of note. The bemused smile from X'vae as he glances over from his work shows that he certainly won't hold it against Lilah if she elects to 'be needed at home' quite suddenly. Lilah does strip out of that dress, leaving it drying against gold hide as if Eliyaveith were just an overgrown rock. She follows after X'vae after a measure, allowing herself to be drawn into that conversation about Fort and its bronzeriders with a dry amusement of her own. Dark eyes meet blue as she offers a subtle smile over to X'vae even in the middle of her conversation with the teenage girls, but she doesn't leave. Instead, she seems content to stay for as long as her time allows. |
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