Logs:Cave In, Dragon Perspective
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| RL Date: 2 April, 2015 |
| Who: A'rist, Alida, Azaylia, Ghena, H'kon, H'vier, Irianke, K'del, K'zin, Leova |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: During the cave in, the dragons react. |
| When: Day 5, Month 6, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| To local dragons, Cadejoth projects « What was that? » Cadejoth's thoughts are agitated; alarmed. « What just happened? » To local dragons, Rasavyth is still, too still. He might as well be a statue. What indeed, is echoed sentiment without words, concern lancing through with his oozy thoughts. « Boom. » Lythronath is helpful. (To local dragons from Lythronath) Pain mixes with smoke, a sharp thing that comes from the foreign dragon in the infirmary in the wake of that shaking. But Etrevth doesn't have an answer for Cadejoth, or an answer for anyone. (To local dragons from Etrevth) Just as Hraedhyth is getting comfortable, there's a stutter of her drums at the feeling. The rumble is ominous, low, « I do not know. » To her mate, and to the rest of her tribe. (To local dragons from Hraedhyth) To local dragons, Ilicaeth projects « He might be somewhat irked, still, by the Weyrleader, but Ilicaeth's a stalwart soldier, and chimes in to the bronze, « Dunno. Heard 'em both. » While he's not worried, the blue is definietly alert, and inquiring of enough other dragons. » To local dragons, Niahvth projects « The Weyr is shaking. » Shit. Placid, brooding queen be damned. « The Weyr is shaking. » Alert on the sands, even moreso than usual now, watching over the previously dozing dam and their clutch, Reisoth does not ask the obvious question, but he does wait for answers. Who has answers! (To local dragons from Reisoth) Her talons rake stone, finding its vulnerable soft spots... or deceptively jagged spots... and catching. Static. (To local dragons from Vrianth) To local dragons, Arekoth is suddenly not on the rim, where he'd been watching the Weyr. He leaps up, and then drops down, fast. To local dragons, Cadejoth's tone is abruptly all authority. « Where. Report. Is there any damage? Does anyone know anything? Report. » He'll await his dam's favor for now, but Ilicaeth's mind is whirling through those of the Weyr's dragons that are his friends and acquaintences - and even just chatterboxes - the blue looking for any news as to the whats and whys of these sounds. (To local dragons from Ilicaeth) To local dragons, Niahvth is too distracted, too distraught to report. Generally a pleasant dam, post-clutching, she projects nothing but fear, paranoia, and a healthy dose of don't you dare come near me and my eggs'. Except Reisoth. He's allowed. Hraedhyth's drums are a different kind of boom as her fire spreads, wild and sudden. It doesn't burn through the thoughts of the Weyr, but it is there. Who? What? Is she needed? She will fight. It's instinct that drives her, that has her echoing Cadejoth's verbal commands as she listens. (To local dragons from Hraedhyth) That paranoia ups Vrianth's, the green broadcasting it amidst her rider's sudden focus and fear on a higher frequency, a chill, tooth-aching scrape. (To local dragons from Vrianth) Focus. Cadejoth reaches; he's worried and alert, sparks running up and down his chains. « What happened? » he wants to know. « Focus. Tell me. » (To Vrianth from Cadejoth) Daaamn, Vrianth! Quit that scraping! His mental teeth on edge, the blue finds himself grumpily standing up from cuddling with Hraedhyth, his coppery talons flexing into stone. While Niahvth's paranoia makes his muscles ripple with the urge to action, he confines himself to taking orders from either Hrae or Cadejoth...and neither have sent any. Yet. (To local dragons from Ilicaeth) In this moment of uncertainty, Rasavyth probably genuinely doesn't mean to make it worse. He just wonders without words a little too loudly: what if this isn't something that can be fought? (To local dragons from Rasavyth) Not a dragon given to unnecessary displays of emotion, Reisoth is calm for Niahvth. As calm as he's capable of being, anyway, so near to the queen's emotions. (To local dragons from Reisoth) Sparks. She re-orients. Wraps into those chains and pulls. With it, the vision comes: the shaking hallway, the bone-echoing sound, the smell of... of fish and her rider going the wrong way, in and after and the children do not matter, not to Vrianth, not that way. Not that way. (To Cadejoth from Vrianth) There's no rattle in those chains, today; no shudder and clatter. Cadejoth's silent as he allows himself to be pulled in, feeling-- feeling-- everything Vrianth shares with the certainty and solemnity of a crisis. « She's-- » 'Safe' is the wrong word. 'Safe' is not at all the right word; not even close. « Is she hurt? Can we help? » (To Vrianth from Cadejoth) The man runs the other way, the right way, Vrianth knows this with painfully intimate immediacy. Yelling. Falling. It's falling. And she-Leova keeps running and her boots pound and she's hurrying and the children, she can't see the children, she's sick with it and Vrianth cannot abide, wings flinging wide as abruptly she flies. (To Cadejoth from Vrianth) To Vrianth, Cadejoth projects « We will fix it. » It's a promise, as solemn and serious as any Cadejoth has made; now or ever. « I am calling for help. » To local dragons, Cadejoth's voice reaches out again, his chains silent and still-- so silent, so still; so unusual-- but this time he has purpose, sending out commands: one dragon to the Minecraft Hall; another to the Smiths, to the Woodcrafters. « Stay where you are, » he warns the Weyr. « There's damage. No one is to approach. Stay where you are. » Hraedhyth reaches out to her mate, the sudden intensity as much supportive as it is needing his support. « What. » His command is what keeps her to a ledge, her trust in him unwavering. « Damage. What is damaged? » The snap-crackle of her flames carries a darker concern: is Hers safe where she is? (To Cadejoth from Hraedhyth) From a weyr, whose ledge is located just above the Weyr's entrance, « Our floor is is crumbling. But not gone. » The blue sounds more fascinated than afraid. « We vacate. » He is not the only one, as a handful of others chime in in varied degrees of flailing. (To local dragons from Niahvth) To Hraedhyth, Cadejoth doesn't know, can't fully get his head around-- « Everything, » is not right, and yet, what's the better answer? « I don't know. I don't know, but we need help. » Not him, not his rider. Not hers, presumably. But the Weyr. To local dragons, Lythronath wants to see. Lythronath's interest presses. Louder, now, and more insistent: « Stay. Until we know what's happening. Stay where it is safe. In the bowl, if you need to. Stay. » (To local dragons from Cadejoth) His answer comes on the wake of that blue, of those riders in the bowl who are scattered and alarmed. There's a low snarl, anger at the disturbance, and though it is there it doesn't control the queen. « We will have it. » If only it were up to her. But it isn't. Cadejoth has made his orders clear-- she does her best to answer the rising questions, to soothe them. (To Cadejoth from Hraedhyth) She's still running. He has to fix it now, some atavistic instinct tells her. She's in flight, she can't stay, his words echoing through her and Leova, Leova. And dust. Stone. Stones. Falling. Pelting. Impact on shoulder on upthrust arm on forehead and pain and wet iron and hurry and more and her thin shrill shriek and (To Cadejoth from Vrianth) « Vrianth. » Urgent-even-to-panic, though Cadejoth is trying so hard, so very hard, to keep his cool. « We're bringing help. We're sending for help. We're coming. » (To Vrianth from Cadejoth) Stay where they are; a call to Smith, Wood, Minecrafts; thuds and booms; some dragons forced to vacate their weyrs from crumbling floors. Ilicaeth's (along with his rider's) mind puts 2 and 4 together to offer up a disturbed, « Cave-in, somewhere... » Are there people or dragos trapped? Yeeees, yes, bawss. *He'll* 'stay.' Gheeze. Lythronath gets a guard's brow-lifted stare. (To local dragons from Ilicaeth) To local dragons, Rasavyth's ledge is sizeable, and evidently safe judging by the fact that the floor is still there (yay!). It might seem odd to some, but a wordless current of invitation allows for the stranded to come, to borrow his space for now, if they wish a higher vantage. It may not have been Cadejoth's intention to let it leak, but there it is: trapped. The thought is bit back as soon as it escapes, but too late; agitation does wonders for mental leakage. (To local dragons from Cadejoth) To local dragons, Arekoth's piercing shriek, the slice of brilliant green across his mind's nightsky, it all comes with motion. The brown is airborne. His rider is trapped. « Leova. » Blood and dark and quiet and hoarse breath and moving rock and other's groan and trapped trapped trapped trapped trapped (To Cadejoth from Vrianth) To Vrianth, Cadejoth has nothing to offer but promises; all will be well. Stay strong. Help is coming. Help is coming. To Cadejoth, Vrianth counts on that. She holds him to it. She may not claw down the mountainside, but only just. To Vrianth, Cadejoth, held. It's a promise he's willing to stand by. Flickering fire has been reaching out to all in the wake of the disaster, and it's with a warm fondness that Hraedhyth presses upon Rasavyth. While she has found her perch and must keep to it, his invitation earns the bronze a low rumble of approval. (To Rasavyth from Hraedhyth) To Hraedhyth, Rasavyth's is an odd sort of calm, in the wake of this. Perhaps he's simply come to expect disaster. After all, he's personally witnessed the deaths of two queens in recent turns. Now his world is crumbling around him. But didn't it already? His thoughts are muddled. At least his ledge is useful, even if he is not. Reassured her eggs are fine, the paranoia, the fear subsides and Niahvth retreats into the lovely protection of her mate. She needs to rest. Except, « Irianke would like all dragons to report in as to the state of their riders. This side, or in there? » Arekoth's she heard earlier. Who else? (To local dragons from Niahvth) To local dragons, Cadejoth projects « Vrianth's. » Cadejoth is prompt in answering this one; this is information he has, and perhaps there's a sense of protection, there. He's looking out for her. « Vrianth's is stuck. » He's still on his own ledge with Hraedhyth, Ilicaeth biding his time and cuddling with the gold while they both listen and watch from on high. As various reports come in from dragons and sometimes their riders, the blue builds a mental list of his own, offered to the Senior queen whenever supposition becomes fact. Leova is one of those more recent 'facts' of those who are currently trapped. (To local dragons from Ilicaeth) Yes. Yes, this. Them. He answers for her. Better so. (To Cadejoth from Vrianth) Knioth claws at the stone walls of the bowl, pacing... frantic. Thoughts the chaos of the battle field rather than their usual marshalled order. It doesn't matter that it does no good, nor that he isn't near where the colapse is. (To local dragons from Knioth) Fortunately, K'zin is not trapped. Rasavyth is sure people will be relieved that he can continue to work on his apology letters when the crisis has abated. He's relieved anyway. (To local dragons from Rasavyth) To local dragons, Niahvth projects « Arekoth's. Vrianth's. » Two is still too many. But towards those dragons, the brooding queen musters the energy for calm. Now that her eggs are safe, she can look to the rest of the Weyr and lend the skills particular to her color the reassure everyone else and to provide support and a sense of calm to those two. Until the blue rouses her attention, « Knioth? Where is Ghena? » Hraedhyth is snapping up the information like a starved beast, tense and alert. The tawny sentinel is silent and can be seen on the lip of Ilicaeth's ledge, mind's touch far more active as she reaches out to the dragons of her Weyr. Her drums echo those names: Arekoth's, Vrianth's. She is tense, and while she is not calm, she lends her influence and strength to those who need it. (To local dragons from Hraedhyth) H'vier is totally trapped, but only because he's stranded in his weyr and Reisoth has no intention of leaving the sands anytime soon. Surely he can get a ride at some point. Reisoth isn't worried about him. (To local dragons from Reisoth) Darkness and the scent of blood infuse the sounds of the battlefield which normally permeate the blues sendings. Words, do not come, not in the chaos and confusion. The message, however, is clear, his squire too is trapped. (To local dragons from Knioth) As a fellow warrior, Ilicaeth can understand Knioth's restless agitation, and when the news comes that Ghena is also trapped, the elder blue rumbles firmly to the knight, « The Crafters'll set 'er free. » If there's any concern in his unshakable, granite baritone, it's not apparent, the shoulder of a 'brother' for another of his ilk. More privately, to Hraedhyth, the update of fact is now H'kon, Leova, Ghena trapped. (To local dragons from Ilicaeth) Settles some, curling up nose to tail as close to the tunnel as he can. And barring orders from his Lady Queens, nothing will move him. (To local dragons from Knioth) |
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