Logs:No Rest for the Weary
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| RL Date: 25 November, 2007 |
| Who: N'thei |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Vignette |
| When: Day 28, Month 4, Turn 14 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Shanlee/Mentions, Persie/Mentions, Amerie/Mentions, Zahava/Mentions, Satiet/Mentions, B'yan/Mentions |
| Wyaeth skid away from Secath's ledge with his usual graceless glide, stuttering his wingbeats until he was in the open space over the bowl. N'thei felt it rise in him like bile, the desire to chide the bronze for being intentionally jolty and uncomfortable, the will to make his dragon irritable. Unfortunately, despite going on two-and-a-half turns of practice, he had not yet learned to keep his thoughts hidden from Wyaeth. « What do you care? Persie ain't to be impressed. » That doesn't mean you have to be a jerk just for the sake of being a jerk. He felt Wyaeth snort beneath him, and he felt a familiar argument brewing. Wyaeth took an unaccountably keen interest in N'thei's interactions with the fairer sex, a fact that had become more pronounced since Ciath's flight, and there was no pleasing him. There was no shortage of women in the bronzerider's life-- Shanlee, Persie, Amerie, Zahava-- and Wyaeth's personal opinion was that there was no point waiting for the one woman to come around when there was no way of knowing if she would. A dragon's viewpoint: live for the moment, to hell with the what-might-have-beens. But further conversation was cut off when N'thei sent the image to take them Between, the view that had become permanently etched in his mind's eye: Crom in the dark, the fireheights hazy and distant, the spot some miles away from the hold proper which glowed like warmth in the cold spring night. Black... Blacker... Blackest... After two hours curled up against Wyaeth, occasionally stealing a sip from his flask, N'thei hadn't learned anything new. He had a good vantage point on the cliffs surrounding the Hold, distant enough that the watchdragon didn't see them. He'd been watching for the Telgari, waiting for a challenge to Wyaeth's presence, but none had come. Not that he worried; he knew exactly how stubborn his bronze would be if questioned, how bulletproof his mind would be to unwanted conversants. They'd get no more out of Wyaeth than a desolate wasteland in response, right down to a single tumbleweed rolling in a listless noon wind. Basking in Wyaeth's steel-trap mind wasn't going to change facts. Crom Hold ran a tight ship, tighter with the knowledge that Telgari riders could be down there at any time. N'thei's hand strayed to a markpurse in his jacket, felt the weight of the money against his fingers, and he wondered how much it would take. They'd bought two guards already, and B'yan's people were supposed to be helping in that respect, but could they really get three dragons-- four men-- in and out of Crom without being caught? He watched the people scurrying in the glowlight, just visible as black specks against a blacker background, the guard changing, and he doubted it. Oh he doubted it. Shanlee's idea to land outside the gate, what do you think of it? « And skulk in like rats? You'd be better off to go in swingin'. » Mmm. Maybe. |
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