Logs:Contrary Rielsath
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| RL Date: 9 April, 2008 |
| Who: Lujayn, Rielsath |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: Lujayn has completed her first set of straps, wheedled approval out of I'daur, but Rielsath refuses. |
| Where: Weyrling Barracks, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
| They're well-oiled, freshly made, and perfect in every sense of the word. As perfect as a weyrling could hope for, at least. Lujayn holds the chest straps in her arms, leaning forward in an almost pleading manner to her dragon, who's crouched down low. Her wings tuck close to her body, protecting it from those much-hated fetterings. « I don't want to wear those silly things! » It's been a long argument, but Rielsath's reason hasn't changed in the slightest, a contrast to Lujayn's many attempts to find purchase in her dragon's mind. I don't want to. You can't make me. We don't need them. She's made them herself, slaved over getting them just right, and so these words are somehow more painful than anything Lu has ever heard. Still, she doesn't let herself back down. « ... I wouldn't ever let you fall, why do they think they need to tie you to me like the Weyr idiot ... » Never mind that all of the adult dragons wear straps without a complaint. Never mind that the rest of the weyrling class is already making and testing their own sets. It certainly doesn't matter that they won't be allowed to fly together without proper safety precautions. Lujayn has a sneaking suspicion she will be held especially accountable for this rule, with such a headstrong lifemate beneath her. She knows what Rielsath wants to hear: No one needs to know, we'll just break the rules. So wear these straps and we'll fool 'em. But it's not going to happen this time. Lujayn sets the straps down, her months-long endeavor, and retreats to the bowl without a word. It was the same yesterday. It will be the same tomorrow. Alone and out of sight, Rielsath rises from her stiff position. She noses lightly at one of the straps, hooking her snout under it, eying the padded girth and clicking her talons against the buckles, curiosity slowly turning to childish delight. A laugh echoes from the bowl - Sevierth and S'trun are coming! Rielsath is back upon her couch in a flash of sunfire, the straps discarded in a heap on the floor. All appearances intact: the dragonet seems to be just rousing herself from a long nap when the others enter, neck stretching slowly with a yawn. Oh, what's that left out in the middle of the barracks? « She never puts stuff back when she's done with it. » |
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