Logs:Distance
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| RL Date: 4 August, 2013 |
| Who: Laurienth, Suraieth |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
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| There's nothing tentative about Suraieth's reach: she's exploring, she's /finding/. « Laurienth. » She has no time for hellos. « Are you coming back? » (To Laurienth from Suraieth) To Suraieth, Laurienth has been incommunicative thus far, save for the briefest of words, and today there's an unnatural hesitation and the swirl of dusty plains to fill the silence before the usual thrum and darkness of her voice seeps into the void. « Suraieth. » Still alive then. « Perhaps. » Quieter than she might be; indecision when things are normally so black and white. « Is this the furthest you have ever reached? » Wherever Laurienth is, it's far. It's further than Suraieth can comprehend, she who has never seen beyond the walls of the bowl, who cannot /really/ comprehend the magnitude of distance. « I couldn't find you at first, and then I /reached/, and I /thought/ it was you. » She's pleased and proud, though such emotions lurk beneath the surface of her mental waters, half-hidden deliberately. « And it was. How far away are you? At the Hold? » /Surely/ no one could be further than that! (To Laurienth from Suraieth) « You have done well. » Laurienth's praise may be plain, but she's no less sincere about it than were she to find herself able to use more flowery language. « We are not in Fort's territory. » No more precise than that. « Far beyond the Hold. You will see, when you can fly, how easily distance is eaten up. » She's confident as she tells the younger green: « The others look after you. » Statement, not question. « You are safe in their care. » (To Suraieth from Laurienth) /That/ is very far indeed - far enough that the magnitude of it prevents Suraieth from forming an immediate answer. Questions bob about the surface of her thoughts: but /why/? What can be good so far from home? Why did you leave us? She smoothes them over, however, and says, instead, « I know we are safe. It is only logical. You would not choose others you did not trust. But you are /Laurienth/. » And it is, correspondingly, not-right for her to be gone. (To Laurienth from Suraieth) What Laurienth might catch of those questions is answered with what she knows, with her own practical sense of what is and what isn't, is only true and /now/. « It is better for us here. » And yet Suraieth's last statement is enough of a calling out to strike a nerve and call her honour into question, something in the far depths of her mind shrieking out of tune as wires pull and drop. « It would not be right for us to be with you now, » she insists, to herself or to her charge. « You are the one with sense. » Of all the babies, logical Suraieth. « You must make the others understand. » (To Suraieth from Laurienth) There are many curious thoughts in this, many things to dwell on and examine - perhaps even to dissect. But Suraieth is too stubborn, by now, to let herself be pleased by Laurienth's compliment to her sense, and holds back such emotions. « I will try and explain, » she promises. « Though I do not see how it all comes together. I am missing pieces. But, » her assent is determined. « You are Laurienth. You know best. » (To Laurienth from Suraieth) How can Laurienth respond in such a way as to manage to stamp down her stubborn, warrior's pride? « If you felt you were not perfectly ready for a fight... » Getting there... « You would make sure you were. We will be perfect and then perhaps we will come back. » She cannot argue with Suraieth's belief, as it lines up so perfectly with her view of herself. « I know best, » the elder green confirms. « Things will be better when they are fixed and perfect. You will see. » (To Suraieth from Laurienth) 'Fighting' is not in Suraieth's repertoire, nor in her rider's, but she has enough sense of the term to more-or-less follow what the older green is attempting to explain. « 'Perhaps', » she picks out. « Well, you had better fix them, then. It is not logical to be broken, when you can be fixed, but sometimes it takes /time/. » Her wings, for example. She doesn't /remember/ a time when they were whole, but they will be, one day! « We must acknowledge our weaknesses, and better ourselves. It is good. » (To Laurienth from Suraieth) There's that odd, screeching noise again somewhere in the distance, white-hot sparks smother before their heat can reach Suraieth. « Not perfect is not /broken/, » is a growly, stubborn statement. « Weaknesses are to be defeated. » If one must acknowledge them to defeat them, well, that's neither here nor there. « You will learn when you are not so bound by the wishes of your elders. » Laurienth included. « And when you have greater freedom to make your own choices. » (To Suraieth from Laurienth) To Laurienth, Suraieth is /curious/ about that noise, and by how it all gets smothered... /curious/, but too polite (this time) to push too hard. « Weaknesses /are/ to be defeated, » confirms Suraieth, placidly, her waters rippling gently under her surety. « We are to improve ourselves. We have no fear. » She isn't going to push this concept of freedom and choice; to her own mind, she already /has/ control over herself. « I will leave you to improve yourself, then, » she decides. Something, whether it's that niggle of having to admit to any kind of weakness or a nebulous sense of her rider's feelings (whatever Ben is up to), stings, and there's a definite sense of energy and noise building somewhere in the darkness, a temper ready to be unleashed. But controlled. For now. « I expect you to be vastly improved to warrant our return, » is the challenge Laurienth throws down for Suraieth in the moment before she draws away to vent that fury not at - to her mind - a child. Only dust is left her wake; dust and an echo of runners' hooves. Silly beasts. (To Suraieth from Laurienth) To Laurienth, Suraieth retreats, pleased. Well, she'll just have to improve, then! Easy. |
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