Logs:An Itch, Scratched
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 24 April, 2015 |
| Who: Arekoth, Madilla, Raija |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Dilan's been looking after Arekoth. But what about when he's not around? |
| Where: H'kon and Madilla's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 13, Month 6, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| OOC Notes: Backdated. |
   |
| The first few days, Arekoth was not very good about coming home. And then, suddenly, as if by some external (if perhaps trapped in a cave) force, it became clockwork; the brown has been home at supper, often distant, yes, but home, and, if anyone should approach him, present. It's a rarity, however, (well, in this current situation, at least) that he will be the one to seek attention. Tonight is therefore markedly Different, when Arekoth's rumble interrupts the goings-on of the main weyr, and that sharp gaze pins itself specifically, not on one of the children, but on Madilla. It's been a stressful few days. Even knowing exactly where H'kon is-- now, at least-- and knowing that he's not about to die unless something dramatic happens, well. It's not really enough, is it? But Madilla has been doing her very best to keep things as normal as possible, at home, and that means structure. And so it is that she's sitting on the floor helping Raija with her 'homework' when Arekoth's rumble interrupts. She glances up, surprised, and then immediately on her feet. "Arekoth?" The note of fear in her voice is audible; it's there in her expression, too. Oh, no. Not like that. The brown takes advantage of that very uncertain border between his couch and the weyr proper, stretch-crawling forward quickly to close the distance between himself and his rider's mate, his roommate, so that he can nudge at her with that beaked muzzle of his, lightly, with a huff of air. From there, the dragon pulls back. He can't help his fierce aspect, but those eyes are mostly blue, if whirling a bit quickly. He stares from this new angle, raising up just a bit on his front limbs (okay, mostly the right, unbent one). After all these turns, Madilla has surely learned how to read Arekoth's moods-- more or less-- and so, after a moment's pause, she shakes away that fear and dread and focuses, instead, upon what is actually there, reaching up to return the brown's nudge with a flat press of her hand. "I'm just jumpy," she explains, apologetically, her voice kept low to avoid too much being overheard; there's no point upsetting anyone. "Do you--" A pause. "--Need something?" Arekoth gives a little click of sorts, tilting his head. His hide still shows the dimmed colours of concern. This is something the dragon understands. He waits, still, until her question. And that brings a turn of his head, to see her from a different perspective, to show off a bit more of his profile. Those wings shift and rustle. And then, Arekoth takes a step back, more into his couch proper, and waits again. It's a different kind of concern, now: Madilla stares at Arekoth with a look of quiet dismay, her mouth drawn half-open and her eyes wide. "I don't-- I don't understand. I'm sorry. Do you need, uh, oiling? Or?" Her gaze hurriedly glances over what she can see of the brown as she takes a few steps closer all over again. It's not necessarily that there's more room in the couch; it's that there's more dragon-friendly, unfurnished room. When Madilla moves closer, Arekoth backs up, pivoting so more of his side is showing for the woman. There's a noise, somewhere between a snort and a warble. He moves his wings again, now not so much restless rustling as if shaking them out, though of course they don't extend much, or risk taking out someone's eye. Shoulders flex, fall. Of course, his tail swishes, too, as counterbalance. And he stares. Madilla glances behind her, uncertainly, although Dilan, of course, is nowhere to be seen: he'd know what to do, but his mother is far less sure. "Your side," she assumes, stepping right up to the brown and extending her hand. She doesn't seem sure about this movement, either, but her fingers outstretch and she gives a tentative rub. Like that? "Or--?" This is really unfortunate. Arekoth permits that awkward attempt for a moment, head turned to watch Madilla, to take in the dimensions of his couch, his feet. And then, all at once, and remarkably smoothely, he slides backwards, crouching as he shifts, and lifting the wing on the side where woman is high, so as to avoid any unfortunate collision. Madilla lets out a surprised little sound as Arekoth slides, ducking her head for all that he's already made sure his wing won't collide with her. Glancing up, a little uncertainly, she stares at the hide in front and above her. "Lower or higher?" she wonders, then. "You could... tap your tail twice for lower? And nod your head for higher?" Draconic eyes don't roll easily, but Arekoth does glance away, up toward the ceiling of the weyr, before looking back to Madilla. And then, there's a very clear up-and-down motion of his head, while his tail remains quite still. And then, that wing twitches, involuntarily. Not dangerously, but. "I saw that," says Madilla, more amused than with any real warning. "Do you want my help or not, mmm?" It's a hollow threat, plainly: as if she wouldn't do anything to help Arekoth, especially now. "Mind that wing, though." She stretches up, now, up on her toes and as high as she can, fingers more sure as she attempts to find 'the' spot. Arekoth crouches down lower, and even leans a little, in toward Madilla. It's a move executed carefully, with a hind leg pressed out and to the floor to keep him from going over completely. There's another vocalisation, encouragement or instruction. And that wing twitches again. Maybe in this new position, she can see the muscle in his shoulder that's brought about that twitch. Maybe she could also grow a couple more feet, please. Sadly, Madilla stopped growing turns and turns ago, and genetics never did give her any chance at those extra feet. She pauses, instead, gaze flicking towards that muscle, and then back towards Arekoth's face. "I'm going to need to climb up," she says. "Aren't I?" She sounds faintly uncertain about this, as if the idea of sitting atop her weyrmate's dragon when he is trapped underground somewhere is wholly wrong. That muscle twitches again. Never mind right or wrong, this is getting intense. Arekoth even makes an attempt at sliding a foreleg out, to be used as stepping aid. And then, sighs, and nods his head purposefully. Communication? It is possible! Having reached this conclusion, and received her confirmation, Madilla hastily moves to climb atop that forelimb, and to work her way up-- never mind her skirts, which inevitably get in the way-- as far as she can, until, perched precariously between those neckridges, she's in a better position to have a go at that muscle. "You poor thing," she adds, then. It's okay. Arekoth's can't see up her skirts from where he is, anyway. She can move them as needed. Once the woman's in position, there's an encouraging little croon... and then, a purposeful bunching of muscle to press against the woman's hands. More encouragement. Madilla, modest to a fault, is quick to adjust her skirts with one hand, while reaching out with the other to answer that muscle-bunching encouragement; okay, she gets it. "Like that?" she says, though surely she's worked it out already; certainly, her fingers are more sure, now. She's a healer; she knows muscles. "I'll have to tell Dee to keep an eye out for this kind of thing. I'm sure he is anyway, but-- just in case." It's an extended sigh that tries to grip at his voice, but barely manages. Just like that. The brown lifts his head a bit, eyes whirling more slowly, as if focusing, little more... and then, a gust of a sigh, and he relaxes his wings against his sides, and lowers his head down to the floor of the weyr. To look at Raija, who has moved, unseen, and is staring, accusingly?, up at her mother, 'homework' clenched in hand. Just like that. Only... yes, there's Raija. Madilla's cheeks turn pink as she stares down at her daughter, her hand stilling, and then picking up to move again, and over a rub to the neckridge she's nestled behind. "I'll be back down in a moment, Raija," she reassures the five-turn-old. "Everything's fine. Arekoth just needed me for a minute." The dragon isn't quite a puddle on the floor, but the relief all through him is evident. Those eyes still on the little girl, he gives her a couple half-playful, half-reassuring clicks. While Raija stares on, unconvinced, or simply set in her opinion that this is weird and waiting for things to go back to normal, Arekoth closes the innermost lids of his eyes. Madilla's gaze slides from her daughter, with those staring amber eyes, towards the dragon she's settled upon, and then back again. "I'm coming," she promises, relinquishing her seat in order to begin clambering down again, skirts akimbo. "If you need anything else, Arekoth, you know where I am. Come on, Raija. Let's see what you've done before bed." As Madilla walks past him, and back toward the main weyr, Arekoth lifts his head to nudge at... well, it's meant to be her hand, though he might well catch much of her side as well. And when that contact is broken, in the exploded depths of the Weyr, H'kon closes his eyes, and once again schools his expression into a practiced frown, letting head bump back against the wall in the darkness. |
Comments
Alida (00:55, 25 April 2015 (EDT)) said...
Sweet. I enjoyed reading this. :)
Leave A Comment