Logs:Suspicious Somnolence
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| RL Date: 26 May, 2013 |
| Who: Solith, Rasavyth, Telavi |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Solith gives her usual run-down of daily happenings, but is reminded Telavi has notes for K'zin. K'zin is asleep already, though it's early, and comes for the notes, betraying some of his growing concern for his rider. |
| Where: Rasavyth's Ledge and Solith's Ledge, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 21, Month 11, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| OOC Notes: Part 7 in a series of month 11 snippets between K'zin and Telavi. Preceded by Logs: Pi-rates. (All of these are back-dated and played via gdocs.) |
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| Solith's never really regular, Lords couldn't set their expensive clocks by her, or if they did they'd be sorry. Even so, there's usually a window of time in which she breezes by to visit with Rasavyth, mid- to late in the evening; tonight it's on the early end, and tonight those tidbits about the day that he likes are trailing behind her mental greeting like so many ribbons from a kite, fluttering. It's also partway through that she finally remembers, engaged in their own chatter as she is, « Oh! There are... notes? From that meeting, » the rare one he'd missed, the breeze carrying whispers of wingleaders that really hadn't been just whispering back then, and the flickers of flame-touched air that's Telavi shaking out her hand. « She just finished copying, if he wants them. » Rasavyth is always interested in what Solith has to say (well, almost always; there are occasional exceptions, but even then he's not one to dampen her enthusiasm for telling him; just one to sometimes re-direct the timing). His oozy mind that reflects her breeze and incorporeal nuances is suffused with his interest, appreciation, approval for what she has to tell him. He is careful not to dislodge the bits of information from her trailing ribbon of thought, but makes exact duplications for deeper examination later, though certainly there are little comments to show he's engaged and paying attention as each nugget is related. When her stream of thoughts is interrupted, his interest shifts to what she says next. « I am certain he would wish them. I wish them to be sure. I can come retrieve them from your Telavi. But my K'zin is, alas, already asleep, and I shall not wake him this night. » So many nights the bronze is all too willing to disturb his rider for important things like notes and learning, but not tonight. There is briefly the flutter of something uncertain in the dragon's mind, some slight bit of concern that briefly appears before being tucked away again. « Shall I go to her? » Solith's attuned to flutters, she must notice, and yet, « Come, » she agrees, not in the least displeased to stay in the warmth of her weyr, with all the other ribbons she keeps there. In summer, its coziness will be less than ideal, but now... « She only waits for them to dry, » puff goes the air of Telavi's breath upon the ink, not so much waiting as making, but then that's Tela. « Has it gotten so late? But then he works so hard, we know. » It's times like these that all the tail-precision practice comes in handy. It only takes him a couple of tries to get the strap of the saddlebags over his head and situated where they will not fall. Rasavyth knows (or thinks) this imagery of his attempts and fumbles would amuse Solith, so he shares it. Let them all believe he is clumsy. The belief works to his advantage. Or will, when he becomes less so. The fact of the advantage is not shared, just the fumbling with the bag and finally his success. Then he is coming. As he wings his way down to her sheer ledge, an answer comes, « It is not so late. » A breath of hesitation. « He needs sleep. He is working very hard. » The very lets slip a sensation that implies so much more than usual, even if the successes are the same as usua; his personal challenges are greater. It is not right that K'zin should have to work so. There is something not right. It's there for a brief flash and then replaced by his sense of calm, though the knit of the veil is stretched wide, betraying some of his lingering concern for his rider. He's right, she is amused, though also clearly intrigued: for all that Solith has always cared to nose about what's been left behind, has gotten good at getting into things and doesn't think to hold herself back nearly as much as her rider does, she doesn't remember trying this. It's not the same as helping Telavi get her straps on, not really, not in Solith's mind's eye. This is closer to independence... if she really knew what that was. Some of that colors her thoughts as she awaits him, less in hue than in mood, and is readily turned to listening. A tinge of relief, that it's not so late, that she didn't miss out, becomes not-relief for the rest. Tentatively, « If they did not have to sleep so... that would be a help. » Not that Solith doesn't like her own naps, and yet. « It would. Much more time for more pleasant and interesting things. » Rasavyth agrees as he slides to a stop on the ledge. His head dips down so the bags dangle at the right height. « I am ready when your Telavi is. » A sensation of curiosity for if Solith has told Telavi he is here, but no real pointed questioning. Solith actually goes so far as to peek past her curtain and out into the chill air at her visitor, her eyes once-lidded against the cold where in daylight it might be the sun, and that way she can see the saddlebags for herself. It's not that she doesn't wear them, but putting them on alone... « She comes, » unconcerned, but then she wouldn't be, would she. Less unconcerning is the not-right-ness that air slips about, learning what she can of its shape. Solith adds after a moment, « Normally he is so much movement, » she offers. Not 'has,' in her lexicon, but 'is.' Talk, gesture, opinion, all except for sleep. It takes her rider a touch longer to begin to emerge, all muffled up with a small sack in one hand, one whose outline conforms to the cylindrical nature of its contents. Rasavyth is patient. He waits. The shape of his concern is something vague, some growing uncertainty, but it's hard to see through the interlocking pattern of ooze that shrouds it. « Yes. Normally, he is. » He doesn't correct her on her verb choice. He understands what she means and that's all that's important. « He will be again soon. He just needs some sleep. » This is resolute. Surely, things will be all right as rain tomorrow. They must be. Solith certainly doesn't scrape at the ooze, doesn't even look too hard or too long: how it grows, that's enough for her. When she pries, it's most often physically and this, this is Rasavyth's business most of all. She does keep an eye on her rider, who's not moving so smoothly but also not with sleepiness, unfastening the nearest saddlebag to put her own sack within with a murmur of how that's one way not to get dragon spit upon them, or worse. "And that's not so heavy that it would unbalance you," not that Telavi seems to expect an answer at all, just... it's so quiet on that cool dark night, and not the easy sort of quiet. She adjusts the bag so the sack's at the bottom, so it won't swing too much, and while she's doing that, Solith wonders with sympathy that's less tentative than her soft voice, « Would he be upset if you let him sleep until he woke? » To fix things. Or for all she knows, perhaps Rasavyth does that anyway, if it doesn't also break the duty. For all that she doesn't expect an answer from him, Rasavyth rumbles agreeably in answer to Telavi's words. It doesn't hurt him to be polite. « I shall. As duty permits. He may be upset if he chooses. I do not think he will be, though. He, too, knows he needs this sleep. » And then he's moving to the edge of the ledge to drop into the sky, winging up a moment later, back toward his own ledge. The papers are safe enough from dragon saliva for now. But, should he decide he wants to see them before K'zin wakes... well, there's no saying how that will go and if things will be legible afterward. « Please give your Telavi our thanks. » And then his ooze settles into the quiet movement of oozy breeze. |
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