Logs:Who are you; What is your quest?
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| RL Date: 6 July, 2015 |
| Who: Alida, Ka'ge, Ilicaeth, Zymadiath |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Two dragons from different Weyrs have an informative talk, while their riders beat around the proverbial bush. |
| Where: Fort Weyr: Bowl |
| When: Day 10, Month 3, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: A periodic, misty rain falls on and off throughout the day, mostly just enough to make everything damp rather than soaked. |
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| Early evening. The mist has subsided, relieving the most bitter of the lingering chill of early spring- can it even yet be called that, really? The ground itself is still damp but at least not terribly muddy. Ka'ge is seated on a flat stone partially burried on the floor of the bowl not all that far from the weyrling barracks themselves, the teen garbed in greys, his hood drawn to cover most of his face. There's an oil can near him, a brush in his hands. But the brush is turned idly in his gloved hands, rotating as if admiring every aspect of its angles. The bronze dragonet is standing perhaps a dragonlength away, watching the lake from afar, eyes whirling slowly in semi-content hues. There's almost always a foreigner or three about at any Weyr, and this early eve is no different from most of the others, in that aspect, as a burly blue dragon spirals down from Fort's rim towards the ground. While his rider was involved in conducting whatever business she had within the mountain, Ilicaeth was perfectly happy to perch up on high and natter with some of his Fortian brethren in person. With the waning of Rukbat, however, comes the time to depart, and as the slatey, greyed-out blue backwings to a solid landing mid-Bowl, Alida sets off at a lazy jog to meet her lifemate, her helmet already donned, leathers and scarf, gloves in place. Ka'ge's head lifts slightly, though not enough to unshadow his face completely, his gaze following after the foreign rider as she joins her dragon in the bowl. Nothing surprising, nothing that would draw this particular boy from his spot. A dark boot scuffs once, twice at the damp ground as he seems more lost in his thoughts than terribly observant of the bowl's goingson. But unlike the weyrling bronzerider, Zymadiath does care about the strange blue, perhaps more by means of proximity than the lack of oddity of the behavior. One dark-touched paw takes a half-step towards Ilicaeth, turning the dragonet just-so, head tilted such that one faceted eye observes him. Blackened wings are held loosely, but not dragging, at his sides. And when his mind reaches for the blue dragon, it's not that of simply a curious baby, as much as he may be one. Figments of darkness, curling, reaching, forming and unforming. A slow rhythm, a deliberate rhythm, the presence of the blackness seems to be a greeting in and of itself. The shadows seem to be what project the 'voice' of the dragonet, gravelly and not wholly pleasant, « Where are you going? » It'll take Alida a minute to reach him across this expanse, so the often unhurried Ilicaeth continues in his typical idiom as he first senses a presence inspecting him, then 'hears' the youngling bronze's gravelly voice in his head. Casually, the 'Reachian blue's strong head turns directly towards Zymadiath, the shades and unformed spectres of the weyrling's presence met by only-partially withheld swirls of hot golden sands from Igen's parched heart, and a vaguely bemused, sand-scratchy baritone, « That's fer me ta know, an' you...ta wonder, kid. » Zymadiath takes another few steps in the general direction of the foreign blue, his gait a crouched thing, a stalking thing. His wing tips are just barely kept from the mist-touched green of the bowl floor, his dark-hewn belly not all that far from it as well. When he stops again, it's almost mid-stride, as if paused in a stalk before prey. « Is from where you came as much a secret as where you're going? » The darkness is unpleasant, yes, but also smug despite the youth that carries it. Ilicaeth doesn't seem all that concerned about being 'stalked,' the burly blue's craggy form nearly immobile except for his deeply-shadowed eyes, which whirl a moderate azure in curiosity as they peer down at Zymadiath. If he's at all put-off by the young bronze's manner, 'caeth doesn't bother showing it, instead offering a raspy chuckle and a blithe-seeming, « 'Reaches, squirt. » A short pause allows the elder's faceted gaze to shift slightly in a peer at hooded Ka'ge before returning to the dragonet. « Seems you two got well-matched. » Golden sands smirk amply, showing the pair of bonded weyrlings striking a rather 'goth/vampire' pose together. Oooh, so wicked and 'dark.' Not much after his tease is given, Alida pulls up to a walk to meet her lifemate, a faint smirk touching the woman's own mouth before she barks out amicably through the muggy atmosphere towards Ka'ge, "Buggin' yer little?" A jack of thumb towards Ilicaeth shows who the comment is indicating. « Reaches. » The shadows repeat, though perhaps in that is a question, as his phantasms shift in the likeness of a tilted head, curious, before fading and reappearing as some other indescribable thing. The darkling dragonet moves only to draw his haunches underneath him, staring at the blue with an eerie stillness after. « Our paths differ. For now. » Zymadiath allows, his ghosts intent on the shared imagery. « Are you and yours? » Match, apparently is his intention for that. And even though the dragonet doesn't look towards Alida to answer his own question, Ka'ge does. Blue-green eyes from under the hood become noticable as he looks up at the voice directed to him. The idle inspection of the brush comes to a halt. A crooked grin draws across his stubble-lined face with a lopsided shrug to accompany it, dismissive of it. "Interesting him, not so much bugging. He usually doesn't bother visitors." Ilicaeth likewise finds Zymadiath a tad interesting, the young bronze's way of conducting himself at his tender age something of a stand-out. The little one's words of paths earn him a minute mental grunt, which comes out as a scant chuff upon cool air, the foreigner's breath pluming slightly. As for that question, well, the Reachian's rasping sands puff, « Could be. » One of his broad shoulders give a faint twitch, resembling a diffident human shrug. "Fair 'nuff..." Alida responds back to the human half of the bronze equation, the woman not even close to winded after her extended, lazy jog. To her own lifemate is noted in a harder-accented, mile-a-minute alto rife with 'Reachian tonals, "Ready?" On the heels of the inquiry comes another grunt-chuff from the blue, his rider likewise shrugging, then moving to stand before her slowly-lowering dragon's chest, the two meeting up smooth as silk so that Alida's lightly propped against her bastion of blue muscle, while Ilicaeth firmly settles belly to ground. Still staring directly at Zymadiath. « Another new burr in Fort's saddle? » is noted of the odd little bronze dragonet. He might bear some watching. (Ilicaeth to Alida) « What's your hurry. » The darkness asks, what may be eyeless sockets watching from some figment before it's soon transformed into some other shadow. « We don't know of Reaches. » And, based on that 'tone', it's something he- they- should. Zymadiath rises again, wings mantled around his small self. Ka'ge's focus glazes for a moment, that characteristic look of a draconic conversation, before flicking back to Alida. Somewhere along the same time that the dragonet stands back to his paws, Ka'ge rises, though he looks somewhat torn between coming and going, a shoulder turned slightly from the Reachian pair. "Leave them alone." Seems to be to his dragon. « No hurry. » Not at all, really, since Ilicaeth seems to have settled himself down comfortably, for the meantime, and his rider isn't agitated at all. As a matter of fact, Alida's looking pretty at ease propped up against the blue's broad chest, his greater body heat keeping her warmer on this crappily-weathered evening. « What'cha wanna know? » is inquired artlessly by the blue's sandy baritone, his head slowly lowering to put it more on a level with little Zymadiath down there, as the bronzelette rises. Both of the 'Reachians seem to be 'humoring' the 'kid,' while also watching him. Oh, and Alida's clear green gaze also occasionally flicks out to Ka'ge, as well, taking him and his reactions in silently. The young bronze doesn't answer immediately, though his shadows remain ever-present, ever creating and uncreating those ghastly figures. His eerie stare never leaves the blue, and his darkened wings seem paused, poised as they are. But in the interval from which Ilicaeth responds favorably and when an appropriate moment in which Zymadiath should respond, there's a change in Ka'ge's posture. He heaves a sigh, his gloved hands falling into his pockets as he turns to towards Alida a little more fully. "He wants me to talk to you." Amused, even if the hint of annoyance isn't fully escapable. "About how the Weyrs differ." The grin broadens at the complexity of those few words. The sarcasm drifting between them makes the darkling dragonet's tail twitch, and narrow that request, « It looks different. » The shadowy mind asks in the manner of a statement, « Is it run the same? » Those shadows are not a reason for trepidition on Ilicaeth's part. Instead, the courageous blue moves like oddly fluid granite amongst them, hints of mica trying to reflect off of any temporary light, if there is any within the little bronze's mind. Sand-granite, rock-dust...whatever works is how the elder dragon navigates the younger's mind, his only partially-withheld force perhaps scraping off a few edges or curves, here and there, as eerie 'baby' stare meets unpreturbed, cavernous adult stare. « Weyrs 're run the same, yet different. Depends on the 'Leaders. » It's kind-of tough to explain to a young mind. Instead, the 'Reachian blue offers a crisp, general image of High Reaches from on-high, the Seven Spindles prominent not far below. See how it differes from... *An image of Fort's skies from the same general distance above is offered.* As their dragons 'chat,' Alida merely watches the interplay between them, finally moving her astute gaze more to Ka'ge as he turns more towards her. Listening to the hooded one's sarcasm and vague annoyance directed at his lifemate earns him a small half-smirk, the weyrling's words her tight alto, "Fer *him*, or fer *you*?" The young one's mind, searched, is only deeper and deeper darkness. Hidden, hiding. Where is he in all that? Only that first layer offered the slowly shifting figments, offered something to 'sense' beyond simply awareness of a conciousness. Yet even those are distanced from the sand-granite and rock dust of the adult blue. « And it is run 'well' by those Leaders? » Over-simplification has be intentional with how both dragonet and weyrling boy remain so off-handed about the subject. Alida's reply earns a both curious and amused sort of look, that smugness more prominent on his face than in his dragon's mindvoice. "I think he's more entertained by a welcoming dragon from another Weyr." is some degree of hedging of her question as he gives in to take a step towards the bluerider, "What brings you here?" A gloved hand is pulled from a pocket to make a light gesture around them. He's had some experience with 'odd' dragon minds before, and though he doesn't remember it consciously anymore, Ilicaeth begins to tread with somewhat more caution as he slowly plod through, forges the streams of the little bronze's shadowy and shifting mind. Distances were made to be crossed, and though he doesn't hurry, still the blue seems to manage to cross shadows farily quickly, his finest particulates practically seeking to meld into one with a shadow or two. Rock is a more 'shifting' element than many think. « 'Well's' a subjective thing. » One Weyr's 'good' might be another's 'bad.' As Ka'ge closes a little, then makes that gesture with the removal of his hand from pocket, something subtly shifts in Alida's demeanor, her casualness *still* 'casual,' but with a faint undercurrent of charged potential behind calm green eyes and leather-clad form. "Business..." the woman replies factually, riposting with her own inquiry of, "Why 're ya out here, now?" Inexperienced with another's mind being so ready to traverse his darkness, it can be felt that Zymadiath's darkness begins to receed away from the reach he'd made to touch Ilicaeth's mind. The ghosts, the dark phantasms feint away at the particles attempting to meld within his starless night. In his retreat, his curiousity seems sated for sake of necessity of asking nothing more. The baby bronze himself, however, still remains sitting, staring at the older blue. Whether Ka'ge just doesn't want to close any further distance, or he is observant enough to take in that subtle shift is uncertain, but there is a faint flick of his gaze down and back up the Reachian rider that may suggest the latter. "Too important for someone like me to understand?" The grin's become something more along the lines of a smirk, "Less people." At least he answers the question, and from the promptness of it, it may be honest. It's not simply experience that allows him that egress, but much more gut-level instinct for what feels 'right' and not-so-right, Ilicaeth seemingly a little disappointed by Zymadiath's receeding presence. He has to remind himself that this is a young one as the blue almost pushes his dust and flowing granite forward towards those fleeting phantasms, an internal shake of head given as he too backs off...the 'Reachian now 'just' a simple granite monument to the ages amidst a heated and parched desert background. He too, still holds his level, 'ridge-shadowed gaze steady with the squirt. Satisfied? is the blue's wordless question. Alida, in turn, watches how Ka'ge reacts to her own subtle posturing, a faint quirk of one pale eyebrow offered before she replies back, "How often do people come up ta you an' start talkin' business outta' the blue?" Her mirrored grin is a mixed bag of a little sharkiness, a hint of dark humor, and a splash of good old fashioned bull-headedness. As for less people... "Yeah. Did the same when I was a 'ling." Really? The rhythm of the ever-changing, ever-flowing figures never varies, and they pause to linger when the blue no longer reaches for them in return. Shadowy figments continue their nightmarish dance just out on the outskirts there. An answer to that wordless question, a confirmation. In the distance they remain, there's still an unmistakable confidence, even if the night has no desire to share. Ka'ge lets his arm relax at his side, the other remaining in his pocket hidden. "Just being friendly." Sure, that's it. Enough amusement in that leads to, "We should let you go." A chuckle, breathy, comes without a verbal joke to support it. "Ought to get ready for 'bedtime' anyway." A thing he enjoys, clearly. Ilicaeth, in turn, allows no further 'examination' of his own parched and rocky, sand filled landscape, the blue equitable enough in his give and take with the little bronzeling. Idly, however, he still observes those shadowy twists and turns, even as his luminous, faceted blue gaze shifts some, down to the itty-bitty humans conversing. The look on Alida's face says it all as she responds to Ka'ge: mHm. Suuure. Smirk. "S'pose you 'should.'" As if. The woman utters a faint grunt of her own, to which her lifemate responds with a fractional flex of muscle in preparation to his slow standing...'lida pushing lightly off her blue 'wall,' then partially watching him carefully stride somewhat farther away from her and the Fortians, and hunch down for his rider to mount up. "Enjoy..." the palest-blonde woman tosses off glibly over her shoulder, letting that stand in for a more typical farewell as she paces off to the blue, mounts up like an old pro, preps for flight, and then is hurled powerfully towards the sky with one massive leap by Ilicaeth. « Toodles... » the burly 'Reachian dragon huffs affably to Zymadiath as he quickly gains air. For good appearances, the pair don't transfer Between until they're a solid distance above the ground. |
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