Logs:Baskets, Secrets, Surprises
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| RL Date: 11 July, 2015 |
| Who: Aeaeth, Tacuseth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Two dragons make a date. |
| Where: High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 25, Month 3, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Jo/Mentions, Yesia/Mentions, Edyis/Mentions, Telavi/Mentions |
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| Tacuseth drops an empty basket on Aeaeth's ledge, because he can. It's likely a present. (To Aeaeth from Tacuseth) Presents? Presents! What's in the basket? Unending curiosity in unfurling colors as she pokes it with her nose. Hopefully it's something pretty. (To Tacuseth from Aeaeth) Alas, the basket is indeed empty. Perhaps the basket was the gift. Tacuseth has no concept of basket-stuffing, Woe! But it's a little glittery! « It's not to sleep in, » at least he tells her. (To Aeaeth from Tacuseth) Disappointment in waves and waves of orange. Woe. « Obviously, » she replies sadly, even as she's pushing the basket away from that puddle of water on her ledge; she'll find a place for it, out of the way of wind and wet. « I'm not very little anymore, after all. » Pause. « Thank you? » (To Tacuseth from Aeaeth) Tacuseth can feel the little green's disappointment, so like any dragon suitor, he sends, « What is it you would like? I can get it for you! » He sounds sooooo confident. Blues can get anything, see. (To Aeaeth from Tacuseth) Flicking tails, twisting ribbons of light. « I don't know. I like very pretty things, » is what she says, coyly. « And water...but not the water on my ledge. And colors, except, » ugly colors don't flash, the ugly olive of moss-filled water, the brown-black of loam, a sickly green-yellow « those ones. » Maybe he can guess. (To Tacuseth from Aeaeth) Ahh, to the intricacies of wooing a green. Tacuseth seems to give her words some thought, before he sends Aeaeth a visual: it's a folded cloth of a pink, shimmery material, with little white beads sewn in to help depict some sort of picture should the whole thing be unfolded. It's girly, pretty and the blue sends « Maybe you can sleep under it? My lady can get it. » He's likely not even asking Jo if she really could. (To Aeaeth from Tacuseth) Pink! « Pink is us! » she announces, preening with delight, with the suggestion of who she means. Not her and Tacuseth, no; her and Yesia, so pink. Her mind tries to feel it between phantom fingers, attempts to pick out the design fruitlessly. Best to keep some of it a surprise, anyways. « Yes! Oh, Tacuseth, could she? That would be the best gift ever. » (To Tacuseth from Aeaeth) Tacuseth is pleased, and it radiates like the desert heat. « She can get it, » he says with certainty. « But I'll have to convince her to give it up. She doesn' like to give her things up for free. » He says like it's stating facts. Nevermind why would a tough girl like Jo would having shimmering pink cloth just lying around. (To Aeaeth from Tacuseth) To Tacuseth, Aeaeth projects « « Yesia would like it too, » the green suggests lightly, dangling one of those rainbow ribbons like a person does a cat in front of Tacuseth's mind. « She -- » an abrupt stop, and she disappears to check something before returning. Her colors swirl with a rapid, confusing frequency, except that one that still hangs in front of him like a promise. « Can you keep a secret? » « She would sleep under it, too? » Tacuseth seems to ponder that concept before something from the green picks up his full attention. His curiosity can almost be tasted, how strong it is. « I can, » he sends on keeping secrets, his tones of curiosity increasing. « Somethin' going on? » (To Aeaeth from Tacuseth) « It's a very big secret. I am not supposed to tell. » Her chimes have lowered, the colors have slowed like they might be pulled back with a flourish. « Yesia will not be happy if I tell. But I think she doesn't always do what is best for her. She is -- bad at other people. » That's not the secret. Obviously. The colors whirl, the chimes tinkle pleasantly, an the line she dangles drops the knowledge there, though she still feels the need to explain, « She thinks about your lady, ever since the other night. Not like, just thinking. » Does he get it? « You could both bring a blanket by. And then, we could curl up on my ledge -- and they could curl up inside... » Truly, how can he not see how genius this is? (To Tacuseth from Aeaeth) Tacuseth is a sucker for secrets. « Jo never does what is best for her, » he reveals too, commiserating with her. « Maybe they can both help each other? » Which, evidently, feeds into the secret revealed, the blue's amusement brought forth with warm and pleasant shadows. « Not just, » he echoes on thinking. « Like, » and well. He has visuals. One that has Jo for a rider, and with the history she has, it shouldn't be a surprise. It's graphic enough involving a lot of kissing and touching. Closeness. « But yers doesn't like... » girls, he doesn't finish (of course dragons listen). « Wouldn' she be upset? » (To Aeaeth from Tacuseth) « I heard what your rider said, » Aeaeth says dismissively, twisting around him in color, so much color and the coolness of ocean water. « She's supposed to try, anyways, say the weyrlingmasters. She has to before I make everyone, » everyone! « chase me around. It'll be so fun. » Anyways, « She doesn't like most girls, I think. Yours was not so bad, in the end. Not really. Better than...well, I like Akluseth quite a lot, and I don't think his rider is terrible either, but Yesia... » She rolls away on a breeze. « If it is bad, we can still sit on my ledge. » That's the important part. (To Tacuseth from Aeaeth) Tacuseth is considering both Aeaeth and her words, one can certainly believe. The winds in the shadows take an upward swing to suggest his agreement with trying, this experiment as it were. « They can't blame us anyway, » he rationalizes in his way, should it all go wrong. « My lady wouldn' let it go bad. They won' be able to go anywhere, anyway. » Not with him and Aeaeth, hanging out on her ledge. « We can find what to do with the basket. » He's on board, in other words. (To Aeaeth from Tacuseth) Tacuseth's reward is warmth, and mental cuddling, and the color of her pale hide in the sunlight. « Good, » she preens, ever pleased with their cleverness. « Surprise me. And they will surprise us. It will be the best day. » And there she is again, curling up on her ledge, avoiding that icky little puddle that is not as pleasant as she thought. She can wait, for surprises. (To Tacuseth from Aeaeth) Tacuseth is one that goes out of his way to please a green, and so his own blue shadows meld well as he sends, « I'll make sure she keeps her knives away. » That's important. « Don' even worry about it, babe. I'll handle it. » Their riders probably should be worried. (To Aeaeth from Tacuseth) « Don't forget it's a secret, » Aeaeth adds as a warning. « I have to go -- we have to meet Solith. » Her farewell is a trilling arpeggio, and she disappears with a toss of sea-salt smells and flash of blue -- his blue. (To Tacuseth from Aeaeth) |
Comments
Alida (00:46, 14 July 2015 (PDT)) said...
Ilicaeth could take some lessons in 'courting' from his best blue buddy. ;D
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