Logs:Welcomes
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| RL Date: 11 June, 2012 |
| Who: Azaylia, Brieli, K'del |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: K'del wants to welcome Brieli and Iesaryth back. Cadejoth ends up being problematic. |
| Where: Weyrling Training Cavern, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
| Weyrling Training Cavern, High Reaches Weyr All the furniture here has been pushed to one side of the room to allow a large pathway opposite: room enough to let weyrling dragons pass from the bowl's archway to the cavernous barracks at the back. None of the furniture matches, either: it varies from big cushioned, claw-footed chairs to those of plain wood, while the most seating is at the two stone tables ringed by low and equally hard stone benches. Without the tapestries that decorate many of the Weyr's other interior spaces, the room always echoes with noise, no matter how few are there. What it does have, however, are several colorful murals: on one wall, a detailed diagram of a dragon's anatomy; opposite, next to a creaky wooden door, a number of painted and labeled wing formations. Near the entrance is a large-scale version of the Weyr's badge, while the back wall, by the barracks, features a detailed map of the continent. The latter area's also home to one big, beat-up couch, black or maybe blue -- the thing's so old and filthy it's hard to tell, though it's certainly comfortable. It's not precisely a common thing, for the Weyrleader to show up in the weyrling barracks - not even these days, when the lousy weather makes it harder for him (and the rest of the weyr) to get a proper look at the babies. And yet, here he is, chatting quietly with Meara just outside her office door, as Cadejoth cautiously checks for Iesaryth's state of awake before rattling his chains in her direction. « We'd like to meet you! » He seems quite excited about the prospect, too - and extends forward the imagery of a mesh, and Iesaryth amidst it. His mesh; his weyr. She's his, now. Iesaryth is awake enough, warm waves of the ocean stretching out to break across the mesh, flow through it. Water can go anywhere, to anyone, too fluid and fast to hold. More prosaically, perhaps amused by the literality of her addition, « You need a bucket. » C'mon, Cadejoth. Keep up. « Can you come in here? » She seems dubious of this, plucking an image of the bronze from Brieli's memories. Very big. As for Brieli herself, she takes a few moments to appear - given warning, she'll maybe run a brush through her hair and tie it back, make sure she's not completely disgusting before she appears in the training cavern, glancing around curiously. Her dark gaze eventually falls on K'del with Meara near her office; with an arch of fine brows, she heads in his direction, footsteps slow enough that she'll not interrupt before she's noticed. Cadejoth, to be honest, seems genuinely delighted by that water, and asserts, « I prefer it this way. » Also? « You still belong. » Whether she can be contained inside his mesh or not! His reply to her question is an illustration of their difference in size, one that shows some small amount of dismay, and is followed by the admission that, « I'll have to see through K'del. It's too wet outside. » She should stay safe. "And they're doing well?" K'del's conversation with Meara is largely superficial, his question rapidly followed by the weyrlingmaster's confirmation of the status of her weyrlings. Blue eyes do catch sight of Brieli before she's close enough to intercept; a moment later, K'del is nodding his farewells to Meara so that he can turn and say, "Brieli. Welcome home." Iesaryth sends breezes Cadejoth's way, salt-scented and fresh from far out, beyond the land. Pleased, « It still keeps other things out. Hraedhyth will like that. And I know. But thank you. I appreciate it. » And she does, the sincerity is obvious in her tenor, the cadence very much like the rush and retreat of the waves. With a brief memory of snow, dark clouds, « She says the same, Brieli. She doesn't like the wet very much either. » Speaking of her rider - she stops as K'del greets her, offering him a nod and a brief smile; she's still composed, but about as tired as any of them are - all of the weyrlings likely have the same glazed look about them. "Thank you, Weyrleader. It was a nice change, but I did find myself feeling like... I was home when we returned." "Home," says K'del, and coming from his mouth it seems approving; so too does his nod. "Good; glad to hear it. And you're, uh, settling in again? You and - Iesaryth?" Now that he's here, there's something awkward about him, a though he's not entirely sure what to say. Still, his smile does seem genuine. « You and Hraedhyth enjoy each other, » is Cadejoth's reply, not a question for all that it hints at being one. The rattle of bones is an idle gesture, one that approves of her salty breezes, and aims to keep them twined around his own mental chains. « There are many good things about the wet, but getting dry afterwards makes few enthusiastic. The cold, too. But the skies are clear and perfect for flight. » Brieli has the grace to ignore any awkwardness, though there's a bemused look about her, around dark eyes - what's up with that? The other tall, dark goldrider in the barracks is standing with the Weyrleader near Meara's office, sliding stained and roughened hands in her pockets as they talk - the weyrling seeming oddly more at ease. "We really didn't have much time to settle in down there - not that I remember, at least. Though we were made welcome." Some memory brings forth a smile. "And we are here, more or less. There's a lot of sleeping. I try to stay awake, but..." She shrugs. Not so much yet. Iesaryth is pleased with the way her breezes can rattle Cadejoth's chains, the surf pounding constantly in the background. « Her fires make lovely patterns in my water. We are allies. » The little gold is bright enough to use the right word, but is immediately distracted by flight flight flight. « I want to go back. » Now, if possible. Later, she's been told. Awkwardly moving limbs, that's Azaylia as she exits the barracks. Legs threaten to buckle, arms swinging weightily at her sides, she doesn't cover her mouth at the wide yawn that escapes her. "M'up, m'up..." Hraedhyth is behind, butting the small of her weyrling's back impatiently. Curls are a tangled mess, clothes disheveled, she passes by Brieli and K'del both without a glance. Hard to do, with closed eyes. Hraedhyth is much less oblivious, freezing suddenly in her stride and slooowly turning her head to regard her sire and His. Next to Iesaryth. A growl, but it's likely from hunger. Still, she lifts her clubs slightly, making the bigger gold look that much more so. K'del's laugh is rueful, and full of fond recollection. "Remember how that felt," he reports, looking more comfortable for being able to latch on to this. "It really does get easier, but it takes time. And-- hard, given the others are finally beginning to get better." That's genuine sympathy, right there, though his gaze is sliding away from Brieli and towards Azaylia a moment later. "Good morning, Azaylia." « Allies, » says Cadejoth, testing out the word in quiet surprise. « Good. You will-- » He shares the imagery, then, of wings caught in flight, winds hurtling them onwards. « One day. In time. You will certainly fly again, as often as you like. But - 'back'. Why do you wish to go back? » This, surely, is where she belongs, now! His thoughts extend, expanding to include Hraedhyth with a rattle of cheerful bones. "That..." Brieli pauses a moment as she hears a familiar mumble and a more familiar growl nearby; turning with a grin, though a tired one, "Good morning, Azaylia." Hraedhyth gets a little wave. "That is a little difficult. She sees the others and wants to do what they do; she knows how, but isn't able to. It bothers her. Already." There's a bit of wonderment to her tone, also exhaustion. Maybe it takes a lot of arguing. Iesaryth stretches her oceanfront out to include Hraedyth's plains, firepits all ready to be lit up; she's excited to show Cadejoth how nice they look. « I want to go back in the sky, just like that. By myself. But someone can carry me again. » She'll take either. "Mmhm, mmhm." Both greetings are sleepily acknowledged with a wave, though clearly not processed. Who is he again? Who is she? Azaylia bends to grab a hunk of raw bovine, letting it drop wetly onto the designed chopping block. Another yawn, and this she waits to pass before using that large butchering knife gripped in her hand. Hraedhyth, rather than follow the food, turns and lumbers over to where Iesaryth is. Her dark plains are there, waiting to meet the sea. Though perpetually shadowed there doesn't seem to be a storm brewing. Not a battle, either. « I will carry you. » Hraedhyth's youthfully rough tones are shoved forward, meant to interrupt Cadejoth if she needs to. There's no fire yet, the dragonet still shaking off her lingering slumber. There is that continuous rumble of hunger, making itself physical as she forcefully nudges past K'del's legs and sits next to her smaller sister. « No one will need to carry you, eventually. » And there will be no carrying, is Cadejoth's implication, though it is a gentle one, one that encourages patience that he's not well known to possess himself. « By the time you could carry her, Hraedhyth, she will be large enough to fly by herself. » He shows them the image of it, too: two queens, so very different, enjoying High Reaches' spires together. « I bet they'll let you eat off the beast soon, » he adds, though that's mostly to the larger of the pair. "That would be difficult," allows K'del, nose wrinkling as he turns his attention back on Brieli. "It's only a couple of weeks, but... seems to make all the difference, in the end." « You can't fly yet either. » Iesaryth doesn't sound like she thinks Hraedhyth will care, or let this stop her, but feels she must point this out. The rest, she'll leave to Cadejoth, who's older and Hraedyth's sire, after all. He should have some influence. She likes the image of the two golds in the skies above High Reaches; takes a piece of it to store away somewhere to remind her of what will be. For a little while. Brieli watches Azaylia start to chop meat with some little concern, given the other weyrling's state of consciousness, as she tells K'del, "It just makes her impatient. I would think I will be as well, eventually. Especially when we're the only ones left in here. But it is what it is." « Y-yes, well... » Hraedhyth's voice cracks awkwardly at being called out, tail swaying slowly until it finds Iesaryth's and crosses with hers. Rather than crumble, she hefts her clubbed wings higher and challenges Cadejoth with a howl- just because she can! Fires alight upon Iesaryth's shores with sudden intensity, with them carrying the scent of roasting meats. Hunger is mulled over with savory thoughts, watching Cadejoth's image with suspicious curiosity. A snort, and she corrects it with smokey, imperfect bodies of bronzes and browns. Not chasing- but certainly /theirs/. Azaylia gives a start at that bellow, digging the bloodied heel of her palm into her eyes. "O-oh! Weyrleader. Brieli. Morning." Cheerful, she'll keep rubbing, nevermind the fingers of that hand are curled around the knife. "Hraedhyth is behaving." Both question and reassurance, not yet feeling the gold's (now) infamous temper. Cadejoth is not inclined to howl, himself, this morning, but he seems to enjoy Hraedhyth's, and rattles his chains at her in reply, sparks flying merrily around them. « Oh yes, they will fly with you, » he confirms for the elder queen's image, quite content with it. « But you can fly with anyone you please, really. One day, you too will lead. » This pack of his, this pack that, his thoughts hint at, may not then be his. "It would be worse if she were a green," points out K'del. "Sometimes the greens take longer to be able to do things, the really little ones. So she might be roughly aligned with them, in the end." To Azaylia, then, a warmer smile: "Good to hear it. You're doing all right, Azaylia?" Iesaryth's tail gives Hraedhyth's a little pat before the smaller gold starts at the howl, still not used to her sister's sudden shifts in mood. But then there's dancing firelight on rolling waves, and charred meat-scent to mix with salty air to carry over plains and chains and bones. « You should eat. » She also likes the image, despite the imperfection of the other dragons, and takes that too. The younger queen doesn't really jump at the idea of leading like she did flying; all that will come. "Azaylia, mind the knife," Brieli almost pleads, a little pained from the effort of not saying anything yet. "And she's fine, she just wanted to carry Iesaryth." She rolls her eyes, like 'what is up with these dragons'. To K'del, "It's true, I shouldn't complain. She's like to catch up to this one towards the end, and they'll be racing or comparing wingspan in no time." Azaylia nods her head, though luckily the blade doesn't come any closer to her scalp as she does. "Uh huh. Just sleepy." She answers K'del, though her fellow weyrling's concern manages to get her attention. "Uh? Oh. Sorry Brieli." For worrying her, though Azaylia sounds unbothered as both hands are lowered (carefully). Hraedhyth's mood switches again, the flames dancing joyfully, drums pounding in an answer to Cadejoth's chains. His bones, she eyes covetously, not at all ashamed to scavange those from her sire. « I know. » The gold is sure of her place at the head of the pack, but that is for later. For now, « Mine is preparing food. » Though there's an echo of something in those drumbeats, flames slowing to a curious flicker. « ...eat off the beast? » « Yes! » Cadejoth does not mean, unfortunately, killing the beast, but he shows what he does mean: a whole carcass, right there, ready to be eaten off whole, not in those little baby chunks. Much more satisfying, yes? He seems utterly amused by the pair of them, all his intention engaged upon them. « Soon. And soon enough you will be killing them, too, and flying, and-- » Wonderful things! K'del only really seems to register the knife now that it's been mentioned, and looks briefly concerned - his expression relaxes, finally, as the elder weyrling lowers her hands. "Anyway," he says. "Mostly just wanted to make sure you were settling in okay. That you had everything you need. It's-- well. We're glad to have you both, Brieli. And you too, Azaylia." Iesaryth's breezes whisper around fires and plains and bones, amused herself - though she does have to tell Cadejoth, « Hraedhyth is a warrior. She will not like it as much until she can hunt it herself. » She imagines a lethal club-winged gold on the edge of the feeding grounds, poised to strike. No bushes, alas. As for the lankier gold... she's fine with being fed for now. Flying, however... Looking at the Weyrleader with a touch of disbelief, Brieli tells Azaylia, "Just don't cut your hair off." Or your head. Offering K'del a slight smile, her tone almost reassuring, "I do. And I know. It's fine. We're fine. If there's anything you're concerned about... just ask." Glancing down to the pair of golds, "They're funny. But they seem to fit." This must be news to Hraedhyth, not actually seeing the beasts due to the weather. And surely Azaylia has not been keen on putting such ideas into her head. « Kill..? » There's a sinister hiss from those flames, hunger growing as well as her intrigue. Iesaryth's image only fuels her, tawny gold hide tight over tense muscles, dragonet visibly quivering with excitement. « Hunt. I would like to... hunt. » Hraedhyth suddenly explodes with another bellowing howl, charging towards the butchering station just as Azaylia has finished. The young woman doesn't stand a chance, bucket distracting her long enough to be bowled over, "Hrae!" On her rump, the gold dragonet has her muzzle into the bucket, taking her frustrated hunger out on the flesh. "I'm okay." Azaylia will pick herself up, dust off, and walk towards Weyrleader and weyrling. "I'm glad to be here. And glad Brieli's with me." Ow, rubbing the tush. « Oops. » Cadejoth seems pretty disappointed in himself at this particular turn of events; K'del looks horrified. "I - uh, shells. You're okay?" Azaylia may have already said as much, but the Weyrleader looks nonetheless concerned, wide eyed and wary. He glances around, as if desperately hoping to be rescued by a Weyrlingmaster, but if they're concerned, they're not rushing in to action. "Maybe I should keep Cadejoth away from... If there's anything you need, either of you, you'll come and ask? We're here to support you, if you need it." And as soon as he has replies to that, he's going to hie himself away - and distract Cadejoth, too, though the bronze is glad to add a, « Soon! » before he's drawn back into the rest of the world. |
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