Logs:Ahtzudaeth Calling
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| RL Date: 22 October, 2015 |
| Who: Ellerey, Z'kiel, Ahtzudaeth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: On their way to return Ellerey to her family in Tillek, Ahtzudaeth (but not his rider) renege on the deal. |
| Where: HRW: Snowasis and Bowl |
| When: Day 3, Month 2, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: A chilly evening with light snow. |
| Mentions: Jocelyn/Mentions, Torlynna/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, H'vier/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Slightly fore-dated, since Zak's out on Friday. :) Also, slightly edited to change Nerat to Southern Boll. |
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| It's not much longer before those second batch of eggs are going to crack, and the Weyr - which has been in mourning over the loss of not only R'hin, but Savannah as well - is looking forward to something -happy-, for once. As such, the people in the Snowasis tonight are in better spirits than they've been in the past month, and one of them is Ellerey, the trader woman settled in one of the cozy booths this place sports. Before her is a tall glass of some amber beer, and the 3/4's full thing is lifted to her mouth for another sip, even as her singular boothmate rises to take his leave...looking a little flummoxed, for some reason. As he turns to depart, a small smirk twitches over the woman's mouth, her head shaking once before she returns to sipping her brew in silence. Indeed, it's getting close to the wire - and the Weyr is practically buzzing with anticipation. Z'kiel might well be the exception to the rule, gauging from his grim expression. He steps into the Snowasis with a narrowing of his eyes and a set to his jaw that speaks more of a man on a mission than one here for pleasure. The barkeep looks up expectantly, but is shut down with a mute, slight shake of the bronzerider's head. He loosens the scarves around his neck, peels off the skull cap that was on his head - 'Reaches colors, nothing especially fancy - and takes a step in and another to the side so he's not blocking the entrance for those that want in or out. Elle's not terribly concerned about who comes in or out, but she's curoius enough about her surroundings to look up every now and then. This time, it's to notice the suddenly-appeared form of Z'kiel at the entrance of the bar, the trader finding herself readily intrigued all over again at the small 'mystery' of such a grim-faced rider. After another sip of beer, she slowly rises to her feet, and makes an exaggeratedly-large wave of arm to the bronzerider. She's tall, so hopefully the motion will be noticable in the crowd. If she can catch his attention, a pointed jerk of chin at her booth seems to invite the man to join her, Ellerey then re-seating herself. 'Hnnnh. It's as Z'kiel's half-turning to leave that he catches that motion in his peripheral vision. The turn is stalled long enough for him to get a better look at the woman - and then he's turning, but to properly enter this time. His slow, measured stride carries him to her booth, though he doesn't immediately sit. A hand is placed at the back of the vacant side and he sucks his teeth for a moment before asking, in lieu of a greeting: "How's your leg?" It's a mild enough question - the kind that won't be pressed too fiercely if she doesn't answer. He glances at the empty booth seat, then at the remaining patrons of the Snowasis before, at long last, settling into the seat. It's in the way of one who doesn't expect to be there long, given givens, but he's there at least. There's a warm, if smaller smile on Ellerey's face for Z'kiel as he decides to join her, the trader simply watching him, remaining quiet as he soon takes the seat across from her. His inquiry is met with a small flash of a half-grin and a lift of her beer to him before she sips again, and soon notes in rich tones, "I'm cleared for Between, the Healers say." Beat. "Now if I can just pull my favorite bluerider away from her little neice..." Though she sounds, looks mostly bemused over her promised ride 'home,' there's something behind brown eyes that shows Elle's more than ready to leave. "How're -you-?" She lifts her beer and he dips his chin, echoing the sentiment if not the precise gesture. Z'kiel grunts once at her reply and his brow furrows anew, but the expression is fleeting and settles into grim neutrality readily enough. "Good to hear," he finally says, clearly in relation to her leg. The next, that elicits a faint snort. "Plenty of other riders can take you, if she's too busy." Another glance around - and at the entrance, of course - seems to be the catalyst for, "Supposed to meet someone here. If they don't show soon, we can take you." His attention settles on Ellerey again with another curt nod. "Well enough," he figures on that last. "He's not itching and the eggs are due to hatch soon." "You have -no- idea..." Ellerey murmurs with ample dry humor to Zak's word of her leg's healing being good news, the woman again sipping her beer. His word of others to take her home has the trader looking eager but guarded, her dark head bobbing even as her voice lets him know, "Guess I'm embarrassed over it." A look down at her once-bum leg presages a faint duck of chin after her gaze lifts back up to the bronzerider. "The way it happened." On a dragon. Sip, frown. "Don't want to have any of you" riders "think I'm some fucking idiot who can't mount up right." And then he's apparently offering a quick way to Tillek if things don't turn out...and brown eyes are looking guardedly, yet hopefully into greens for signs he's kidding her. After a moment, "I couldn't trouble you..." Really? Ah, then there's thoughts of those eggs, too, and Elle drops her gaze to her glass of beer, watching the slightly frothing head atop it for a few moments. "Saw a Hatching once, when I was a kid. Great time." She sounds mixed, now. "Don't be embarrassed. Happens sometimes." Z'kiel lets that hang a beat, then adds, "Not often, but-" It's good-natured, presumably. He settles back just a little and shakes his head, "Nah. Most people can't get it right. So. Don't apologize for it." Not that she is, but in case she gets that idea in her head, too, he'll nip it right in the bud. There's a thoughtful suck of teeth and, eventually, a confirming nod. "We'll take you," is definite; confident certainty at its finest. "No trouble. If I didn't, he'd probably take you himself. Stubborn." One eybrow lifts a bit at her latter admission, though he lets a bit of silence play out before: "Doesn't sound like it was. Could stick around, see this one. I've heard stories about the sire and the dam's one of Ahtzudaeth's sisters." "Thanks..." Ellerey replies with hints of pleasure and snark mixed, her eyes flashing once, her mouth smirking. He -will-? Er, -they- will?! She tries to conceal her utter relief and joy, but the lessening of small lines on Elle's face and that glint in her eyes speak loudly enough. Is she sipping her beer faster, now? You bet your ass. As for the previous Hatching, "No-no, it -was-. You know how kids are around all things dragon." A motion of fingers near temple shows 'loopy,' and the woman's soon looking mixed of feelings, again. Sigh. "Guess I'll say it outright: I -want- to go home." NEED to. "But I don't know if I'll ever get to see dragon eggs break again before I die." Sip. "First time was sheer luck." She's reluctantly mulling the idea over, and feeling pulled from both directions in the process...and then looking slightly surprised before murmuring, "Give Ahtzudaeth my thanks, as well, for offering." Another deep sip has her beer almost drained in full. "He's my favorite bronze, you know." Smirk. 'Hnnnh. Z'kiel's keeping an eye on her - or, more specifically, the level of beer left in her glass. "Some are like that," he agrees, though there's a guarded quality to his voice. "Especially the first time or two. Standing, that is." There's a pinch of his brows, a slight shake of his head, then: "We'll get you there. Finish that up. He's in his straps. Ready when you are." Not that he'll wait until she's done; it's when her drink is down to ostensibly gulpable levels that he pushes to his feet and waits. "Could come get you when they hatch," is offered, though without any expectation attached. "And if not this, then another. Plenty of golds still rising and getting caught. Plenty of time to catch a hatching." As for the last, there's a grunt, a nod, and an abrupt snrt of a sound. "Out of how many you've met," is mostly a question. A small arch of brows might seem to inquire further of Z'kiel's words, Elle deciding to let things lie when she notes that pinch of brows. When the man states their readiness, she's suddenly smiling warmly, gulping down the last of her beer, and responding to Zak's next words, "You're going to spoil me, sir bronzerider." Grin. There's hope in those brown eyes, though. "I think I'll take you up on that...and offer you a tour of my home, in the meantime. Er, if you -have- the time, of course." She's already donning the heavy woolen coat set beside her in preparation for the upcoming ride home, next her heavy knit hat (one pom pom only) as the bronzer inquires, Ellerey left to note a little roguishly, "I've yet to actually be introduced, face-to-face to any others. But I -have- observed up close the Weyrleader's partner, one of your Wingleader's bronze, and this rather self-effacing specimin, at various times." Beat. "Are so many of them usually full of themselves?" Twinkle. Knuckles thump gently on the back of the booth. Just once, but it's symbolic - ready to go. Z'kiel turns to lead the way out - and to the waiting bronze - but he'll answer over a shoulder: "Never a question of just having time. Gotta make it." There's a bob of his head as he pulls his hat on and starts cinching up the scarves. "We'll make time for it." There's a low, throaty sound - not quite laughter; more akin to a quashed cough - at that last. "Wouldn't know," he replies with remarkable flatness. "Ahtzudaeth gets on with all of them. He gets along with- ah. Everyone, it seems like. They might be so full of it that they're squeaking and he's not telling." A beat. "Wouldn't surprise me if that's the case." And, with that, he's headed out, into the light and lingering bit of snow - and where a certain bronze awaits. As they gear up and head outside, Ellerey's answering Z'kiel quietly from his side, "I guess I meant more their riders, since I've no real way to observe dragon interaction." No way to hear them interact with each other. As long legs keep easy pace with the bronzerider's own footsteps, the trader listens to word of Ahtzudaeth, a soft chortle escaping her lungs, pluming breath onto the chill air. Unbidden, "One of the few times I've ever seen snow, too." Mittened hands lightly wave through the air before them, sending tiny flakes whirling, her features touched with a certain delight at the sight...then turning wry quite suddenly. "I've had -enough-." Smirk. As they move out towards where Ahtzudaeth awaits, Elle can't help but hurrying a little, wanting to be with her family and friends again, and back at what she does best. Ahtzudaeth was resting on the ground - forepaws crossed in a posture that's downright prim - but, as soon as his rider and soon-to-be passenger emerge, he pushes to his feet. He ducks into a deep bow, maw gaped in a grin the likes of which she's seen before. Z'kiel grunts once at Ellerey's words, but there's naught to say of the riders; or, more likely, he's grown distracted by something. Absently, he remarks, "I was tired of it sevens ago. Just keeps coming. He likes it, but." He grimaces, but the grimace is - fortunately - mostly masked by the scarves he pulls up. "I'll get a proper jacket and helmet. Have a set on the bags. Other side of him." The side that's presently pointed away, that is, for the bronze seems intent on positioning himself properly for purposes of carrying people - or keeping that bag away from his rider. Rukbat only knows, really. Hnnnh. For that trademark grin and 'bow' of the bronze's, Ellerey responds with her own bow and a bright grin full of eagerness. "Good evening, Ahtzudaeth. Thanks again for this...to both of you." Looking over to distracted Z'kiel (all riders get distracted at odd times, she's noticed), the woman offers back, "You're welcome to visit us anytime. Usually it's Boll during the winter, but Tillek's what we'll endure, this round." Shrug. Southern Boll's nice and -warm-, though, if not dry. Huh? "Oh, no; you don't have to. I'm fine, really." Eager much? As Zak indicates those bags, she'll reluctantly and slowly move that direction, and finally seek to run a mittened hand over whatever bit of the bronze is closest. "Trust me." A beat. "Trust him." Z'kiel pauses and looks at the bronze, then askance at Ellerey, only to clarify, "He's insisting. Get the helmet. Get the jacket." A beat. "You have to. Apparently." It's well out of his hands, anyway, and the bronzerider steps aside, leaving Ellerey to get the things in question; it won't be hard, since there are only two bags attached to the beast. "We'll make some time to visit," he might not use the words 'I promise' but he still means it with all the weight he attaches. "Haven't been out that way all that often. Should probably get out more." Ahtzudaeth, however, is going to make things a little difficult. He'll press into her mittened hand, certainly; she'll get a good bit of his muzzle and jaw, even. But as soon as she gets close to the straps and attached bags, he'll take a sly step away, forcing some distance while he swings his head around to really look at her with a measure of rare intensity. And if he lifts a paw from the ground to waggle a finger at her in a very 'no, not just yet' kind of way, well. Just chalk it up to him and his oddness. "... what now." Z'kiel can't even shape that into half a question at this point. It's just a breath away from a facepalm. Blink. Oh. "Okay; if it'll make you feel better, Ahtzudaeth." Though she's eager to be gone, the woman seems to find the dragon's concern pleasing. As she listens to Zak, the woman plucks off one mitten, and seeks to rub and scritch at the pressing bronze's hide almost as if she would a runner, though Elle smiles at Ahtzu with easy warmth. To the departing man is called out, "It's cooler, but still somewhat mild for winter. My mother makes the -best- cornbread, I'll warn you." And, while he's otherwise occupied, -she'll- pluck off her other mitten and then offer the apparently greedy bronze more firm scritches and rubs about his jaw, head. "Shameless..." is her contralto chuckle to the dragon. But, it's back to business quickly enough, and those mittens are again donned, and the straps moved towards... but now -not-? The bronze is staring at her? Looking between Ahtzudaeth and Z'kiel - first with curiosity, then small concern - Elle finally inquires, "Something wrong?" Oh, wait. No! Not her leg! Her face twisting a little in fear that she might be denied her ride for medical reasons, the trader gawks down at her left leg, starts trying to prod at it. Silence uncoils from the rider-half; it's the dragon that's a bit noisier, issuing a sound that can only be described as a chuckle of all things. And, yes, he is shameless. Especially now. Ahtzudaeth moves back again, which puts him in a perfect position to really look at Ellerey - though whether he's paying special attention to that leg or not is nigh impossible to tell. Still, his eyes are awhirl with a downright mystical hue of blue-green that's rapidly skewing toward the blue end of the spectrum. "We'll have to try it sometime," Z'kiel finally says of the cornbread, maybe a full thirty seconds after that thread of conversation should have been left for dead. "But. Right now," the bronzer steps under the dragon and squints at her in a way that is, perhaps surprisingly, less intense than the dragon's own stare. "He wants to make sure we're taking you to the right place." This is noted with a sidelong look to the bronze that's answered with a snort. And then Ahtzu's sitting. "Your knot." Do traders even have knots? To be fair, Z'kiel himself looks a bit confused by the question, half as if he didn't know he was asking it. "He just wants to see that." Dubious, that. "Is there something wrong with it?" Ellerey's somewhat strained voice inquires of both Ahtzudaeth and Z'kiel as she gropes her own lower calf, trying to fee for something wrong in the bone. "Something only he can see?" Screw the cornbread. Staring into the bronze's green-blue eyes, the woman appears at a loss for more words, finally jerking her gaze over to Zak again as he speaks. "Tillek? Yes; not Boll, this Turn. They couldn't make it that far before winter started..." And now the bronze is sitting...and Elle's looking more and more unhappy, since she's apparently -not- going to be taken home. "What knot? I'm a trader." As she sweeps up from feeling her leg, one mittened hand unconsciously touches to her left shoulder, where rank would usually hang from most folk. For what it might be worth, the whole thing seems just as frustrating to Z'kiel - though, for now, he's handling it well with a clenched jaw and a sharp glare angled sidelong at the bronze. "No," he finally says. "Leg's fine. He knows you'll be alright to get up and down on him - and he's good at getting low to make it easier." The words are fairly grated out, though, as if some kind of pressure needs to be released and that explanation helps. Sort of. As Ellerey explains, Z'kiel gestures in a 'you see?' kind of motion at Ahtzudaeth - and the bronze will have none of it, with a definite shake of his head and another of those fixed stares. Finally, he lowers his head and stretches his neck out, intending to reach out to her with a low warble of - apology? That can't be it, can it? But: "No. I- he. He has a head for... for seeing what's missing," comes slowly. Deliberately. "It's- you have everything. But you don't have a knot. You don't have a home." A beat. "To him. Anyway. Ah." Z'kiel scrubs at his face, as if that might clear things up in his own head, but it's a struggle to parse whatever's coming through. "What I'm saying is, he thinks you're missing a knot for a reason. You're supposed to have one from here." The word is heavily weighted - and chased with a hard swallow. "I know you want to go to Tillek. He thinks you should stay here for another day. You won't need the knot long. Just a day." It's not quite getting at whatever's there, but give the man some credit for what he's dealing with. Ellerey appears to be growing a little more concerned for Z'kiel's reaction to what his bronze does, the woman finally sighing out her relief over her leg being judged whole. By a dragon. "Then why..?" Aren't they headed to Tillek? Now she's again looking between man and dragon, and starting to feel a little vexed when Ahtzudaeth shakes his head in what looks like a negative. "Well then, what -is- it, sir bronze?" she notes dryly to the staring bronze, Elle planting one mittened hand upon a cocked hip. Oh yes, she's staring right back, at least until Zak speaks again. "I never -wore- one from the Weyr in my whole three months here." A faintly irked look is offered again to the bronze, the woman still listening intently to his rider, though. "Let me get this straight..." is murmured with some self-restraint, with a certain edgy patience. "You..." A nod to the bronze "seconded your rider in agreement to take me home." A quick glance over to Zak soon finds her staring at the dragon again. "And -now- you've changed your mind? Because you want me to stay here and see the eggs crack." To Ahtzudaeth's credit, he's standing - well, sitting - his ground rather nicely. His head does remain extended, though, and there's another warble from him - but it's not apologetic this time. It has another quality to it, one that seems to set Z'kiel to bristling just a touch. "He does this every time, it feels like," he finally says and steps forward, closing most of the gap between where he was and where Ellerey is - as if to provide some buffer between woman and bronze. "He's calling, but he can't just say that's what it is. Can't make it easy." He sucks his teeth and looks from dragon to trader, then back to dragon and trader for a second round. "He thinks you need one of the white knots." Pause. Correction: "He knows you need one of the white knots. Candidate knots. The Headwoman has them." His jaw tenses a little, then releases with a sigh of resignation. "So. Will you Stand, Ellerey? Will you answer that call?" This, at least is said directly to her - and if he can catch and hold her eyes for it, all the better. Somber, those words; serious. Heavy. She'd never even think of pummeling a dragon, so why is Zak moving between them? Ellerey looks confused for a moment, then simply shrugging as she listens to what the human half of this partnership has to say. MmmHm. Okay... wait what? Now she looks confused again...then quickly cognizant, and finally worried/surprised/eager. Only for a spare half-second did it look like she might impulsively accept, but her own innate maturity plus Z'kiel's somber intensity have the trader holding her silence, and looking between the bronze, the man, and the stone of the Weyr a little ways off. At some point, one mittened hand lifts to her forehead, and rubs hidden fingers there, the trader's thoughts turned inwards for a time. When it comes, it's low, a little throaty, but as firm as Zak's own voice once was in its decision. "Yes." A finger is raised before her on the air beneath that mitten, however. "On the condition that you'll both take me home right after those dragonets've found their humans." A small shrug finds her explaining just a little, "One more day or so can't hurt, I guess. And who am I to naysay sir sits-a-lot?" A small eyeroll and jerk of thumb over to Ahtzudaeth is given, Ellerey soon shaking her hatted head. To both partners is muttered, "I've seen those candidates. Most are still children, and the ones that aren't..." Her lips thin some. He's patient. They're patient. Z'kiel doesn't press - and it might seem that Ahtzudaeth is holding his breath a little. Maybe. It's only when she answers in the affirmative that some unconscious tension works its way free from the man's shoulders - and Ahtzudaeth offers a gaped grin and gets to his feet. "If that's how it goes," Z'kiel replies - slow and deliberate again - "then we'll take you back. Even buy you a drink before - or after." This is confirmed with a firm nod from the bronze, though there's another of those low sounds from him. A knowing sound. It's worth a bit of side-eye from Z'kiel, anyway. "It's just one day. You won't have to sleep in the barracks with the rest of them for sevens on end," is some small consolation. Hnnnh. "He's had his nose on a few of them. Jocelyn. Torlynna." The two Candidates are ticked off on his fingers. "They seem solid." No: "Mature." is the correct word there. "You'll be in good company with them. Funny thing about Hatchings: everyone grows up quickly. Have to." Even if it might seem he wasn't one of them, given givens. She's usually patient, too. Good thing for everybody, this time. "Oaf..." is noted of Ahtzudaeth's 'grin,' the bronze smirked at. "While I shouldn't be the person to call a dragon's abilities into question..." Apparently Ellerey still -is- unconvinced about the bronze's choice, though he manages to sound certain. Swinging around to fully face Z'kiel, the slowly cooling-down woman offers up her own take on the situation with, "Or two or three. Not even the dragonhealers can tell the exact moment, so I've heard." Sigh. Word of the two candidates has her mouth twisting a little, Elle finally admitting, "Haven't seen those two, I guess." Beat. "Hopefully we'll be able to not want to kill each other by the time those eggs crack." But wait, there's more! "I just thought of this, so I'll warn you now: I'll accept that literal white knot from the Headwoman a few hours from now. I want another drink, and to stay up later than some silly child." Those brown eyes stare over at the dragon for a moment, as if to impress her wish fully on him, then return to do the same with Zak. "If the eggs decide to suddenly break before then, you can have Ahtzudaeth confirm to somebody that he picked me." A slow arching of one brow is lofted over her shoulder to the dragon, then subsiding as she looks back to the man. "Yeah... sometimes too quickly." Ahtzudaeth certainly won't deny the nickname, such as it may be. He chortles this time, and settles in comfortably once more, maw seemingly permanently cracked in that grin of his. Troublesome, really. Z'kiel grunts at something or another, then nods - if a bit slowly - to Ellerey's concerns. "Could be. No more than a seven. If it is," and he holds up a hand in a gesture his lifemate made not all that long ago, "we'll make it up to you." Somehow. Best not to try to plan that in advance. Another nod, then a sidelong look is angled to Ahtzudaeth at roughly the same time that the trader is looking at him. Some kind of communion takes place for the man says, "He didn't say just when you had to get the knot." This might be Z'kiel playing whatever the Pernese equivalent of the Devil's Advocate is. "So long as you get it, he'll be happy." A chuff from the bronze prompts: "Before the eggs hatch. Or during. If you get it after, he'll be... cross." Not his word for it. "Either way, he'll be there when the eggs start to hatch. He'll make sure they know you're one of his." He rubs the bridge of his nose, blows out a sigh, and reaches into a pocket with his free hand. "Have a few marks. Get yourself a couple of drinks. Something to eat. If you want." And of growing up too quickly, there's naught to say - not from the likes of him. |
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