Logs:Human Business
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| RL Date: 23 February, 2013 |
| Who: Taikrin, Azaylia |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: After talking with Brieli, Taikrin sees if she can convince Azaylia to support her as Acting. It goes okay. |
| Where: Hatching Galleries/Sands, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 25, Month 1, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Brieli/Mentions, H'kon/Mentions, Liv/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Takes place directly after To The Future. |
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| Hatching Galleries, High Reaches Weyr Ringing the southwestern side of the hatching sands are ample tiers of carved stone benches, the lowest of which is some six feet off the ground -- just high enough to separate wayward hatchlings from unwary viewers, and vice versa. A metal railing on the outside helps prevent anyone from falling off; it also extends up the stairs that lead the way higher into the galleries. While most of the area is open seating, ropes section off some of the closer tiers when dignitaries are expected; those areas even feature cushions in the Weyr's blue and black. The higher one climbs, the more apparent the immense scale of the entire cavern becomes. The dragon-sized entrance on the ground is dwarfed by the expansive golden sands that glitter in the light. Everything on them is easily visible from the galleries, whether that's a clutch of eggs and a broody queen, or simply its emptiness and the handful of darker tunnels that lead to more private areas than the bowl. Wherever one sits or looks, however, one thing is constant: the overwhelming, suffocating heat. To Hraedhyth, Szadath has been away, working, leaving only the two queens to guard the eggs. And now, though he doesn't return physically, his mind returns to Hraedhyth like iron filings to a magnet. « Hraedhyth. Taikrin. She looks for yours. There is something important. » The very cadence of his voice falls, all unintentionally, into rhythm with her mind. Iron filings to be melted by the wave of stifling heat that claims him, welcoming Szadath with far too much intensity. It is how Hraedhyth has been, guarding both clutches as well as her fellow gold. Would he have it any other way? « We are here. » The galleries, which are so rarely private, are scarcely populated when the warrior queen is awake. Just how she likes it. (Hraedhyth to Szadath) Taikrin and Szadath enter at roughly the same time: Szadath, to the sands, and Taikrin to the galleries. The brown hesitates, head swinging towards Iesaryth briefly, before he shakes it off and tromps in to greet Hraedhyth and the combined clutch with a low, pleased rumble. Taikrin, meanwhile, reserves her enthusiasm and instead offers only a bright smile up into the galleries from where she hesitates on the landing. Hraedhyth's head snaps up as Szadath' enters, bone clubs at half-mast, jaws parted in anticipation to defend Hers. The other gold and her clutch also fall under this, likely unwanted, claim. Even as she recognizes her mate, the queen doesn't fully relax but she does extend a fond headbutt in greeting. Azaylia is slow to stand once she catches sight of Taikrin, knitting left on the row as she begins to ease towards the brownrider. She's visibly exhausted, slow, and it shows even more in the tentative smile she offers, "Szadath said it was important?" Soft voice isn't likely to be overheard, even by the few souls in the nosebleed seats. It's possible they've snuck in, or they're far enough to appease the more aggressive queen. "Hey, Azaylia." Taikrin seems calm, confident, and in control-- weird, when one considers the chaos H'kon has caused in the last few days and how upset she's been about it. "Everything alright in here?" She might be avoiding the question, but she's quick to come to Azaylia's side and offer her a one-armed hug while Szadath returns the headbutt. He's cautious around the eggs, his movements slow and careful, as he lowers his nose to inspect the nearest. "You doing okay?" "In here." Azaylia murmurs, the only affirmative she feels confident in answering. The weyrwoman is all too receptive to the hug, pressing in tight-- though it's unclear whether Taikrin is the cause, or she's just desperate for affection. Her eyes turn to the sands, smile gaining some strength as Hraedhyth turns the careful headbutt into a nuzzle. Szadath is welcome to inspect, and no doubt the queen is filling him in on all that he's missed. It's more than one would expect, but mothers have always been good at talking about their offspring. Their silent, still offspring. It might come as a surprise to many who didn't see him the last time this happened, but Szadath is an attentive clutch-sire. He's happy to share in Hraedhyth's observations, and to speculate about the muzzy, unformed minds that will soon be emerging. He's more interested in Hraedhyth, of course, but the eggs often hold a prominent spot in his mind. "Hey, hey. Want to tell me what's up?" Taikrin's gentle as she seeks to guide Azaylia back to her seat: her focus is entirely on the younger woman, watching her as she watches the sands. Of course Hraedhyth is a terrible threat to those who want to look at the eggs and keep warm. Possessive of both mate and clutch, it doesn't wane with with Szadath being close, though there might be a hint of something in their interaction. Not soft- no weakness during her watch, but certainly warm. "Not really." Azaylia answers in an exhale, leaning on the shorter woman and all too easily led back to her knitting. "If I don't do anything, I'm hurting the Weyr. If I try, I hurt the Weyr." Sounds an awful lot like telling Taikrin what's up. "I sh..." A swallow. "I should be transferred." To do damage elsewhere. "Oh, Azaylia, Azaylia! Don't say that. Hey, hey, take it easy." Taikrin is a warm, if hard, side for the weyrwoman to lean against, and a comforting arm around her shoulders. "Your place is here, you know that. Things are a little crazy right now, but we'll fix it. I'll fix it. Everything's going to be okay. Let me take care of you." There are lips brushing feather-light near Azaylia's temple, but then Taikrin's leaning forward to try and catch her eye. "Hey. Look at me, yeah? Do you trust me?" There are no tears, not that it keeps Azaylia from sounding any less miserable, "I can't stand it. I can't stand the thought that I'm hurting my home. The people I care about." Her voice is tight, speaking through a throat that wants to close up. Those lips have her tensing only to melt further into Taikrin, eyes half-lidded as she stares past the brownrider's attempts to catch her eye. Eventually, she'll look over and give the nod along with another faint swallow. "I don't want to. ...It hurts." To trust, to have it broken. "Oh Azaylia." It's a sigh this time, and a benediction. "You have all the right intentions. There's just-- it ain't enough time." Taikrin tugs her closer yet, moving to take one of Azaylia's hand with her free one. "I know it hurts. I want to make you stop hurting. I know how, I think, if you trust me. Just a little. Just enough to do the right thing. I don't want everyone to be hurting anymore." "Do I?" The goldrider doesn't sound so sure, not that she's making any attempt to argue with Taikrin. "That's not what people tell me." There's nothing bitter in Azaylia's tone. She's simply lost. "Not enough time for me to grow up. To stop being selfish." Old wounds from various sources resurface, doing little to worsen her mood. "I trust you." She helps to tuck herself against the brownrider's side, hand giving a weak squeeze that could be of thanks, or simply her enjoying the contact. To Taikrin, Szadath projects low amusement at how long Taikrin takes to get around to it. « Why do you make it so complicated? Did you not fly her? Is she not our mate? Tell her what you will do, and be done. » To Szadath, Taikrin projects, « I got this. Leave the human stuff to me and just try to keep your queen from biting your face off again, huh? » "So let's give you time. Faranth, you're so young. I forget sometimes, you know? It's easy to forget, because they're not young like we are. Two turns old, and they're grown and mature." It's the moment of truth, and Taikrin hesitates just a breath. "Let me take care of you. Just for now, just until we get everything sorted. No longer than until one of the queens rises again-- you never know, they might do it pretty quick. Give you time to learn, and heal, and time for the Weyr to get back on its feet. We can't have the wings at odds with each other, and it hurts my heart to see you and Brieli fight. You have a good heart, Azaylia, you just need time." The longer Taikrin speaks, the more Azaylia begins to fidget. Her muscles tense in some moments only to relax, and so on. No doubt the brownrider will be able to feel with how close they are, and it's only when she's relaxed some does the goldrider speak, "How are you going to take care of me?" There's no suspicion, but perhaps a hint of fear for all of the brownrider's insisting. Tense. "Let me lead the Weyr. Officially. The wings are upset, and they got to have one person in charge and it can't be H'kon. He's not strong enough to stand up when he needs to." Taikrin's still got one of Azaylia's hands tight in her own. "And you can't have a Weyrleader without a Weyrwoman. I'll offer to make H'kon my second, and you should offer to be Brieli's second. You can still work together, same as ever, but it'll look to everyone like you all speak with a unified voice. And then, when we got time and room again, we can put everything together." There's a note of anxiety undermining Taikrin's attempt at cool confidence. "I know it ain't exactly what you want to hear. It ain't ideal. But it's the only thing I can think of, that seems fair?" To Taikrin, Pithy comments, from Szadath: « You are so bad at this. You couldn't fly a randy green with a busted wing if it weren't for me. » To Szadath, Taikrin projects, « Shut the fuck up, Szad, if you ain't gonna help me! » Azaylia gives a startled jump, sitting up straighter in order to find Taikrin's gaze. "H'kon is strong. He's one of the strongest people I know." Her voice cracks, guilt flashing all too clearly in her wide eyes. Bad start. Worse finish, from the way she's trying to snatch her hand from the brownrider's, eyes darting as she makes an attempt to compose herself. "H'kon caught Brieli. I don't care if she hates him, I don't care i-if you don't think he's strong enough." Perhaps she cares a more for the latter, focus shifting down to her hands. "It's not fair." The situation, as well as what that would do to H'kon, "I'm not going to hurt him again. If you want to be Breili's Weyrleader, fine. But not if there's someone else who has the same claim." Her eyes narrow, squinting away from the older woman as she hugs herself tight. To Szadath, Hraedhyth has been there, but now that harsh focus is aimed at him with intent. « Is it Iesaryth's eggs you guard? » Not that she's shared which eggs belong to who, but the accusation is there. « We do not need you. » Spurned on by her rider's upset, « You » Both brown and rider, « Are welcome to leave. » Drums thunder on, mingling well with the queen's growl. "Azaylia." Taikrin releases Azaylia's hand, but she's resting hers on the weyrwoman's knee instead. "Stop. Please. I ain't saying he ain't strong. I wouldn't offer him second if I didn't think he was. But he ain't a leader. Look at what he's doing. He'll make me a great second, but as it is he's just doing whatever anyone points him at. I don't want to be Brieli's Weyrleader, but look at where we are. Azaylia, look at me. Someone's got to do the hard stuff, right now. Like taking medicine, or cauterizing a wound. A little hurt, to just the right little spot, to make all the hurting stop. To make your hurting stop." And then Szadath is rearing back, startled, and Taikrin's voice rises in command. "Azaylia! Stop!" To Hraedhyth, Szadath's startlement is genuine, though even as he rears back he's cautious of exactly where he puts each paw and tail and wingtip. « I guard you. Our eggs. Our eggs. All eggs! » Even with the queen's rage directed at him, he draws strength from the angry thunder in her mind. It echoes through him yet, powering his reverb, powering his confusion and earnestness. « You are mine! We belong to you! » From the sands, Iesaryth, who's been dozing this whole time, stirs only slightly as Szadath rears back, opens lids slowly, one after the other. Hraedhyth's gaze is even more crimson than usual, stare locked on the brown as her head wedges between him and the eggs. Her growls echo throughout the galleries, tawny dragon visibly rocking as she shifts her weight back and forth. "Just like I'll make a great junior?" Now she's bitter, and Azaylia winces after her own words. "Sorry. I'm sorry. I know you're trying, Taikrin. You're better than I am, for that reason." Hraedhyth slowly ceases in her shifting, likely due to the tired stare her rider is giving the sands. "I don't want Brieli as Senior. She lies. She lies. If you knew--" But, "She's better than I am, too." Her eyes close, fingers biting into her shoulders, "If you can get H'kon to agree, then you can both be better together." To Taikrin, Szadath panics as only Taikrin is allowed to see. « STOP STOP I WILL FIX IT STOP YOU ARE TERRIBLE. » To Szadath, Hraedhyth is not so cruel as to block him mentally, even as she physically lays claim on her eggs. « Yours belongs to many. » Which doesn't seem to be a problem, so much as it is an excuse to wonder the same of Szadath. There's a calm forced upon her, shifting the flames that no longer wish to burn, but to claim. They consume him, wrapping him up in her savage fire, « Mine. » No other golds'. With less severity, « You guard our eggs. » "You are a great weyrwoman, and one day very soon you will be a great senior." Taikrin manages to remain calm through Azaylia's storm, but it's a near thing. It's Szadath who backpedals to give space, head low and gaze white-pink-red-yellow in his confusion. The noise he's making is not quite a croon and not quite a moan, but something twisted in between. "I don't know, because you haven't told me. If there's something I need to know about Brieli, you need to tell me." She hasn't stopped touching-- now her other hand is on Azaylia's shoulder, fingertips brushing gently. "It's not for forever. Just until we can calm everyone down and get strong again. And it's only in title. Just to give voice. The four of us-- we're still a council. Everyone's thoughts still count. You still count. You are important, still. You're the future-- let me do the dirty work, so you don't have to. I want your hands to be clean." Taikrin's trying at a smile, a little one that's self-effacing and maybe even sweet if you squint. "I don't want you dirtied. You deserve a whole Weyr that can love you for you." To Hraedhyth, Szadath is cautious, so cautious. Not to accept the scourging flames as his due, because those he welcomes with relief. Rather, it's to venture. « Mine does human business. It is very complicated. I am yours. I guard our eggs. » Szadath, in the end, is a simple dragon. He shares with Hraedhyth the mesh he has built, strung along out of the influence he borrows from her that chains together Glacier, parts of Snowdrift. « I serve only you. » "One day isn't now." Azaylia mumbles, brows gathering in a pinch over eyes that are still closed. For one tense moment, her lips part as if she's willing to explain all... only to have her mouth snap shut. She looks ill for it, head giving a shake that has loose locks flying this way and that: nothing Taikrin needs to know. "Brieli's running the Weyr fine on her own." It comes out as a whisper, making it hard to pluck any one emotion from her words. Certainly bitter, at least. "I don't care if I'm important. I don't care if people like me. The only thing I care about is this Weyr." Her eyes open, finding Taikrin with a gaze that is steady only in this, "You can't make me hurt H'kon." Again. "Just like he couldn't make me hurt you." She stands, slipping out from under Taikrin's hand in order to move towards the steps. "I'm not good for the Weyr. But neither is someone who... feels that she's owed?" She repeats the words despite being uncertain of their meaning, and it shows. "I'm going to check on Szadath." She begins to head down the steps. To Szadath, Hraedhyth understands his caution, even if her lessened temper reveals that she's apologetic. « Human business. » She gives the words a savage shake within her jaws, eventually tossing them away. Dismissed. The queen takes her time in looking over that mesh, stroking the brown's ego not unlike a weyrling. It's very good! After a moment, she shifts none too subtly back to their offspring, if the painfully vibrant egg is even his. The gold isn't telling, « This one grows brighter each day. » "You are good for the Weyr. You will be better. Azaylia, listen to me, Szadath's fine." While she lets Azaylia go, Taikrin also rises to follow a half a pace behind. "You're the one to make a healthy Weyr great. It ain't no small thing to be loved. People don't love me, but I can do the stuff that needs doing to make it healthy. So can Brieli. But she can't ever make the Weyr love her, not like they love you. She can only do the stuff that needs doing, until it's done. So you can take over." She's very carefully and very deliberately not mentioning H'kon. "It ain't weakness. It just... is." To Hraedhyth, Szadath is glad enough to redirect all of his attention to the egg, even as he unabashedly basks in her approval. « It is very bright. » He exams it from all sides, cautious all the same for another sudden change. « This one will pick a male mate, I think. » Why does he know? How? « It will be strong. All of our hatchlings will be strong. » Even if his rider says he's fine, Azaylia's aiming to brave the sand's heat in order to see for herself. "I don't want to take over." A note of disgust. No, nothing so harsh, she's merely exasperated. "I- thank you, Taikrin. For saying these things." Though they're not true. "I know you're just trying to help. But I already said it's fine. I don't know what else you want me to say." She sounds exhausted, having to turn her head in order to be heard over her shoulder. Once she reaches the sands, she hangs near the edge to watch the three dragons with a look of concern. Drums thump with pride, and yes, approval for her brown mate. « They will find Theirs and it will be good. » Excitement breaks through her rhythmic thoughts to roll with anticipation. « They are easier to protect, now. » What with being encased in hard shells and not off in the snow or trying to fly. Let's hope she's not so overprotective when they're actually dragons. (Hraedhyth to Szadath) "I don't--" Despite her apparent success, the way Taikrin is running a hand through her shorn hair is a typical gesture of frustration for the brownrider. "I really do want you to be okay. You're important to me, and I want to make sure you know that. Yeah?" Szadath, meanwhile, has recovered from his shock. He's nosing at an egg, albeit cautiously, and the color in his eyes his healthier. Warmer. « It will be very good. Once they hatch, we will not need to protect them. » Beat. « As much. They will be able to bite and flame and claw. » Hatchlings can do that right out of the shell, right? Szadath adds an image of claws escaping that so-bright shell, spearing the world's tiniest herdbeast. (Szadath to Hraedhyth) "Get H'kon to agree to be your 'second." Azaylia reminds, words firm but voice weak as she watches Szadath nose at an egg. She's not looking at the brownrider now, "I'm not okay." She admits in a whisper, "Inside, I'm not an okay person. You shouldn't have so much faith in me, Taikrin. It's going to get you hurt." It's honest concern for the brownrider which prompts her to say such things. To Szadath, Hraedhyth enjoys that image, growling out of pleasure for the assured strength and capability of their offspring. Bronze, brown, blue, green. All of them will be important. « And then, » Fire's smoke rises to curl and tickle his own acrid wisps, so much like that mostly forgotten flight, « We will make more. » It's the circle of life. "I'll do my best. I can't make the man do a thing, though, and I know you wouldn't want me to force him." Taikrin shoves her hands in the pockets of her jacket as she stops just to Azaylia's side-- close, but not quite touching. "You're a good person in a hard time. I have faith in you like Hraedhyth has faith in you. Like Szadath has faith in Hraedhyth. I know good when I see it. We'll get through this okay. I promise. You won't hurt me. I'm tough." And gold. Szadath inserts that at the end, because nobody ever tells Szadath he can't do a thing except he has to prove them wrong. « More. » It's an enchantment, a drug, an addiction in this promise that chains him to her more surely than anything else. Bite him, scourge him, roar at him: he will keep coming back for more, for this. It's as necessary to him as breathing. « More, and stronger. And stronger. » (Szadath to Hraedhyth) Only when Taikrin is near does Azaylia turn her head, and only enough to give the older woman a sidelong look, "Don't you hurt him." Perhaps unnecessary, given what the brownrider has just said. "I'm not-- thank you." She doesn't have it in her to argue, to explain to her once-wingmate that she's the worst. "You are tough. The Weyr needs someone strong." Her eyes slide back to the dragons, expression softening as she watches. Hraedhyth is back to nuzzling the brown, pausing only to nip and groom Szadath in an attempt to smooth over her earlier rage. To Szadath, Hraedhyth doesn't argue, which isn't the same as agreeing with the boisterous brown. After making sure his muzzle is clean, she aims her own at a pale egg that blends in well with the sands, « This egg. It has the right color. » She confirms nothing, says nothing, the queen only ever dealing in truths. That doesn't mean she isn't willing to humor Szadath and his illusions of grandeur. "I don't want to hurt him. I want to work with him." Maybe she even believes what she's saying, too. "The Weyr needs someone strong, and it needs someone to take care of it too. Someone to mother it and make sure it's got food and a bed and someone to tuck it in, yeah? That ain't ever been me." It's hard no to watch Szadath submit to Hraedhyth's care-- he genuinely seems to flourish under the attention. He's still looking at the eggs, but every now and then he turns to butt his head, feline-like, against Hraedhyth's chin. "I used to want to hurt everyone, you know, when I was young." Her admission is soft, and she's still not looking at Azaylia. "Younger'n you. 'Cause I reckoned I was owed it, because life hadn't been fair to me. Now, I mostly just want to protect people from ever wanting to feel that way. Does that make sense?" There's no reason for Szadath to doubt Hraedhyth's wisdom in this. « I think so. This one is also large. » Larger than the others, anyways, though Szadath hasn't the faintest idea whose it might be. For all he can recall, these are every one his offspring and Iesaryth is just here for kicks. « And this. » He doesn't quite touch his muzzle to the two indicated, but he's clearly tasting the air above them. (Szadath to Hraedhyth) The sound of frustration that leaves Azaylia, subtle as it is, while she watches her lifemate. Jealousy? "I didn't know that." Some of the tension leaves her frame, eyes sliding from the sands over to Taikrin. "I can't... I get sick. Hurting people it's..." There's a quick shake of her head, forcing herself to forget for now. For the brownrider's words, "It makes sense. It does." She reaches over to find Taikrin's hand, her own sweaty palm giving it a squeeze. To Szadath, Hraedhyth's contralto is husky with amusement, « It is. » Larger. The queen has settled as much as she allows during her constant vigilence, her head lifted high as his goes low. « You have Hunted strong humans? » Searched. Only the best for their nightmarish brood. "It's not for you," Taikrin supplies helpfully. "That's one of the things I like most about you, you know. You don't want to hurt anyone. No-- you want everyone to be happy. It's a precious thing. Ain't many people make it to where you are that are still that way." Her hand is dry and calloused and strong when she squeezes back on Azaylia's, and it's accompanied by a faint, crooked grin for the younger rider. To Hraedhyth, Szadath isn't lying, but his bluff unconcern masks a deeper insecurity. « I have not found any worthy of them, yet. » AKA: Szadath is a terrible search dragon. « I have inspected some that have been brought in. They are worthy. I will have to look further, soon. » It's Taikrin's grin that keeps her gaze, Azaylia slow to pull her hand away, "It is?" Brown pools might get slightly larger, tarnished innocence all too obvious as the goldrider asks, "You don't think it's... it makes me stupid?" She doesn't have it in her to sound hopeful, "Childish?" What does he have to be insecure about? Szadath has no faults, and Hraedhyth will take it upon herself to remind him. « You do important work. » With the wings, guarding the sands. He has no time, see? Her fire licks at him, building on the flawless brown's already sizable ego. « Good. » She trusts his judgement. (Hraedhyth to Szadath) "Of course not. It makes you sweet. And caring. Pure. I ain't lying when I say it'll make you a great Weyrwoman. Like Brekke, maybe, or Moreta." Taikrin must use these lines on all the girls-- she's smooth, so smooth in her delivery. And sincere, too, for all the corniness. She reaches out to rest one of those tough hands against Azaylia's cheek. "Don't you ever change, you hear me? You're just right just like you are." True. So true. The ice of Szadath's mind builds on the flames, frozen tongues of fire burning ever more hot/cold. « We have a new one. » He shares the taste Iyniroth's mind, of one already being slowly entwined into the net he's sought to built around Glacier. « More for the work of guarding the hatchlings. » (Szadath to Hraedhyth) "T-thank you. That's a little, uhm. Much." Smooth or no, Azaylia's own doubt won't allow her to be compared to such legends. Taikrin will be able to feel her cheek press into that toughened palm, expression melting into something even softer. Vulnerable. "I'll..." She can't promise, faltering before her eyes dart back over to the brownrider's face. "I'm glad you think so." To Szadath, Hraedhyth is all too quick to inspect what Szadath brings her of Iyniroth. Another brown? This pleases her. « Of Glacier. This is good. » Her pack within the Pack. « You should test him, sometime. » To challenge their newest member in some way, because she is unable to do so. Should he do so, the brown is expected to give her a play-by-play, of couse. Though Taikrin doesn't push the issue, she clearly disagrees with Azaylia's own assessment of herself. "I do think so. Ain't anybody ever told you about how I'm never wrong?" Her voice is still low, soft, as soft as she's trying to make her touch. "I'll take care of you long as I have to." To Hraedhyth, Szadath agrees, turning the brown over and over in his mind. « We will test him and test him, so that he will find the proper place. So that we may place him. He must be worthy before he may fly as trusted with us. » In this, his ability to measure and test and push, he is confident. So confident. Azaylia's eyes dart to the side, worrying her lower lip as she mulls things over. Her hand is subtly wiped at her hip before it reaches up to take a soft, uncertain hold of Taikrin's wrist. "Do you, uhm. Want to come up to my weyr? For... cake?" Not an empty offer, as there is actually a half-Bonesed cake left on the table. To Szadath, Hraedhyth continues to look over the new brown as Szadath does, giving a low rumble that sounds like she should speak more with the transfer. « Good. » The queen is in agreement with his methods, leaving the rest up to the confident brown. There's a different, more primal growl from within, « I hunger. » "Cake?" Taikrin echoes, her smile growing. Rather than protest the contact, she leans in subtly to Azaylia's grip. "Don't know as how I've ever refused that. Lead on, yeah?" The brownrider won't push, but Taikrin's subtle guidings are often just as effective. To Hraedhyth, Szadath jumps to action, wings half-spread before he's entirely aware of the action. « I go to hunt for you. Tell me what you want, and I will bring it. » He's already drawing back, stalking carefully over the sands to a place where he might be safe taking flight. « I will provide for you! » Cake is Pern's coffee, it would seem. Azaylia gives the brownrider a weak smile, lowering her arm as she turns. She does take the lead, hand sliding from wrist down into Taikrin's hand on the way there. Subtle guiding has mixed results with the goldrider's usual uncertainty, though it's obvious how desperate she is for affection. Despite any inner conflict: Taikrin will be leaving happy. Can he feel the pleasure rolling off her tawny form? Each wave of heat carries with it approval for what a good clutchsire he is and an even better mate. « Herdbeast. A fat one. » The warrior queen is all too willing to take advantage of his eager services, and after she's gorged he will be rewarded with even more praise. Like he needs it. (Hraedhyth to Szadath) |
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