Logs:Late Night Snack
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| RL Date: 3 January, 2014 |
| Who: Knioth, Teisyth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: The knight-in-training asks the peasant to join him for a late night snack. But it's really more about the talking. |
| Where: Feeding Grounds, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 15, Month 9, Turn 33 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: The sky is clear today. The air remains cool and damp, but the weather is overall pleasant today. |
| Mentions: A'rist/Mentions, Aseana/Mentions, Dilan/Mentions, Gaelan/Mentions, Laghnei/Mentions, Leara/Mentions, Raleri/Mentions |
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| Feeding Grounds, High Reaches Weyr Wedged between the lake and the rest of the vast bowl are the dusty feeding grounds. Here, the well-trampled ground is contained by a sturdy wooden fence, cutting right through one end of the lake to section it off into a muddy watering hole for the animals. Several gates allow people in and out, while at the back, large overhangs of rock provide the herd -- a mixed bag of herdbeasts, wing-clipped wherries, and fat porcines -- shelter from storms or the hot sun. What grass survives is usually bloodstained, but feeding troughs are stationed around the edges of the pen. The sky is clear today. The air remains cool and damp, but the weather is overall pleasant today. Slow and distant the rhythmic sound of hooves against the soil drifts through the air. « Might thee come down little sister? I would speak with thee if thou hast a moment. » The scent of blood and battle, and dark shapes moving under the light of the stars before moonlit wings. An invitation to a late night snack. (To Teisyth from Knioth) « Blood! » Teisyth observes the scent cheerily. Maybe she's been spending too much time with a certain bronze clutchmate. The sensation of air on wings is soon felt and her dark boxy shape is drawing nearer and nearer to the feeding grounds from some ledge (not hers) until she flexes her wings to take her into a glide low over the pens, surveying the flavors she might partake in. (To Knioth from Teisyth) Certainly that isn't a mental cringe at the word. No it must be imagined. The mental hoof beats dissolve, into real ones, as the blue selects his kill, landing neatly upon the buck and tearing into the soft flesh of the throat. « You have an interesting choice in company. » The words aren't judgmental in tone but it could be implied that the blue has no fondness for certain bronze clutch mates. (To Teisyth from Knioth) « Do I? » It's not just Lythronath, of course. Teisyth, for all her non-green-like qualities is a social butterfly. An ugly butterfly. But a butterfly! « I like most dragons 'bout the same, which is usually a lot. » So she hasn't noticed if some of them (most of them) are strange in their own ways. There are a very few that Teisyth avoids for one reason or another, but those reasons would be hard to pin down without asking her, and then there's the memory thing. The bit about not remembering more than a few days of happenings without substantial help from her lifemate (and even then...). (To Knioth from Teisyth) Knioth growls deeply as he tears into the buck. « You do, but perhaps it suits you. » Neutral, but mildly curious. « Has yours brought his clutch to the weyr yet? » a question perhaps fished from another mind that was unaware of the conversation. Knioth may have absolutely no interest in rusty butterflies but he could appreciate some of the green's better qualities, even if he was more discriminating in the company he chose. (To Teisyth from Knioth) To Knioth, Teisyth's pounce from the air has her rolling over the herdbeast that is her prey, ending up with the green on her back and the beast held between her talons above her, neck curved around to take the first bite while the beast still wriggles. Apparently the kill quickly and humanely lesson was lost on this green. « No. But soon! Well, maybe soon. Sort of soon? » Time is hard. « Aseana wants G'laer an' me to be the ones to bring 'em. G'laer told her Laghnei an' Cerzoth, » The blue's name is infused with delight; Teisyth's favorite among their riders' siblings' dragons, « could bring 'em sooner, only Aseana's only met her a couple times, and don't trust 'em not to dump the kids between. » Which Teisyth thinks is a ridiculous fear, but there it is. If this information is supposed to be secret or private, the green either doesn't know that, doesn't remember, or doesn't care. With this green, each of the three possibilities are just as likely as the next. A chuffing sound at the green's antics, even Knioth must possess a sense of humor. « Mine - was not mentioned? » Casually phrased, as though to indicate that it didn't matter one way or another, or perhaps that he isn't surprised. Another tearing bite, as the blue is a bit old to be playing with his food. « She likes littles. Do you like them? » (To Teisyth from Knioth) « Nah. You guys can't between yet either. » So why would they be mentioned? Not that going to Crom one has to between, but the answer is there in her mind that G'laer doesn't fancy hours upon hours of flying straight with the twins. Pee breaks and the possibility of motion sickness is just too much to make it in any way appealing. Teisyth has to think about it. « I expect I would. » She doesn't remember if she does, « I'm not sure I've ever met any. » Well, except, « Wait, do the littler ones of their blood count? I like them okay. Even if that one likes to grab my wing... » That part she doesn't really care for, but there's an image of little Raleri pulling on Teisyth's cracked-glass wing, trying to trace the pattern of the cracks. (To Knioth from Teisyth) Shares an image of when he was much smaller, getting hugged around the neck by Dilan, it must also be borrowed from his rider's memory. « They can be fun, I know mine wants to meet them. She's just afraid to ask yours about it I think. » Hours of flying doesn't seem to be something Knioth minds but then he's never experienced projectile vomit either. « They do count. Though I admit I can't keep track of who is who. » (To Teisyth from Knioth) While Teisyth can't seem to recall the specifics and is, at least, smart enough to know not to ask G'laer about them, she does know: « Ghena did make him mighty mad the last time they really talked. » There's regret in her tone, but she can't remember how things went wrong. « I do know » One more thing! « That G'laer's kids are not so much younger than Ghena. He don't do well with them either. » More regret. There's pain there. Not hers. But deep. Buried, something she feels only the ghost of, but knows it's there. (To Knioth from Teisyth) « She's still a hatchling, still learning. She doesn't learn it all at once. » Is all Knioth says of the subject, with the frustrated air of someone struggling very hard to train a puppy, with moderate success. The age similarity is something that Knioth does latch onto though. « Maybe she would have better luck? Or at least make some new friends. » Because she hasn't done a good job so far of making friends, he decides trying the pity angle on the green. « And maybe when she grows, she can help him get along with them too? » You know when she's had a year or two to mature. « Could it hurt? » (To Teisyth from Knioth) « Knioth, » The tone is gently chiding, « You know it ain't up to me. If it were, we'd all be havin' wherry blood sundaes an' doin' four-legged races together, » A colorful doodle of the two of them with half their limbs tied together racing other dragons in similar bondage is offered up, « But it's them that's got to work it out. Didn't he try to explain about them? » She can't remember, but she thinks he did. (To Knioth from Teisyth) Knioth snorts, blood spattering from his snout. « I wasn't suggesting we interfere overtly. » Just you know nudge where nudging is due. « And she ended up hurting badly the last time they talked. I'm saying she may ask, and I know you being the bundle of rustic charm that you are can soften him to the idea - slightly. Enough so that he might listen at least. » And hopefully enough so he didn't have to sit with his rider crying for several hours after. « Or at least suggest when he might be in the best mood. » (To Teisyth from Knioth) By now, Teisyth is covered in blood. Eating your food upside-down will do that. She pauses mid-munch to cast a gaze toward the blue. Her mind is suddenly puzzled, « What makes you think I need ter soften him to the idea? » (To Knioth from Teisyth) Knioth can't roll his eyes at the mess, but honestly, what other dragon in their right mind would eat upside down. It's like attempting to fly backward, it might be possible, but some things are better left undone. He licks his muzzle clean, neatly. « You said yourself she made him very angry. » Knioth suggests mildly. (To Teisyth from Knioth) To Knioth, Teisyth regularly flies backwards with ridiculous dexterity (well, not at first, but she's been practicing now!); it's one of her real talents in life, so the upside-down eating really shouldn't be that surprising. « Yes. » It's true that Ghena did make G'laer very angry. « But why would that mean I'd need ter soften him up to the idea? » It might say something about the way the brains of both green and man work that she's not following Knioth's logic. Although, isn't it promising that she's not? Rumbles a little at that, thoughtfully. « He's not angry anymore? » Curious, or maybe he's not used to people who don't hold grudges quite the way his rider is infamous for. « I see your point I think. » (To Teisyth from Knioth) This, too, seems to confuse Teisyth. The best answer she can come up with as she rolls over and noses across the ground to check to see if she missed any bit of the beast is, « He's not angry now. » Then, « He could become angry again. But I'd 'spect that'd depend on just what Ghena says ter him when they talk. Y'all could come 'round to our weyr if'n you wanted. Sometime. G'laer's got a nifty garden goin' on the ledge. Tho', we're still makin' trips to Crom to get the rest of his stuff. » She likes the flight. She doesn't mind hauling his junk either. There's a sensation that the next trip will be soon. When do they have time off again? Maybe then. (To Knioth from Teisyth) Knioth may be as confused as she, but then his rider is more prone to sulking. « I will try to council her to choose her words wisely, we will come by soon then. » He decides, tail flicking. « Ghena hasn't really done anything with ours yet. » Irritation as he cleans his claws and checks himself for spots of blood or other unseemly bits of gore. (To Teisyth from Knioth) « If'n she wants help, she could prolly ask him. He offered t'help A'rist an' some of the others. The ones that were weaker'n might've needed help. » Teisyth is a little proud of that, and it might easily be guessed that she was a driving force behind these charitable acts. This as she's gobbling up some meat-gobs that escaped her carnage. (To Knioth from Teisyth) The blue rumbles. « She won't I don't think she has any sense or need of making the place hers. » Clearly he does. « Thank you for talking with me sister. » Great wings spread to head back and sleep. (To Teisyth from Knioth) « That there's strange. » Teisyth pronounces, before bugle-honking her farewell and dipping her nose back to the blood-soaked earth. Dirt and blood, what could be better? Maybe she'll take some home with her. Won't G'laer be thrilled. (To Knioth from Teisyth) |
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