Logs:Impudent Guessing Games
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| RL Date: 25 February, 2016 |
| Who: A'sran, Dahlia |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Clutchparents make guesses about the hatching to come and discuss, briefly, deeper things. |
| Where: Hatching Sands, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 12, Month 2, Turn 40 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Mirinda/Mentions |
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| It's been a good day on the sands. It seems Dahlia has freed up her time to be present for egg touchings for different groups of candidates. There are enough, if only just, to expect a smooth hatching. Still, Dahlia has a little fold of worry between her brows as she herds the last handful off the sands. Known to some few, like A'sran, the goldrider's been doing smaller groups so she might have a chance to speak with more of them herself since playing the role of clutchmother since Taeliyth's attempt at it is a little lacking and her regular duties have left her will less time to get to know them than she might have liked. Taeliyth is supremely unconcerned, lounging on the sands, only radiating a little discontent that Dahlia requires her to be present for these affairs. Her rider lingers near the entrance to the sands, waiting for the next to arrive. And they come, neatly lined up in a single column of chattering adolescents, being led by a cheery, red-blonde bronzerider that's all too familiar. Hands in his pockets, blue eyes alight with their usual mischief, A'sran delivers the next group to Dahlia with a smile. "Darling," he says, low, when he's gotten close enough to the brunette. "I thought you must be getting bored and we cannot have that. Room for a second while they mishandle the eggs and make bad predictions about what the future holds inside?" "A'sran," has all the warmth of his 'darling' in the sound of his name. "Boredom sounds like a terrible fate, but I promise I'm not." Dahlia quirks a smile at the bronzerider, bright and pleased to see him. "I suppose the responsible thing would be for you to stay while this bunch is at it to prove to you that I'm diverted sufficiently." The goldrider suggests it with exaggerated seriousness, moving to wrap her arm around his that they may stroll together instead of her strolling to speak with the candidates. "Which bad prediction would you like to make first?" She gives him the full range of choices to work with, her free hand gesturing to the eggs at large. The words and arm-linking gesture only widen his smile. "I would hesitate to say that every gold-looking egg contains one. We do not need that kind of bad luck," A'sran quips, leading her towards the edges of the sand where all the eggs sprawl. "Kilian.. is that his name? I believe he was a tanner apprentice." His eyes flick towards the group of candidates who are currently fondling the eggs. "A blue." Dahlia's dismay at the idea isn't wholly feigned at the idea of a gold in every gold-looking egg. "To tell the truth, I'd be happier without a gold, despite how lovely this showing has been and with as much as I have to do. It feels like Mirinda and I are just finding balance, and even if any gold that would shell from these would have a turn of training before she'd officially join us, it would... I just want more time." She shakes her head a little, "So let's not guess about those." But, "Kilayn, I think?" only she's not wholly certain either, even when she considers him. "I can see blue. I think that one," her finger indicates the Fuzzy Wuzzy Egg, "is going to be a giant bronze. And that one," the Tee-Tee Egg. "Both with rough and growly temperaments, of course." "Fort has plenty of building that it needs to do in light of recent events. I, too, would see you all given more time. To find balance and other things, before we add another gold to our team of leaders. It will be a welcome change when the times does come," A'sran notes, in his soft tones and with a little bit of thoughtfulness touching his normally playful words. "Kilayn," he repeats, and then shakes his head, "a blue. Those? A bronze in the second one, a brown in the first. That one," the Fuzzy Wuzzy, "gives me nightmares." He moves along, pointing out other eggs and what he thinks they hold within, and other comments about the candidates as they continue egg-touching. "Are you happy?" he asks, finally, looking down at Dahlia. Dahlia's lips curl into an appreciative smile, "You always know just what to say," she compliments before looking to the candidate and then the eggs again. "That one, truly? What do you dream about? Ferocious snuggling monsters?" It does seem the sort to birth such a thing. She doesn't press the point though, happy to nod along, and even laugh to his predictions, making some in exchange for those he offers. When he looks down at her, she lifts her face to meet his gaze. That question isn't taken lightly. It's a few moments of contemplation before she tells him, "Happier. I think I've managed to find more happiness each day than I did the one before. It's easier to smile and laugh now. I'm hopeful, for the future. That's a change, a big and important one." She squeezes his arm a little, "Thank you, A'sran. For everything you've done for me, through all this. I do appreciate you." She does seem to mean that earnestly. "Terribly ferocious." Such a frivolous conversation -- of eggs and candidates -- riding right along into a much more serious talk, catches A'sran's expression somewhere between amusement and a pensive mien. "You deserve to be happy. It is a real shame everything happened right after you arrived. We were not half as exciting before," is a bit dry, but then his mouth breaks into a smile. "You do not need to thank me." "I will thank you anyway. I think you have met me a time or two?" Dahlia inquires with humor, as if to say that such behavior should now be easily expected of her. "I promise not to do it too gratuitously though. I wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable," except for the little bit of impishness in her look that suggests she might enjoy that very thing, only under good-humored circumstances. "I could do with less of that kind of excitement for a while," she confesses, "but we've managed the winter so far, so that seems to make for a promising future." She looks to the eggs, to the candidates. "There are some I worry about, but I think all in all we're very fortunate, A'sran. I have a good feeling about things." There's that hope in evidence. "I may have met you before. Otherwise, our actions are a bit inappropriate," A'sran says, his smile stretching. He's comfortable to listen and walk, and study the candidates from afar; it must be a nostalgic thing for him to experience, from this close up. "A good feeling about things," he muses aloud. "I like that. I will have to pass it along to Leczuth. Eighteen more dragons for the workforce, but eighteen more mouths to feed. We will be fine," is reassuring, but for him or her is hard to tell. He is staring off towards the eggs, again. "Oh, no, darling. We're dragonriders, after all. Everyone knows that dragonmen are the most wild sort," so having never met, their actions would clearly be perfectly appropriate to their caste. Dahlia's grinning at him though, and even dares press herself up onto her toes to put a fond kiss on his cheek. "We will. I promise we will. We just need them to hatch healthily and all find lifemates," nothing major, just all that. The goldrider squeezes his arm. "We'll have to just wait like they must to see if our guesses pan out." That's easier to address, lightly. With that, it's time for more of inappropriate guessing games, kept low and out of earshot of the egg touchers for whom this all can be no joke. |
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