Logs:A Welcomed Visit
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| RL Date: 23 July, 2014 |
| Who: Azaylia, Hattie |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Azaylia has a gift for Hattie (and Elaruth), and the two Weyrwoman get a chance to catch up during Fort's Fashion Festival. |
| Where: Lake Shore, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 2, Month 5, Turn 35 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Aishani/Mentions, Elise/Mentions, Evanthe/Mentions, Hana/Mentions, Lilah/Mentions |
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| Lake Shore, Fort Weyr The lake's shore is a broad crescent of golden-hued sand, stretching from the southwest wall near the feeding grounds and around to the southeast where the sand gives way to soil and leaf detritus from a cluster of hardy mountain trees. Where the lake deepens, clear blue water darkens to murky teal, hiding stony depths. Dragons often sun here and riders use the lake for dragonwashing in the warmer seasons, while all of the Weyr's denizens may enjoy walks and picnics among the large, smooth boulders that interrupt the smooth flow of sand. Many of the Weyr's children also play at skipping stones with the wide variety of rocks available along the water's edge. With tender weyrlings wandering about, Hraedhyth is well practiced in stifling those intense drums of hers. Reaching out to the familiar Fortian Matriarch, « Elaruth. » She continues after her greeting, « We wish to visit. » A request, though gruff, punctuated by the curious curl of dark smoke. (To Elaruth from Hraedhyth) Dark is met by light, and with Elaruth's mental touch comes the chatter of voices, a myriad of footsteps and other sounds akin to a Gather in full swing. When blocked out to focus on Hraedhyth, they twist together into a high-pitched, nagging sound that lingers at the edge of the Fortian queen's presence. « You are welcome, » she assures, though she also shares where best in the bowl it would be to land, if one wishes to avoid squashing people. (To Hraedhyth from Elaruth) The 'Reachian queen is curious about the noise that pollutes Elaruth's otherwise tranquil mindspace. « We come. » It is several minutes before Hraedhyth appears in Fort's skies, her roar of greeting likely startling several people below. Her mental greeting stretches out to each gold, starting with the Senior, before she lands where suggested. Azaylia stays mounted for a moment, able to see over the busy bowl from such a height. Expression startled, she sets to dismounting carefully, careful of the package tucked under one arm. Elaruth's chosen spot to perch is one of her usual ones, her pale form visible atop the wall of the bowl, next to the break that permits water from the lake to feed through and become the waterfall. Silently, she extends an invitation for Hraedhyth to join her if she wishes, a sense of the roar of the waterfall and the edge of the other noise that it successfully dims. Her rider is not in amongst all that activity, but skirting it, making her way along the shore of the lake, where some have retreated to inspect their recent purchases more thoroughly, though Hattie's stride becomes more purposeful once she spots the 'Reachian Senior queen and begins to head in her direction. Hraedhyth peers at the people skittering about, pale head swinging this way and that with oversized jaws parted. It's exciting. She'll eventually accept the invitation, dark wings flapping to bring her up next to Elaruth. There's care in the warrior queen's offered affection, close but not too invasive. Azaylia is somewhat lost as she tries to navigate the edges of the crowd. From on high Hraedhyth is able to offer some help, and the 'Reachian Weyrwoman heads in Hattie's direction. With an embarrassed smile, "I wasn't expecting this!" "The traffic tends to fluctuate," Hattie ruefully admits, angling a wry glance towards the main floor space of the bowl, which is presently occupied either by people or various tents and stalls. "Last I heard, there was something about some of the more prominent Weavers visiting today with goods to sell, so I imagine that a lot of this is fuss over some nicely cut and tailored cloth." But doesn't that sum up the whole thing, really? "Congratulations on the hatching," she goes on, her smile shading more genuine for that. "I'm sure you must be pleased with the new lot?" Azaylia is not done staring, looking around with startled brown eyes. "I'm terrible about shopping for clothes..." So it's hard to believe that others are so good at it. So invested. Thankfully she's wearing one of her nicer dresses, although it certainly isn't the height of this season's style. The congratulations has Azaylia beaming, "Thank you. I am. We are." Which reminds her of the package beneath her arm, offering the thickly padded thing to the Weyrwoman. "They're all good and strong. Even-- especially, one brown in particular. He was hatched with... complications." She's delicate with his description, otherwise unworried about the hatchling in particular. "I suppose if they have the marks for it and enjoy it..." Hattie gives a little shrug, it plain enough from her expression that she doesn't entirely understand shopping for sport. "Though some of 'this season's' colours don't seem to be so bad." She reaches carefully to accept the offered package, a question in the quirk of a brow, her murmured thanks holding an edge of surprise. "If this brown is as strong as his dam, I'm sure he'll overcome any complications and keep up with his siblings with no trouble at all." With that, she gives a long look towards the southern end of the bowl and towards their queens, then dips her focus back to the parcel. "I'm sorry that I couldn't visit. You'd think there'd be less to do with less of everything, but it's exactly the opposite." There's a shrug for the hobby of others, though it isn't like Azaylia to judge. She just doesn't understand. As for the package, "I, ah... I heard that Elaruth likes pretty things? To keep?" Hattie's reassurance startles the younger goldrider, smile suddenly bright in the next moment, "Thank you. I... he'll be fine. Yes." Confident. With a step closer, "Oh no. I completely understand. Thank you for the wine, though. And the tea." The paper parcel contains a thick cloth, meant to protect the real gift during travel. Under it all rests a fist-sized glass ball, iridescent when in direct light. Within the ornament is sand, pieces of colored shell giving away the origin of those bright grains. "If she doesn't like it, the bottom should be flat enough to put on a mantle?" "She has a tree with ornaments hanging from it," Hattie confirms, smile lurking at one corner of her mouth. "We lost one of them during a flight, once. She was rather upset." All this, as she carefully works her way through paper and cloth to reveal glass, which soon has her staring, eyes round in coincidental mirror of the sphere that she discovers. She continues to be mindful of the ornament, and keeps cloth and palm beneath it as she lifts it a little more towards the sunlight, breath held in silent awe. "It's beautiful," the Weyrwoman murmurs, when she remembers to breathe again. "She'll love it." Though, given how Elaruth's focus swings in the direction of the goldriders, the little queen may have already stolen a peek. "Thank you, Azaylia." And, still careful with the ornament, sure to keep it balanced safely, Hattie moves to fold an arm around her, cradling glass with her free arm. "Oh! I thought they might all just be around her wallow." Not unlike Hraedhyth's collection of bones. "A tree sounds much nicer." And safer for the bauble within Hattie's hands. "You're welcome. I... had the idea when Hraedhyth's first clutch hatched. It's nice, to have reminders." She leans into the embrace with a soft laugh, hooking her arm around Hattie in a gentle-for-her squeeze. She eases back with a small smile, "And you? How have you been with..." A glance to the fashion tents, and the Weyr surrounding them. "...everything?" Hattie spends a few moments gently wrapping the ornament back up in its layers of cloth and paper, then keeps the parcel hugged lightly to her chest. "Of reminders... I sent," not gave, "Lilah a gift for her turnday, to keep track of Eliyaveith's clutches, but... now I suppose it'll look like a kick in the teeth," she sighs. "Between her and Elise and," she gestures to those tents and the hustle and bustle in the bowl, "the gossip, the Weavers themselves really have been the least of it." She tries out a ghost of a smile, more for the sake of appearances for anything else. "And it's my eldest boy's turnday tomorrow, then he's off to the Starsmiths. One less underfoot." "Lilah can't think that you'd be 'rubbing it in'? If there are... issues. With Eliyaveith." Azaylia's drawl is a cautious one, paired with a glance to the sky and a displeased purse of her lips. "I'm sorry neither seem ready to be juniors. I was surprised." With a soft nod, "I don't question your judgement, of course. Elise told me about her... mistake." There's a sympathetic sigh from the 'Reachian rider, still close to Hattie as she offers a warm smile, "Congratulations. I should have brought him a gift, too." With the genuine curiosity of the inexperienced, "Is it hard? Or exciting?" "I don't know, though I fully believe that she'd expect me capable of it. At the time, I was anticipating a clutch, but... it's looking less and less likely." Hattie wrinkles her nose and gives an uneasy flex of her shoulders that could be an awkward shrug. "If I give Elise her knot now, I condone her behaviour in the eyes of the Hold. And Lilah..." She shakes her head and glances down at her feet. "Well. For a start, I need to try and understand what's happened with Eliyaveith." When she looks up again, she hesitates before she speaks, yet after a moment's contemplation, she carries on anyway. "...Have you ever felt that you could make Hraedhyth rise? More than one person has asked me if I could send Elaruth up whenever I chose." As for her son, her smile does seem to be an easy one when she says, "I appreciate the thought. I expect his siblings are going to bury him under all manner of gifts that they 'think' he'll need in their absence. It's... odd. I don't see him as a grown-up yet. Maybe he'll always be a child, to me." For the young goldrider she's familiar with, "I'm sure Elise understands. The Weyr comes first." Which means the Holds have to be kept happy, a fact that has Azaylia sounding quietly resigned. As for Hattie's question, "I wouldn't know. It... I never thought about trying. I enjoy Hraedhyth's flights, but it's something that just... happens." There's hesitation on her part, now, hands coming together to squeeze and twist. Finally, "It might be possible. It sounds dangerous, if the dragon isn't ready. But then, if it can be faked..." As soon as the words leave her lips, Azaylia is shooting Hattie an apologetic glance, "Not that I'm saying-- it's just all very strange. I'm sorry." There's a soft sigh for the easier subject, "Maybe. I've heard mothers feel that way." Her smile gains strength, "If he's anything like you, he'll be fine. More than fine." "She does understand. I think that makes it that bit worse." Murmured, more than anything, around a small, sad smile. For Azaylia's apology, Hattie has a shake of her head and a guilty look that eases to something less so, appreciative even, as if hearing another Weyrwoman speak those words validates any of her thoughts that lean towards that possibility. "...I don't think a weyrling gold can be ready," she quietly admits. "I've tried to stop Elaruth, in the past, but that's been completely futile. I'm fond of Eliyaveith, and I don't-- Shards, I don't know what to think. I even care for Lilah - even though I think her believing that is as impossible as me stopping Elaruth - and whether she did or didn't... do anything, the result seems to be the same, now." She has a self-deprecating smirk for the matter of her boy. "If he's anything like me, he'll be arguing with his instructors," she says wryly. Azaylia nods in agreement, likely having come to the same sad conclusion in regard to Elise. "I try not to listen to gossip, but... It just doesn't make sense." Though quiet, there's some heat behind her words, "We can only hope that Eliyaveith is no worse for it." The foreign goldrider is startled, straightening up as she looks to Hattie, "If Lilah believes that, then she doesn't know you. You've always been kind to me, from the start. And I never had a proper Senior. She's lucky." More of that softly spoken heat, furrowed brows smoothing afterward. She moves to rest a hand on Hattie's arm, "He probably will. But there's strength in that." She's never been that brave. "And maybe he'll learn why that's not always a good idea." A soft smile. "Maybe there'll be one egg, or two, though having to watch over one and have people watch you watch that one... I think I'd prefer /none/, in a way." As a means of bypassing the watching altogether. Hattie's smirk turns a little lopsided as she says, "Lilah will always believe what she wishes to; I've come to realise that." Then: "It will help her, one day. But if she doesn't learn to listen, then no-one is going to get as far as listening to her in return." That smirk loses its sharp edges and becomes something softer as she covers Azaylia's hand with one of her own and tells her, "You're the proper Senior now." But she can't help but to tease, "And, one day, all of this ridiculousness will be yours. Hope that Hraedhyth or Iesaryth's gold daughters choose older girls; I don't think I could have coped with younger ones." There's a sympathetic wince for Eliyaveith, the image painted by Hattie far from pleasant. "I think I'd also prefer none. Not that Hraedhyth would mind only one, if it were her. But..." Other dragons are far more sensitive. Azaylia's complexion doesn't allow for much of a flush, but she's made bashful by Hattie's words. "Thank you. I know. Its gotten easier, but." Always a 'but'. She lets this one fall away at the Fortian Weyrwoman's tease, "I don't know whether I'm scared or excited at the thought. You can expect me to hide away at Fort, if there is some thirteen turn old brat waiting for her junior knot back home." She gives a soft laugh, "I know you must be tired of all of this," a glance to the tents, "But would you mind if we walked and talked? There might be something nice for my assistant. She likes clothing." Hattie laughs, the sound more of a chuckle than anything. "Hopefully, we'll have the Fountain open by then and we can hide at the back of the bar and drown our sorrows over what the world is coming to. Thirteen. Faranth." The mere thought is enough to make her shudder. It only takes the suggestion of moving towards the stalls and tents and all sorts for her to begin to slowly head in that direction, ornament cradled in the crook of her right arm. "Of course," she agrees. "Though I'm going to have to make you a bet now. You won't get from one end of the bowl to the other without being given at least three things for free, getting a promise of a commission, asked to model something and... I'm going to hazard jewellery being involved somewhen." Crafters and traders are relentless creatures, after all. Surely there won't be that much hassle, but, given the volume of sellers, there's a chance of at least some of that coming true. Azaylia gives a playfully pained look, "I can't believe I said it, either." Thirteen. As the two begin to drift toward the tents, the younger Weyrwoman takes Hattie's bet at face value. It prompts a soft laugh, "I'm sure if that happens, it'll please a few people back home who want to burn my wardrobe." She slips an arm through Hattie's, the one that isn't cradling her gift. "What will we bet? I could get you a nice bottle of spirits?" From the sound of it, Azaylia has already conceded, familiar with the tenacity of crafters and traders. Time has been made for this visit, for it's a long one before the 'Reachian pair return home-- likely burdened with new clothing and jewelry, just as Hattie predicted. |
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