Logs:Big Brown Little Brown
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 25 April, 2015 |
| Who: H'kon, Arekoth, Keysi, Neianth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: H'kon and Keysi see each other for the first time following the cave-in, though the subject is avoided. |
| Where: HRW: Western Bowl |
| When: Day 18, Month 8, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Beautiful, warm, summer |
  |
| The tiny brown dragon rivaling barely the blues in his weyrling class for size stands a dragonlength away from Keysi, and the pair appear to be at a standoff. They are both rigidly, oddly still. Neianth is paused mid-stalking, and the only thing keeping him from appearing as something besides a nigh-black-tinged statue is the flick of his tail. It would indicate irritation, if his eyes weren't whirling such a quick, excited blue and teal. Keysi's hands are balled into fists, her face giving away nothing else of the likely intense conversation going on between the pair. Neianth is freshly oiled- within minutes it would seem- but his hindquarters and tail are caked in a layer of dirt and sand that seems utterly intentional. There's a silhouette in the sky, circling on broad wings overhead. It had been the whole bowl, before. Now, those circles have become smaller, and the silhouette, larger, as the dragon making it descends. The turning of his head can be seen, eyes tracking, now, as he circles; tracking the standoff, and more importantly, that little bitty brown. Watching. Arekoth's interest, his curiosity, might be felt by a mental presence, but he doesn't interrupt. Not yet. « Balance. Speed. » The young brown's presence drifts openly, quieter at a distance like the ripples far from the inciting drip into the immense pool of his mind. « Try harder. Work harder. How long do you wish to spend oiling me? » Neianth chuffs openly, as he breaks his immobile stance to drop straight down into the dirt and roll. His freshly oiled wings to his head and down every leg. Coated, caked with dirt-turned-mud. Keysi lunges after Neianth who is just far enough away to evade her grab. He mantles his wings, victorious. "We have too much to do today for this, Nei.." The once-healer trails off, but turns her storm-grey gaze away to track the shadow. Dragonets may be distracting, but she doesn't miss that. Hand shades her eyes as she looks to the sky to try to identify the one descending towards them. The dragon casting the shadow drifts lower. He has to flap now, has to work harder to maintain his altitude. But he still doesn't loud. « Dirt, » Arekoth adds to the little dragon's list, now he's closer. « Mud. » His voice comes amused, rolling out heartily. And then, he spares a circle to consider the little dragon's rider. Familiar. The dragonet's wings raise a little higher as an unfamiliar mind becomes clearer from the just present-conciousness it once had-been. Something he could not focus on if Neianth wanted to be successful in his 'lesson.' Until now. « Consequence. » Comes the mental touch agitating the still waters of a pool's reflection. The whirling faceted eyes have slowed, turning away from His to focus on the brown above. There's the added images to suggest that this is perhaps the third repetition of this 'consequence' of whatever 'game' he's playing, as if he's proud of this. « Of dirt and water? » Arekoth dips lower still, nearly buzzing the weyrling pair now. The amusement has turned into a laugh in his voice, his attentions turning back to the little brown. Because H'kon is on his way from the caverns, at a time he hadn't planned on, by the fact that he's still chewing as he comes, and a rather large mouthful at that, something finished hurriedly. There's an obvious pause as the young, intense mind considers the notably logical statement, « Of unsuccessful training, of course. » Neianth returns, tilting his head nigh-bird-like as the large brown flies so low. The few meters between the two is closed as they move in even but deliberate unison to stand nearer each other. A lighter-tipped dirt-covered tail curling possessively about the legs of the girl. « One must have a goal to work for. Encourages working harder. » Keysi isn't aware of H'kon for maybe too long for one usually so well on-guard. But when she does, it's with something akin to a double take, the second glance with that inkling of acknowledging familiarity. "H'kon." Is called, loud enough but not loudly, as both a question of confirmation- she hasn't seen him clean since before 'it' happened- and a greeting. When the two are corralled so nicely together, Arekoth drops the remaining distance, backwinging to land neatly, talons finding firm footing on the floor of the bowl. He settles and re-settles his wings, until satisfied with them, and turns that fierce face to the little brown. « Consequences, » repeats the older brown. Tilting his head a bit, birdlike, raptorlike, « and goals. » He stares hard at that little brown. « And the mud? » H'kon raises his stubbled chin in answer to the former healer, though his steps remain carefully metred as he closes the distance between them. Only once he's alongside his dragon, once he's near, does he answer, "Keysi." « Mud. That is consequence. Her consequence. » Neianth reaffirms, his mind a vast, weighty feeling not unlike the expanse of immense, reaching mountains. The tiny brown is a bold one, his naturally predatory stances shifting into that feline-like crouch as he leaves Keysi's legs to investigate Arekoth with little restraint. His mantling has yet to cease, though now his intention is to make him bigger. As big as Arekoth. Bigger, even. That will show him. Keysi is peripherally aware of Nei's actions visually, but has mostly turned to study the older approaching brownrider. There's a loss of what to say, except perhaps the obvious, "...How have you been?" Arekoth mantles his wings in turn; mantles, and also lifts himself higher, as his legs will allow, when the little brown approaches. It's not about looking bigger, necessarily, so much as it is about giving the little brown freedom to roam, freedom to inspect. And the shelter of an older dragon's wings. An older dragon, who does not take junior predators all that seriously, by the amusement that's given the faintest glow of yellow in Arekoth's mind. "Well enough," H'kon answers, much the same as he'd answered questions of how he was back when their quarters were decidedly closer. A beat. "And you? Both. We watched you impress." Neianth's hissing could hardly be considered a serious thing, given his size and the fact he seems keenly aware of the allowed freedom. And likes it. The warm mist that rises between sky-touching mountains settles amongst them. A serene, soul-warming mist that elicits knowledge of his contentedness in this. The dragonet weaves through and around Arekoth's legs in his stalking manner, peering up at him on occasion with intermittent rumbling. "A lot has happened." While no less hard to read, perhaps there is some ease there given his similar reply. Keysi folds her arms, her fingers scratching at her forearm while talking. Itchy. Dry. So itchy. The mud drying on dragonet hide. "I should have waved." Sarcastic, really, and of course dryly so. "He's Neianth. I guess we were a bit distracted." There's faint amusement to her level tone. "Neianth," repeats H'kon, looking over to the little dragon zigzagging through his lifemate's legs. Arekoth has tilted his head down, way down, and craned his neck, as if it would let him see the goings-on beneath him. His wings have spread a bit more, for balance. "A dragon of consequence," comes a bit dryly, with a quirk at the corner of his mouth that could be like a smile. "And a good colour." The nod there might be something like approval, as H'kon crosses his arms over his chest. "Something like that." Keysi's even voice betrays a hint of fondness. "One who knows we can always be better than we are." A clicking sound shows agreement to that statement. The dragonet emitting the sound stops as he comes up between Arekoth's front paws to stare up at the older brown's sharp face, curiousity being all that ripples from him. "A good colour." She repeats, and that gets a turn of the edges of her lips which dissolves as quickly as it tries to appear. "I would think so." She lets the scratching hand go to make a short, light motion towards his dragon. "If he's any indication." A compliment, meant to get a rise out of Neianth.. which it does. The girl just barely flinches, pulling her hand back to hold her shoulder as if something hit her there. "Was he a challenge when he was young?" "Oh," says H'kon, and for a moment, his tones more resemble the playful cadence of his dragon, "he's a challenge now." The wingsecond turns just a bit, to watch the browns' mutual inspection. Arekoth's face surely appears upside-down to Neianth in this instant. And then his head turns, one way, first, and then the other. "My weyrlingmasters," and there's something in H'kon's voice to suggest how practiced these words have become, over his nearly eighteen turns with his dragon, "said that if Arekoth had not paired with me, he'd surely have died. By some folly of his own, they meant. His front leg," and one arm extends to gesture to the twisted appendage, "is for a lack of control on my part when he was much too small for what he was attempting." Let that influx of words be marked as the rarity it so often is. Neianth mirrors Arekoth's head tilting, his dark-hewn wingtips lowering until they nearly lay upon the ground. Only once he's immitated the older brown enough to amuse himself does he raise a nigh-blackened paw with brightly contrasting talons as if to swipe the giant beak-like muzzle before him. But he never finishes that thought, choosing instead to roll over onto his back to make Arekoth's head 'right side up.' There's a lightness just barely notable upon Keysi that could suggest she'd say something in humor in response to the wingsecond, but at his indication of the older brown's leg, she becomes level once more, "May I ask.. what happened? I struggle with him. He wants us to be the best so quickly. I'm concerned he will hurt himself." "He wanted to fly," H'kon says, easily. "He was certain he had the strength for it. That part," and the rider tilts his head from side to side, allowing, "was not untrue. Landing," as Arekoth snaps his beaked muzzle at those little talons, and, once Neianth has flipped over, extends his wings to their full span, "requires more strength." The wingsecond tightens up his arms across his chest, but lets his shoulders relax. "It can be easy, to be caught up in their enthusiasm. Consciously or not." Neianth pulls his paws in tight to his equally charcoal-dusted chest. He shows his teeth in reflection to the nip, but there's a chuffing laughter emitted behind those tiny jaws. "You could call no one to help him land? Or he thought he could?" H'kon's words have obviously struck something and the neutral girl seems to be uneasy as her weight shifts her from her grounded position. "I don't know what I'm going to do." The weyrling admits, lower in volume. "It feels impossible to ignore his persuasion at times, his insistence." That intensity. "But I..." She pauses, dropping her intense gaze from H'kon for a moment, "I can't imagine that happening." And yet it feels like a very real possibility, having happened to Arekoth. "It happened more quickly than that," H'kon starts, though there's a pause there, and some due consideration. "And we'd already had our share of attentions from the weyrlingmasters for our troubles." It's not discomfort, so much as a deep, retrospective disapproval. His arms come down again, this time that he can massage idly at his own left wrist. As he plays, Arekoth's amusement coalesces into a more prominent display of those auroral glows, brighter, a distinctive ribbon now, in the chill night sky. "It can be difficult, not to become overwhelmed. Frustrated. Or carried along... but there's an importance to keeping your head." The growing concern, while the great majority well-hidden, is not hidden from the girl's young brown. Neianth's play is disturbed, the color of concern trickling in at the edges of what were deeply blue-teal facets. He rolls back onto his feet and- if Arekoth allows- climbs his front paws onto the older dragon's front paw to peer over it at His. Keysi listens with growing uneasiness, mostly noticable by Neianth becoming unsettled and her own avoidance of eye contact. "Your troubles?" She clarifies, but at the same time doesn't press, continuing on fluidly if he chooses to ignore the question, "I don't want him hurt, but I don't even know how to know when he can't do something. I've never done this before." Is she getting defensive? It seems so, considering the obvious answer to that question, and with something simmering beneath her facade of level-headedness. "The dragonhealers couldn't do anything?" Arekoth is fine with this. In fact, there's even a comforting croon offered to that little brown. « It's not so bad as he makes it sound, » the older dragon chuffs. H'kon's brow, meanwhile, creases a bit when he picks up those changes, in the girl, in her dragon (via his own). "Arekoth and I were quite different. And young men can be headstrong." Even, it would seem, young H'kons, though of course the wingsecond goes no more specific than this. "His was a problem of the soft tissues, not bones." Those green eyes consider his own lifemate for a moment, before he turns back to the weyrling rider. "The weyrlingmasters are far better at judging a dragon's readiness. Their rules are the best to follow." « We will be the best. » Confidence from his is natural, but added extra to the presence of his words a beat late, like a faltering. He climbs to sit back on his haunches on the back of Arekoth's paw. For a youngster, he seems already careful of talon placement. Or, at least, he tries. Intent, intense, focused on Keysi with a locked stare. His tail twitches. « We can do anything. They are too slow. » Neianth interprets for himself, and shares with the elder brown. The cause of her concern is obvious. Keysi's eyes stray to Neianth, though she takes a breath and finally is able to look at H'kon. "When they first told us about separation, I- we- didn't like it. But perhaps we just didn't understand it that way." That concept, of separation, brings a twist of a smile to H'kon's face. It doesn't look to fit entirely well, and yet the lines it marks have deepened with age and familiarity. "I had, for some time, thought myself quite separate from him. From the start. Headstrong," is reminded, and he looks back to where that little brown sits. « All of them? » Arekoth wonders, ever-not-helpful, ever-humouring, as he slowly eases onto his haunches, careful not to disrupt that little brown. Those wings mantle once more, cloaking them both. Neianth flares black-touched wings to steady himself as Arekoth shifts to his haunches, though seems fixated on remaining balanced there. And staring intensely at his rider. « All of them. » He confirms, with a vehemence flushed with the immobility of mountains. « So many rules. » A his follows as his impatience flares, « Rules that keep us slow. » Noted, of course, without much logical back up. "I've thought of us as too much the same. Perhaps that's the problem." Neianth hisses at that, and although not wanting to give up his perch, he stands as if about to. The mirroring of each other's irritation is fairly evident. "I should try to get him washed." There's a crease in her brow as she's trying to temper the impatience following, drowning, from the little dragonet. H'kon's nod, H'kon's soft, "Hm," should speak, to anyone who truly knows him, of an actual interest in Keysi's representation of her and Neianth's bond. He leaves it at that, gives himself time to consider this. « Weyrs have lots of rules, » Arekoth agrees, almost sympathetic in town, and yet... « The trick is knowing the ones that are important. » It's the voice of the wingsecond's dragon, there. H'kon turns his attention to the dirty-dusty back of that little brown. "Luck, with that," is almost good-natured. "See which consequences fall to whom." He and Arekoth will wait, of course for them to go. Though it can't be promised that Arekoth won't give little Neianth a bit of a boost, when it comes time to jump off his foot. The young dragon obviously has little regard for the more common desire for preening of dragons. And when His attempts to refocus their negative energy towards the task at hand, Neianth shows his teeth, his tail switching back and forth once, twice. Agreement flows back at Arekoth's words, and the aggravation eases just a little at the advice he'd not yet considered. Little sneer on little head is lost as he turns up a whirling eye at the sharp-angled features of the older brown, « Some are better than others? » "Neianth." The word is sharp, only a beat after he turned his attention away from her. He's avoiding. There are better things to do than get bathed again. "Thank you, H'kon." She manages in earnest, though it seems she's gotten control of that flare of multi-sided irritation. "It helped." And it did, since there is an ease on both their sides. Neianth is slow to give up his position, but eventually something convinces him the time has come. "I hope to speak with you soon." And, as if echoing his rider, Neianth projects those warm mists to cover and encompass Arekoth wholly in appreciation before receding. |
Comments
Alida (05:16, 27 April 2015 (EDT)) said...
H'kon is the bedrock of this Weyr, I think. ^^
Leave A Comment