Logs:Entitled (To) Opinions
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| RL Date: 19 March, 2015 |
| Who: Alida, Irianke |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Alida and Irianke have a conversation in the galleries. |
| Where: Galleries, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 19, Month 4, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: H'vier/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, Azaylia/Mentions, F'rain/Mentions |
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>---< Hatching Galleries, High Reaches Weyr(#290RJs) >-----------------------<
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.
Commands: +list/eggs For the first time - at least for *this* particular clutch - Alida is found at the railing of the Galleries that overlooks all those precious eggs of Niahvth's...oh, and Reisoth's. The blonde is as silent as death, her expression schooled to blankness even as intense green eyes rove over each orb and ovoid in measuring, perhaps curious fashion. Upon said stone railing sits a large mug of iced tea - a good choice for the current, steamy environment - and from it the bluerider sips on occasion, as well as floating her gaze around now and again to take in her surroundings. Niahvth stirs, her restless slumber coming to an end, it would seem. Shortly thereafter, two things happen: Irianke arrives, a book in her hand and a pair of spectacles pushed up on her head, and a brown dragon drops in with a fresh kill for the clutch mother. The marigold hued dragon waits for the brown to leave before lifting herself, gingerly, off the sands and making her way through her maze of eggs to the slaughtered wherry at the very edge. "Seventeen," notes Irianke to the bluerider as she approaches that seating area. "She's never quite managed that before though this is the first time she's been caught by a bronze." It's quiet enough in this echoing, huge place that regular footfalls are able to be made out. And so, when Niahvth wakens and receives her gratuitous meal, Alida's already looking about for Irianke's arrival upon one regular and one 'overbooted' foot. Being a half-assed 'peg-leg' does make one's steps more noticable. While the grounded queen moves towards her meal, the bluerider shifts green gaze from Junior to those myriad eggs, and then back again, her tea getting sipped while the 'indirect' clutch momma closes the distance enough so that 'lida doesn't have to do more than murmur to be well heard. "Sometimes I wonder if they c'n sense distress in a Weyr...start pootin' out more eggs ta' try an' make up fer things." Like a lack of golds...the largest and mounded-up egg offered a laconic toast of the blonde's mug. "Congrats ta both uv' ya'." Riesoth's left out of the equation. "At Igen," begins Irianke, "Goldriders other than the Weyrwoman are encouraged towards brown dragon winners. Or," the weyrwoman concedes, "Bronze dragons are discouraged from chasing in those flights. It is a good clutch though." The pride in her lifemate is apparent from the intonation she uses and the smile she can't quite mask. "We met once, I believe." A recognition that can't quite place Alida flickers through the brunette's eyes. "I've never been very good at names." "Don't *need* lots uv' golds in an Interval..." Alida murmurs after Irianke's first words, the blonde then lipping a low, thoughtful, "Then again, Igen also 'encourages' only bronzeriders ta be in leadership positions." Her words are about as impartial as her (lack of) expression, though green eyes linger a moment upon the other woman before again moving to the eggs. "Here's ta a healthy bunch..." Sip. Unlike some of the dragons born to various Weyrs, over the last handful of Turns. "What kind'a momma is she? All I got's Hraedhyth to compare to." Anymore. For the weyrwoman's latter words, the bluie grants a wispy little ghost-smirk-smile, her clear green eyes dancing just a hint darkly as she levels them upon her conversational companion again. With lighter, only faintly acerbic humor comes her habitually-rapid alto, "Twice, actually...though I guess formality counts only on the first occasion." Beat. "Alida. In the Snowasis right after ya first arrived." "Not Igen. F'rain. Who is Benden." Irianke makes that distinction clear while maintaining her warmth. "And personally," she takes in a shallow breath and looks elsewhere, to the wall across from where she stands, but not at Alida or her dragon or the eggs on the sands, "I believe it is some sort of power play." "Ah... my mistake..." Alida notes a little too casually, smoothly, those somehow merciless green eyes observing Irianke from some strange viewpoint. "Never was one fer politics, 'r much inter-Weyr fraternization, fer that matter." Or fraternization, period. "Starts ta run t'gether in my head, sometimes." Cue a lifting of her free hand to pantomime an emptily-yapping mouth. Shrug. "Sure it is... but what's 'e hope ta pull off, aside from the obvious?" Consolidating power over all. Sip, smirkie. "What's Niahvth like around 'er eggies? I dun' wanna' accidentally overstep some line one day if it's Ilicaeth 'n me who wind up delivering 'er chow." Like that brown did. "What do you mean, Alida?" Irianke looks at the other woman, her brows furrowing as her expression tells all of how she is trying to decipher what the bluerider says. "What who hopes to pull off?" As for Niahvth, the goldrider looks to the sands, where the gold is plowing through her meal with alacrity, the bones then set into a neat little pile before she returns to her eggs. "She usually gives directions when she requests a meal of the watchrider above. Far edge of the sands, put it down and leave. The sands are sacrosanct. She tolerates no one other than myself, the sire, the sire's rider and Weyrleaders, but not their dragons. Eventually, I'll convince her of the candidates." "Not sure what I mean, anymore..." the bluerider notes with an absent handwave, as if her mind is wandering a little, her gaze filtering back to the gnoshing gold, then those eggs. "People behavin' oddly everywhere, not just Benden. Heard about Astivan, plus there's the all the crazy uv' those renegade Fort riders a few Turns ago." Eyeroll, head-shake. Words of Niahvth's tolerance (or lack of it?) earns the queen a studying look as she arranges those bones neatly, Alida finding herself grinning just a little at the gold's precise devouring of the wherry carcass. Quietly, "*Nothin's* sacrosanct ta humans." A chuckle greets word of the upcoming Candidates, and then, from left field, the bluie murmurs a soft, "Like that guy K'zin Searched." "You are an intriguing," read: baffling, "Person, Ilicaeth's rider." Irianke taps her book to her side, a drum beat with no rhythm to it. "I'm not sure what you mean by nothing being sacrosanct to humans. Do you believe people don't have values or places that mean something to them?" There's a dry expression, a wry little hint of a bow from Alida's waist for Irianke's words of the bluie, the blonde woman rolling her eyes a little then noting aside to the weyrwoman, "When the stakes 'r high enough, nearly all humans'll step outside uv' their personal limits...outside uv' most sane limits." And that's her answer to the goldrider's question, though it's only now that green eyes seek blues, again. "So, on a lark, whadda' ya' think uv' 'Reaches, after yer months here?" Once again, her features are untouched by any kind of leading emotion. "I don't know if I'd agree, responds Irianke, the book thumping subsiding when she catches sight of the eye rolling. Her voice audibly chills a few degrees, and she begins to shift, restless, on her feet. But what she believes is never spoken when Alida continues and there, the goldrider laughs a laugh that is solidly in the neutral camp. Her hand reaches up to bring the spectacles down and with the veneer of a brilliant smile, remarks, "High Reaches is my pleasure and my duty. Have a good evening, dragonrider." The emphasis on the bluerider's rank is subtle but distinct, set apart with its deeper intonation. "I have a soulmate and a book that are calling my name this evening." "Everybody's entitled to their opinion..." Foolish or otherwise. If Alida notices Irianke's chill, she doesn't let on, instead offering a hint of a wicked and wintry little grin to the other woman's laughter. "Hope ya continue ta think it so..." the bluie murmurs perhaps quixotically, the bait of that 'dragonrider' not risen to in any obvious fashion. "By all means..." the bluerider notes with the faintest twist of lips...and then turns her head to once more silently study the Sands, momma, eggs, tune out the world, it seems...and sip from her tea. She doesn't bother watching the goldrider's departure, instead internally calculating various things while sharing some choice thoughts with her lifemate. Irianke says nothing in response, merely moving to the stairs down to where Niahvth is, perching herself on a large paw and curling into that warm, oiled up hide to touch her lifemate and to read: two of her life's pleasures. Is he trying to make up for some of his lifemate's roughness? Igen-hot sands and furnace-like winds swirl Ilicaeth's grit and mica at Niahvth's 'front door,' and his deeply rasping baritone notes in easygoing fashion, « Got enough ta eat? ?? (To Niahvth from Ilicaeth) « I am fine. I will request meals when I need them. » If Niahvth seems curt, it might be Irianke rubbing off on her. There are no flowers and no spring warmth in her distracted thoughts. But she is a new mother, of unhatched dragons for sure, but much of her focus is on those eggs of hers. (To Ilicaeth from Niahvth) A bobbing of sands in a gritty, rough nod and a swirl away from her mental front door are all the hallmarks Ilicaeth leaves of himself, the still-genial blue returning to his own business. (To Niahvth from Ilicaeth) |
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