Logs:Hope and Hostility
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| RL Date: 9 August, 2015 |
| Who: Ka'ge, Ead, Zymadiath, Caidelyth |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Weyrlings talk about their missing Weyrwoman while dragons mourn their dam. |
| Where: Lakeside Grove, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 28, Month 6, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Warm and pleasant, puffy clouds that get chased by the winds into wispy brushes against a bright blue sky, the summer weather is a little on the warm side late in the day but all-around tolerable. |
| Mentions: Lilah/Mentions, Dee/Mentions |
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Hardy mountain trees cluster together on the far end of the lake, providing a shady retreat beneath high, spreading branches. Right along the edge of the trees, several stone picnic tables are set up to welcome fresh air diners. Here and there within the grove, tumbled boulders from ages ago provide places to sit for those taking a break from a walk around the shore. Toward the Bowl wall, the trees grow more closely together providing a somewhat secluded spot for a private conversation or quiet contemplation. It's that spot near the bowl wall, the one where the trees grow a little heavier, a little thicker. Protecting those who seek sanctuary in the grove from immediate sight. Especially now, with Rukbat set over the edge of the bowl and with the light almost gone from the sky above to give way to the stars waiting to shine inbetween the puffs of darkening clouds that seem more like floating shadows than evaporated precipitation. At least, that's what Ka'ge's thinking as he sits on a branch of one of those trees, well above the ground. Chiv is with him for once, the firelizard curled around his neck tightly, little blade-like talons hooked into the extra layers of fabric around his neck. Zymadiath flies above, back and forth. Back and forth. The length of the bowl, the width of the bowl. Back and forth tirelessly. Relentlessly. The darkling bronze nigh matches the night sky if one wasn't aware of the movement his wings give as he lands on a ledge here or there to turn and circle again, not yet with the strength to just circle for hours. Young yet. Frustratingly still young. Ka'ge has his eyes closed, but he doesn't sleep. Arms crossed, a leg tucked up under him upon that branch, the other swinging lazily, slowly below. While it's impossible for a weyrling to completely disappear, Ead has found ways to nearly achieve it. She has pulled away, wrapped herself completely in the protective embrace of Caidelyth's good heart and the exhausting, never-ending lessons. It's the closest to a vanishing act that one can pull in close quarters. Even now, spotting Zymadiath's circling form, there's some trepidation on the girl's face as she wanders down by the far end of the lake. Caidelyth glides not far above, her own flight far lower than that of the bronze. Though her wing may be fixed, those muscles aren't quite as strong as those of her brothers and sisters who weren't gifted with such a strange quirk at birth. For now, she stays closer to the ground, ready to come in for a landing whenever those muscles begin to tire. Ead's steps slow as she nears the wall, not having spotted Ka'ge where he perches on that branch. But still, she knows he can't be far. She lets out a sharp whistle -- a single, piercing note to alert him to her presence. Zymadiath must notice his green clutchmate, but those mental shadows of his are utterly distracted, distressed, and deteriorating into bitterness and volatility. He can't get high enough, he can't circle long enough. He can't find her. At one point, he lands at a ledge just shy in elevation of the star stones and a watchdragon nearby. With his wings falling around him like a heavy cape in dramatic shadow, he raises his darkness-masked maw to roar into the night. It's no keen, but fury in its place. By now, the word of Lilah's disappearance and inability to be found is wide-spread, even to the weyrlings kept so busy and out of- as much as their babysitters can achieve- the normal ebb and flow and fluster of the Weyr. Ka'ge himself has been not so unlike Ead. He's been normal. Utterly in the middle, unworthy of intervention nor praise. Even his smart mouth has been in check. And although he and Dee were very close for the first couple of months, once their closeness landed them with some significant punishments, they since have been quite separate. Especially now, after the unImpressed candidate had been sent away. "I saw you coming." Comes a simply calm voice from above before her sharp whistle ceases. The words are humored, that humor that's been stifled for some length of time now. "Looking for me?" Although he opens his eyes to watch her from his lofty seat, he doesn't otherwise move. Caidelyth is surprisingly calm, given the deep feeling the young green is capable of. There's sadness there, surely, echoed in the slightly dimmed sapphire of her mind... but unlike Zymadiath, she has hope. Futile, unsubstantiated, utterly unrealistic hope that her dam will yet return. And that spark of hope keeps something alive in Ead, something she'd never allow on her own terms. Perhaps there's a chance that Lilah is yet alive, somewhere. Somehow. Her head tilts as she catches a voice, easily following that trail to his dangling leg. "I never look for you," she answers, the words underscored by bitterness. As he doesn't move, she takes up a place leaning against the trunk of the tree. "Zymadiath alright?" "Then what was that for?" Ka'ge's grin is more notable in his tone than visible on his face, the words indicating the whistle she'd used when she arrived. Eyes under shadow are cast down towards her from his spot, watching her for a few long moments as she leans against the tree. Her question doesn't divert his watchtfulness, and his tone carries on with the lack of caring, the aloofness piggybacked on his humored undertones, "No." Seems a very easy answer to what is actually quite a weighty subject. "But he'll learn." There's lines on his brow, likely indicating the headache that Zymadiath's stress draws on him. The bronze above them stays on that ledge now, that peak which overlooks his domain, his 'city'. His wings remain partially mantled in that heavy, over-sized cape-like semi-circle behind him. Quiet now as his roar fades into the darkness beyond him, he hunches into that self-made sanctuary as he watches, the only thing evident as he stays there being the whirling color of his eyes- licked red, sparked orange, and rapidly changing amidst the facets. "And Caidelyth?" The boy lack of concern doesn't seem false as he allows some of his expression- a tired, light grin on an otherwise plain face- to be revealed as a hand lifts to lazily pull back his hood. "Wanted to know where to avoid," Ead intones dryly, ignoring the way that her words are in direct conflict with her actions. Her hair is a little longer now, still cropped short, but perhaps showing a hint more femininity. There's something slightly different in the way she carries herself -- something that's evolving at a snail's pace, but is there all the same. "He probably will," she agrees after a moment, her pale green eyes lifting first to track the dark bronze, and then falling to where Caidelyth circles at a lower altitude. There's something watchful in the way the green seems to fly a crescent around her brother's perch; something almost protective, in spite of the fact that her weakened wing and smaller size make it impossible for her to match him. Her twinkling, softly musical tones are there to offer a soothing melody. "She has hope," Ead admits slowly, her gaze still tracking the green and only flickering to Ka'ge for a moment. "She thinks they're still out there, somewhere. We didn't feel them die, so..." A shrug. "It seems to help her." "Good." Ka'ge settles back at her first response, as if more appeased by it than he should be regardless of its truth, lifting his gaze away from her up to the dragons, each in turn. "And you're not telling her the truth?" Calmly, still, he speaks like it's been confirmed, and in his words, it seems that he's done so himself. His manners, his response; none of them demonstrate such hopefulness. His amusement continues, if more thin, "Waste of effort letting her think she's not dead. Gone." A hiss in his general direction is not from him, but the brown firelizard that slinks off of his shoulders, slithering away more like a tunnelsnake than a tiny dragon to sit on the branch instead of his boy. Kael watches him for a second or two. "Unless you think she's still alive too." Ead's shoulders lift in a shrug, scraping gently against the bark of the tree with that simple movement. "It's not not the truth," she answers, after a moment of hesitation. She tilts her head back, lifting her eyes to scan through the foliage above. For all of his amusement, her tone is flat, save for that occasional edge of a blade that cuts through her words. Still, it's almost as though something that fueled her is gone. She's diminished -- although perhaps that's just the recent tragedy shaking even one among the most hardhearted of the Weyr's occupants. "We don't know she's dead. Could be happy somewhere else." There's a darkness to those words which suggests she doesn't believe it. "I don't think she really believes they'll return to us. But if she wants to think they're happy, I don't see a reason to deny her that." "You lie to children to keep them soft, protect them from the real shit." Ka'ge's amount of caring for the subject dwindles further as the grin fades, and whatever's left is simply neutral. What should cause noise- whether it be the rustling of leaves or the creak of the branch itself- doesn't, as the boy pushes himself off of the branch and lands on the ground below. A soft landing, one which ends with him in a crouch, and slowly rising to stand to his full height. He still doesn't face her, particularly, looking out over the bowl instead, a lingering blance at the black silhouette against darker background. Zymadiath's mind is revoked, present in the collective mind of the Weyr, but yet as reserved as it could be, the shadows as far receeded as they would be in the middle of a vibrantly sunny day. "I figured you would know better." He remarks after a good lapse of time, "Unless she's changed you that much already." Ah, and here's that rough tone creeping back into her voice, and that old anger beginning to surface. But it's only on Caidelyth's behalf that Ead rises to the bait, muttering, "She understands real shit, probably better than you or I." There's admiration underscoring that affront, perhaps betraying how deeply that emotion runs which connects her to the kindhearted green. She too draws herself up to her full height, back sliding against the tree trunk as she comes out of her slouched position. "I don't know if they're dead or not. Probably." A shrug, callously detatched accompanies these words. She had no real love for Lilah, after all. "If she has, it's not your concern. I'm sure you're thrilled with all of this. Dee can become Weyrwoman, and you can be her little Weyrleader." There's no hiding the bitterness in those words. "She's a few months old. You really think she understands everything?" Ka'ge is blatently condescending as some of that old fire creeps back into Ead's responses, the edge of his lips lifting slightly. There's certainly a ring of replies that are caught just at the tip of his tongue, but he steps away in necessity to pick one and not reveal them all, almost exiting the grove of trees to stop just short of where roots give way to softer, lake-licked soils. "I could, couldn't I?" Although his tone doesn't match the surprise those words intend, "Is that supposed to be your concern? More than losing the weyrwoman whose gold laid your dragon's egg?" Sure, there should be some emotion attached to this, but from him? It's provoking, and nothing else. "I think she understands more than than most of the others." This is less heated, stated more like a simple fact. Caidelyth watches, always watches. The green is surprisingly aware of the world around her for one who seems to have her head up in the clouds. As he moves, so does Ead, bracing hands against the tree trunk to push away and gain her feet. Though her steps take her toward the edge of the grove, she's careful to keep a few paces between them. While there may have been walls between them before, she has built them even higher now. "No, it's not my concern," she scoffs, her gaze drifting anywhere but his direction. "You're not my concern." There's an unspoken 'anymore' which lingers on the end of that statement. "Neither is she." Zymadiath is motionless. If it wasn't for the whirling of faceted eyes, he might as well be some draconic statue, built into the rock he watches from. Ka'ge draws his arms up to fold them across his chest, and as Ead steps up towards the edge of the grove, his head turns just enough that he can see her out of the corner of his eyes beyond the edge of his partially pulled-back hood. "She's not the only goldrider left." He points out casually, but that seems to be more of a selfish front, and then he moves on before providing further detail, "You have no concerns then? None at all." His mocking takes it easy for a moment. It's present but a little less wicked than previous statements. "If you don't care about me," which is clearly the more important of the topics at hand, "What do you care about?" Caidelyth begins to tire, that weakened wing beginning to ache even with short rests between her sentinel flights. If there's room upon Zymadiath's ledge, she'll settle herself there, curled up in a little ball of green hide at his side. If not, she'll find the nearest ledge that affords her room to watch over him comfortably. There's a soft sort of lullaby that drifts through her thoughts, shared with any near enough to hear it. "She's not," Ead agrees with a flippant wave of her hand, "but she has that kind of luck." It's unclear from her flat tone whether this luck is something to be envied or pitied. She takes a deep breath, breathing in the summer before letting all out in a woosh of air. "I care about her." Her head leans in the direction of the green, even if her eyes don't follow. "That's all I care about. She's all I ever need to care about." The young dark bronze is almost a tiny green-sized dragon at his age, though mentally he is of course much larger. But his youngling size means even most small ledges have more than enough room for more than just himself. Even if he, as he is now, is positioned in the middle of it and as rigid as a lump of stone. As Caidelyth joins him, the heavy drape of a wing nearest her twitches, unfurling slightly as if to send her off. The red of his facets becomes more prominent, more rapid. But as she curls up, the whirling slows, the reds ebb into more of the oranges as they were before. Apparently he deems not to deny her this, nor chase her off in his vengeance-tainted discontent. "And you're good enough with that? She doesn't want you to have more?" Ka'ge is studious of her expression, of her changes in posture, but all from that lingering sideglance he's trained on her. Eventually, he leans a shoulder onto the tree next to him. There is a stubbornness to Caidelyth's caring, as though she continues to care for the dark bronze in spite of what seems to be apathy on the subject. Once she's settled there beside him, she doesn't move, or seek to intrude any further upon his domain physically. Her thoughts are there, shimmering and soothing as always, but she seems content to merely be by his side in this time of tumult. "She might. Friends, at least." Ead lifts a hand to run it through that shaggy hair of hers, still unused to longer strands. "But either I hate them or they hate me, so fuck it." Zymadiath's shadows writhe at the edge of those shimmering thoughts, steady in tempo despite his physical embodiement of bitterness and hostility. They may even be a sliver more prominent, a hint more willing to be in her presence, even if his darkness seems to negate anything that comes too close. "Hate is a strong word." Ka'ge muses, looking out at the dark bowl as he finally relinquishes his stare of her. The stare that, in its last seconds, swept over her in full. "Just like friend is a strong word." Though, apparently 'fuck' isn't. "You have a captured audience here. I'm sure someone is worthy." It's more of a question than a statement, even if it lacks the appropriate inflection. "Do you hate me?" The obvious response is saved until last, a grin hard to stifle as the words leave him. Caidelyth doesn't attempt to brighten his shadows or to temper that hostility, no matter how stark a contract they may play to her serenity. Her only shift is to gently adjust that weaker wing, flexing and settling again to sooth a slight ache. She doesn't struggle against that darkness, instead accepting it and spinner her own shadows into the quiet lilt of her song. "I don't do things by halves," Ead answers, a smirk hinting in the corners of her lips for the first time. She shifts under his stare, tugging at her hair again in what might appear to be a moment of self-consciousness. "I thought..." The words trail off quickly, punctuated by a shake of her head. Whatever she was about to say remains locked behind her lips. There's a brittle, bitter laugh that follows on the heels of his question. "Aye," she answers, turning her head to stare at him. "I do." Zymadiath's attentions return to the Weyr, though remaining inclusive of Caidelyth. To watch. To not miss anything else, ever again. To be the night's observant shadow over all those who reside there. Ka'ge's chuckle is light hearted and breathily quiet, and yet at the same time as dark as it could be. It's not cut short like most of his laughs, either, instead being allowed to heave his chest in an apparently tickled manner. A boot scuffs softly against the ground, idly, digging into the soft soils that make up the base of the little grove. His blue-green eyes return to her, catching the stare she gives him and holding it for the time she'd leave it. "Good." He echoes a reply he'd given earlier, though this time even more resolute in it. "At least someone in this Weyr has some sharding sense to them." With his sentiment, he straightens and takes a step away from the grove, from her. As he does so, he turns so that he's more facing her than away into the bowl, "Might help if you try to make a few friends, though," And he pauses, the grin growing into a much more playful one as he continues to walk backwards, "before you make a whole group of half friends in the flight weyr without 'em." If Zymadiath's role is to play Batman, Caidelyth seems content to be an Alfred. Someone has to keep things in orders so that the vigilantes can stalk the night skies. If Ka'ge doesn't look away, that stare will last some time, as Ead is unflinching in her gaze for longer than would be comfortable for most. Eventually she seems to grow tired and turns her gaze toward the skies with a bleak huff of a laugh. "I thought you were different," she says quietly, and there's a hitch of something that sounds suspiciously like feeling before she catches herself. "Turns out you're just like everyone else. It's not sense." She makes no move to stop him, but her head does turn back to watch his depature with a resentful gaze. "Those aren't friends, they're just the people I'll be fucking for the night." And there's no small amount of heat and bitterness behind those words. They spur her into action, and she stalks off to make her own exit, deliberately shoving past him as she strides away from the grove. |
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