Logs:Immaterial
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| RL Date: 12 July, 2015 |
| Who: Farideh, H'kon, Roszadyth, Arekoth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Farideh puts recent rumor to use and questions H'kon about his intentions, while Arekoth and Roszadyth get to know each other. |
| Where: Feeding Grounds, High Reaches |
| When: Day 28, Month 3, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Cold. Cloudy. |
| Mentions: Irianke/Mentions, Azaylia/Mentions, Aishani/Mentions |
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| Dragons stalking and eviscerating their prey is a familiar sight at the feeding grounds, and no less a chubby, wide-eyed queen ripping at a beast's flesh in that decidedly dainty -- however carnivorousness can be deemed so -- way of hers; blood smears Roszadyth's snout and fore-talons. At the fence, Farideh is leaning, with her fingers wrapped around the topmost slat. She's dressed in her old, worn riding leathers, and for once, has her shoulder knot attached to her shoulder. Though her eyes follow the movements of her pale gold dragon, they're distracted, her thoughts taking precedence over the present. Amidst the present is Arekoth. Will he be missed when he lands, outside the fence first, so that H'kon can dismount, still in full gear from... something riderly. Normally, Arekoth would go ahead and hop right back over that fence once his rider is clear. But there's that young gold there, and the way she's eating makes him stop and watch from where he is. H'kon is likewise (arguably) creepy, pausing in his progress toward the fence to consider that weyrling goldrider. It would seem that Roszadyth doesn't notice the brown's arrival and continues to feed, unperturbed by anything else around her, but it's Farideh who glances up from the fence and towards H'kon. Her smile can't be considered wholly warm, and still it's a step up from their last encounter. "H'kon," she greets, letting go of the railing and taking a step back. Sun and music, soft and light, reaches out to Arekoth. « Are you not hungry? » Roszadyth is curious, however preoccupied she may seem. « You will not languish. There is much for all. » (To Arekoth from Roszadyth) "Farideh," H'kon greets back. Because he was addressed by his name, rather than title. Because she doesn't yet outrank him, though there's still a certain mindful inclination of his head to her, this goldrider. H'kon's breath is such that it moves his shoulders, faintly. He even tries something of a smile. But he doesn't approach. An that smile doesn't look all that natural or easy on his lined face. To Roszadyth, Arekoth's mind is cold, crisp, a clean winter morning, though there are no colours or images to pair with it, not yet. It's not the sort of mind to undo that sunlight, or swallow that music whole. They can just be clearer, in that cold. « Aren't you, little Roszadyth? » "How are you?" is casual conversation, as the goldrider turns away from the fence, to face the brownrider trying so valiantly to smile. "It's been-- I hope you are well." Farideh's hands find her jacket pockets and tuck in, because despite the lack of snow, it's still cold outside and those clouds covering the sun don't look to be going anywhere anytime soon. Roszadyth doesn't push, doesn't test, but accepts his wintery chill with aplomb. « Yes, » she answers, without hesitation. « And I hastened, here, yet, you are out there. » (To Arekoth from Roszadyth) How is H'kon, ever? "Well enough." It's given with the usual little nod that seems like, if it were a bit stronger, it might actually make him hop a bit. Following that is a more analytical look, aimed, unapologetically, at Farideh. "And you?" At least he doesn't quite have the ferocity of aspect as his dragon. « But, » says Arekoth, the voice sounding like it's coming from a barrel of a chest, jolly enough, « you're not hastening much now. » That might be a hint of laughter, that little faint glow of yellow at the back of his mind. « So careful! » (To Roszadyth from Arekoth) "Well enough?" Farideh arches a brow at him, but concedes to give a curt nod of her own. "I'm fine. I'm always fine. It's not easy, but it will be fine." Emphasis on those fines. "I hear you met with Irianke recently," might be out of left field, and spoken innocently enough; she loos genuinely interested in his answer, beyond the pleasantries. "Hm," says H'kon, of all those fines, and if those green eyes track even slightly toward Roszadyth before steadying back to Farideh, well. Perhaps he's getting a bit more readable in his old age. "It was not a planned meeting," says the brownrider, with the faintest lift of his eyebrows. Not on his part, at least. "Of interest to you?" Laughter? Roszadyth is even softer, seemingly uncertain in the face of Arekoth's jolliness. « No. I would not want to eat too fast and not savor my meal, nor upset myself later. » (To Arekoth from Roszadyth) That glow dies away soon enough, left only with the jovial tones, and that crisp cold, always. « But it's going to be cold. » (To Roszadyth from Arekoth) "No?" It might be disappointment in the young woman's voice, then, but her smile only stretches a little wider. "Shouldn't it be? If, as they say, she's truly asked you to put your cap in for Weyrleader, then it matters to me as much as it matters to her. Not that I would have--" She stops there, pointedly, her stare level. No music, no light left, there's only the primness of her mindvoice, the reasonable conviction to her thoughts. « I do not mind. » Roszadyth is curious, next, « Do you? » (To Arekoth from Roszadyth) "I do not recall a formal request of that nature being made," says H'kon, a bit dryly, with a quirk at the corners of his mouth that, of course, doesn't really look like a nascent smile, but like something may have made one of his back teeth hurt. H'kon's chin lifts a bit as Farideh stops herself. "Is this something you've begun to consider, if I may ask?" And if he may not, presumably, he'll retract the question, and go on his way? To Roszadyth, Arekoth glows a bit again, pink, this time, still at the back of his mind; no flare to be seen, no ribbon, no crackle. « Well, anytime good meat goes cold it's a bit of a heartbreak. But mostly I suppose I'm concerned with mine, hmm? » "Begun is hardly the word for it, when it's something that's been hanging over all our heads since our last dear Weyrwoman's untimely death." Farideh shifts on the balls of her feet and studies the brownrider, her own expression closed off, save the purse of lips. "Do you think you're worthy of it?" is all she asks, after, quietly. Curiosity returns, with the warmth and a tiny bit of humor matching her cultivated tones. « I am ever so sorry that your heart is breaking, » the little queen returns. « But there are beasts aplenty, and they are all fresh and warm. » It's no coincidence that her head lifts from the remnants of her meal's carcass, her wide-spaced eyes settling on Arekoth across the fence. (To Arekoth from Roszadyth) "A second nature here, though, certainly," is too wry than, upon reflection, H'kon might believe a weyrling goldrider should warrant. He brings his arms to cross over his chest, and arches an eyebrow. "Arekoth is brown, despite his protests. Our worth is immaterial in this. The Weyr will need certainty. And we will not chase." « Breaking, » stresses Arekoth. He might have left it there, but that sharp face turns to consider his rider. « Here, » is decided, next. « Let me get you another one while I get my own. » And those wings take him to the skies. (To Roszadyth from Arekoth) "There have been brown Weyrleaders before." Farideh's voice is level, when she points out the obvious, as is her gaze, but there's an almost imperceptible narrowing of her eyes; just barely. A melodic sound, much like laughter, flows from the antique-colored gold to the brown, but Roszadyth is gracious enough to acquiesce to the other dragon's offer. « I would be indebted to you, Arekoth. » (To Arekoth from Roszadyth) "Always with contention," says that little brownrider. But his brow has earned a furrow. It, of course, goes unexplained, but there it is, pointed at Farideh nonetheless. Meanwhile, Arekoth circles, and looks for a really, really good one. "That doesn't make it not worthwhile. People will always talk, I've heard," Farideh replies, looking not the least bit wry, even if she should. "He caught a gold before. You were almost Weyrleader, then." And Roszadyth? She looks suitably impressed, watching the brown scout for their meals, without intruding into his concentration space. "Hm," says H'kon, almost a grunt more than a vocalisation. But it's not frank disagreement, either. His attention, from there, turns to Arekoth's progress. The brown has zeroed in on a tender young cow. That's the one. Her. H'kon will contentedly watch, and think. To think, and take time to do so, is not a foreign concept to Farideh, and she is content to turn back to the fence and think, herself. Her eyes go back to the dragons in the pen, working on their kills, but her gaze is once more distant. She'll stay until Roszadyth is done, without saying another word to the brownrider, or anyone else; words best saved for another day. |
Comments
Alida (03:55, 13 July 2015 (PDT)) said...
There goes devious Farideh, putting 'ideas' into brownrider heads. Alida might say, "Awesome." ;)
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