Logs:Light in the Darkness
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| RL Date: 27 October, 2015 |
| Who: Ellerey, Z'kiel, Virisceth, Ahtzudaeth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: The night after the Hatching sees Ellerey seeking out Z'kiel for illumination and help. |
| Where: HRW:Living cavern |
| When: Day 5, Month 2, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Light snow. |
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| It's snowing tonight, this day after the hatching, but new-minted weyrlings keep their own time...or at least the hatchlings demand such. It's now a little after 10pm, and Ellerey - looking strung-out, hungry, and concerned - is asking around after bronzerider Z'kiel among the various people still celebrating in the living cavern. Enough of the others in attendance give her whatever their brand of congratulations is, but all the woman can do is nod, mouth thin thanks, and continue onward towards the night hearth. There - at least while Virisceth is soundly asleep - she can find food, refuge, and a momentary measure of peace. It doesn't take much, in the end. Just one rider passing the word - and Ahtzudaeth manifesting in the bowl as if summoned by some arcane device. Z'kiel's arrival in the caverns, however, is markedly less dramatic; he's just there and, thankfully, tall enough to make hunting other people unnervingly easy. It's as Ellerey's making her way toward the nighthearth that he'll eventually catch up, cat-quiet steps transitioning into something audible and coupled with a grunted greeting. "Surprised they didn't lock you up in the infirmary." Observational. Deadpan. And Ellerey is tall enough to easily pick out of a crowd. The ragged woman gives a little startle when cat-footed Z'kiel slightly surprises her - her brown eyes owlish - but she quickly-enough falls in step with him, a twist of lips offered to his words of her current bodily state. Indeed, the new weyrling is scratched and gouged on legs, arms, torso...but it's the enervated exhaustion plain on her face that's the killer. Her slightly strained voice notes low, "They -tried-. She..." Shiver. "Virisceth didn't take too kindly to the place...so many people hovering." How can such a self-confident person suddenly appear so concerned...bordering on fearful? "Thanks for coming." It's all enough to put a kink in Z'kiel's brows. His mouth pulls to a side and, as Ellerey falls into step with him, he uncoils an arm in an attempt to rest it over her shoulders. It's a mild gesture, not one intended to draw her in but, rather, to lend some sense of reassurance. "Could have Ahtzudaeth try to talk to her," is carefully offered, with a tinge of weight; it's plainly the dragon offering through the man - though Virisceth might be aware of something scintillating in the near distance. Briefly. "Should have said something. Could have brought a kit - patched those up. C'mon. Should be somewhere to sit in there. Get you some klah. Something to eat." Low. Even. Measured - if in that coarse voice of his. Again, Ellerey looks vaguely startled at the contact from Z'kiel, but she allows it, her frame felt to contain much more tension than she shows. For a moment, it almost looks as though she might cry, but it's swiftly mastered, though she finally allows a long, heavy sigh to roll through her frame. "No!" is Elle's instant rejoinder - fearful and insistent - for word of Ahtzudaeth contacting Virisceth, her body ramrod stright and fully keyed up, once again, her walking stopped, though the weyrling quickly drops her forehead into one hand, rubs roughly at her brow. Back in the barracks, the deeply slumbering green's chaotic mind finds those peripheral scintillations curious, but she's nowhere near awake, and not wanting to be, so they're ignored. What the bronze 'senses' from his feather-light contact with Viri is a complex darkness - labyrinthine - full of humidity, heat, and resinous, black structures that twist and arch from ceilings to walls to ground. It is distinctly...unnerving. "I...I'm sorry. It's...she's just so..." Handwave. So -much-. Onward she goes again, almost leaning into Zak at points, starting to move faster as he mentions food. "Haven't dared eat since..." Since -her-. A little pressure is applied - but only in the form of his hand kneading, cautiously, at her shoulder. There's a slight click of Z'kiel's tongue at her vehemence, though he doesn't press the suggestion further. He's a solid support otherwise, all hard angles under the leathers; as soon as there's a place to sit - for her, not him - he'll do his best to usher her into that seat. Leave it to Ahtzudaeth to go a little rogue on his own. The darkness is explored with fine motes of light, fairy-like glimmers that wink and flicker; there and gone in the blink of an eye. Barely there, really; hardly that much of an intrusion. Yet, there is a curiosity in the older bronze, one that simply will not remain quiet. His mind is well protected; a labyrinth of mirrors and heavy, obscuring smoke that's redolent of tranquil spices and herbs. He will not touch the structures of the young green's mind, but he will illuminate them. "Dark," Z'kiel offers at Ellerey's handwave, filling the void with the best word he has for it. There's a low sound, a grunt that's partially a hum, and then he's casting about for the easiest source of food and klah to be found. "You need to. Won't do for you to starve." Firm - not stern. At this point, she's actually glad for any support and direction, Elle moving towards that food, where Z'kiel 'points' her...which is finally into that seat. Near bonelessly, she 'thunks' her rear down on it, and instantly leans back into the support of wood, bleary and reddened eyes closing for a moment...before suddenly jerking open, fixating almost frantically on Zak. "Please tell him to stop," is rasped out urgently. "Don't wake i...her up." She's in control of her fear, for now, but it's easily visible in brown eyes. Apparently Virisceth finds those fairy glimmers too interesting - even in sleep - to ignore, their peripheral winkings attracting the attention of that now-gathering darkness within. Soft and sticky, hints of thick moisture begin to sweat from those resins in places, and the humidity grows more and more oppressive. Is that a hint of sinuous motion at the periphery? Even after Z'kiel is done speaking, Ellerey remains silent, as if treading on glass, her eyes squeezed shut tightly for moments as she works to 'take care' of everything 'within.' At some point, her stomach shrills and growls its need, and brown eyes immediately flick open like shutters. "Yeah." Dark. "Sit," even though she's sitting, the word is dropped heavily - a reminder, lest she give half a thought to getting up. He'll even weight the word with a press of his hand on her shoulder before straightening. "He'll be okay. You will be okay. But. You're scared. Tired. Hungry. You're running." A hand is held up while he breaks away - but he's gone less than a minute. The result is a mishmash of whatever he could get his hands on - a healthy mishmash, probably all things he normally eats. Meat. Tubers. Rolls. Water instead of klah, though no explanation is offered; none is probably needed. And Ahtzudaeth? Is either not listening - or is, simply, intent on his own quest. The shifting, slithering presence within merely fascinates the bronze. But, his presence here is limited, his range set; the lights can only go so far before he must place a figurative foot into that eerily organic and alien terrain. He remains just where he is for now, studying what he can and dimming his lights further and further. The pipe smoke scent wafts in, mild and lavender-tinged - for whatever good that soothing scent might do. "Eat." And Zak'll hook a chair and sit with her, holding the plate and glass so she doesn't have to. Food. Food is beyond good, right now. It's also warm and bright in its own way, and it's -not- Virisceth. When Zak returns with it, Elle sets into it ravenously, not bothering with her usual manners, brown eyes trained on nothing between herself and the bronzerider as she eats...and worries. At times, the woman halts her eating for some reason, then starts again...though she finally jerks her gaze up to the man, and notes in a brittle voice, "I want him to -stop-." Now. Even pipe smoke - more subtle than those sweet (and dimmed) little lights - is enough of an 'odd' sensation to attract the growing focus of the monster's slumbering mind. Beyond them, Virisceth's tired mind floats in darkness along those wisps of fragrant smoke, curious and slowly starting to focus more. That alien darkness? It continues to grow, to press towards Ahtzudaeth, accompanied now by soft drippings and faint, hissing whooshes of steam. "I'm trying," is issued in a low tone, one that's not quite strained, but on the edge of it. A thicker rasp. Definitely working. Z'kiel's gaze goes dull and his awareness of just what Ellerey's doing is similarly dulled. The plate is turned mechanically to offer up things that haven't been touched - if such is needed - and, likewise, the glass is offered, but he's split - if only for the span of a minute, maybe two. Ahtzudaeth listens - but, in the end, it's neither to rider nor to the awareness of Ellerey's distress. Instead, that alien darkness will meet with another kind: heavy and velveteen, the weight of an ancient set of robes being settled over all. The scents are gone. The lights, too. The presence is fading, but the darkness remains. "Can't promise he'll listen in the future," is finally uttered in a voice that is, suddenly, quite tired indeed. "Okay..." is sighed out, Ellerey now knowing all-too-well the intransigence of 'some' personalities. As Zak works, she eats with all her heart, but with little focus, the woman mostly thinking about her darkling dragonet and doing her distracted best to ease Virisceth back into full somnolescence. The frightening little green's mind rubs up against the nap of Ahtzudaeth's velveteen robes, the sensation a pleasant one to her, that darkness rippling, undulating...the scents of metal and resin now apparent, and growing. Ohhh, sweet darkness. As the bronze's presence filters away, Virisceth's left to float along on the wake of his leftover velvet, still rubbing herself against it, until they blend smoothly...and she's fading back towards full slumber. "I...all I care about is -now-." Beat. Shiver. "Just an hour, even..." Things start to settle - and, with it, Z'kiel's able to heave a slow, hissed sigh of relief, one that's barely audible. He waits patiently. He watches. He listens - and not just with his own senses. Ahtzudaeth watches from the cover of the robes; waits until the pressure of that alien presence has faded into slumber. He might even, in those moments, gently press back as if to tuck the dark green into bed - so to speak. And then he is gone, retreated into his own den of thoughts and observations. "We can give you that," he finally says. "An hour. Two. Whenever you need it. Whatever you need. Just ask." His tone remains low and even, perhaps even comfortable in its roughness. "You want any more?" The plate is jiggled a little. Listening still. Oh thank Faranth for that! Virisceth's too young to know when canny Ahtzudaeth's hiding under his own robes, and when his presence steps back out again, the green's characteristic darkness has returned to the level it was when he first 'looked in.' His 'tucking' receives only a ripple of those alien, resinous web works, but nothing more... which finds Ellerey soon slumping in her own kind of relief. Between bites and sips, the new-minted greenrider almost manages to shuffle a wan smile to her mouth, but it only manages to reach her bleary eyes. "Thank you, Z'kiel." Beat. "Was somebody there for you, too?" When Ahtzudaeth was a baby, and made his life difficult. Wait. Frown. "He seems much more...civilized." So... not-quite hell, then. "You don't have to..." Help her? Be nice? Get her food? "Didn't... really need anyone," is an admission that takes a moment to manifest. Z'kiel's focus shifts to Ellerey properly, with a reptilian sense of assessment that's only passingly predatory; instinctive and gone in a blink. "He wasn't hard. No," that's not right and he tries again, "he's... him. Always pushing. Always insisting I do things. Do this. Learn that. Didn't sleep much during weyrlinghood. Still don't sleep much now." He looks away for just a moment, just long enough to gather some thoughts together before: "We don't have to. But. He showed you a path. You took it. Now- now, I think, he feels some... need?" It isn't the right word, but he'll stick with it. "Need to help you along the way." He'll let that hang for a moment or two before adding, "And he'll understand if you want to go it alone. Some people are like that. No shame in it, either way. But. I mean it. We mean it. If there's anything you need - ask." All Ellerey does at this point is eat, drink, and listen to Zak's oddly comforting voice...reminding her that she's grounded, not crazy. There's simple, tired nods to acknowledge his words are finding as attentive of an 'audience' as she can offer, right now...until the bronzerider speaks of Ahtzudaeth again. A dry, "As long as he doesn't unduly upset or wake her...or make her curious enough to have her do something..." A sudden shiver courses over the woman's body. Something -bad.- As for going it alone...for a bare second, Ellerey appears almost paniced, then clamping down on herself harshly, her frame taut. "She's..." Swallow. "She's a -nightmare-." The fear, loathing, distress, and guilt within that intense whisper aren't hidden. Finally, the weyrling nods a few times, tries to have one of her hands give Z'kiel's forearm a small squeeze. "I think I will." "He's good. He might be curious - but it's... it's always with a purpose." Z'kiel's brow furrows a little and he shakes his head. "He'll be fine. He can protect himself - maybe better than you think. Better than I think. Might be good to have him distract her sometimes, so you can focus on you." Is that him? The bronze? The words continue to come slowly, carefully measured to the syllable. "He's..." is a start, but ends clumsily on: "He's a light in the darkness." But that's where things are disconnected in a sense; though his features knit up with concern, there is no way of knowing that nightmare. "And even... even the worst nightmares aren't so bad when you finally see the thing that's after you." His arm is there and it can handle the squeeze, certainly; hard and corded muscle resides beneath that layer of leather and, probably, a sweater of some sort. "It will be okay, Ellerey." And it's not a promise - but the reassurance is nearly as good. "But Quinlys and the others told me... -I'm- responsible for her." So tired. "I can't let Ahtzudaeth handle her. She's..." There's the fear again, back, knocking behind Ellerey's eyes. "She'll only heed -me-, right now." Her rapid eating has ceased, now, food forgotten once her need was assuaged. The weyrling looks about ready to answer Z'kiel's words of facing the nightmare, but she stops herself, merely nods once, then whispers, "I hope so." And though Virisceth is still quite asleep, the woman finds herself listing forward from the chair, standing slowly. "I'd better get back...before she wakes up." And the nightmare resumes. "You are. But." Z'kiel pulls the dishes away and sets them aside, allowing him to hunker forward in his chair. "Sometimes you will need help. Sometimes the Weyrlingmasters aren't there or your fellow weyrlings are too tied up in their own issues." And if there's a trace of something there, he's quick to bury it. "Focus on the union. Not the fear. And if you are afraid, there's a light not too far away." When Ellerey stands, he does likewise, offering an arm and shoulder and all the support he can. "We'll get you back in one piece," is a promise, or might as well be. "C'mon." His mouth pulls to a side with a trace of dry humor as he adds, "At least you'll both be sleeping more than you're awake. At least for a while. Maybe you're as much her nightmare as she is yours." "Sometimes..." Ellerey tiredly allows herself to admit, the logic of Z'kiel's words inescapable. Word of 'union' with her now much darker half brings an irrepressible shudder to the woman's frame again, then a deep sigh. "I can't let my fear... Her. Rule me." It's spoken like a protective charm. perhaps like the one she still had in her pocket. Blink. "Thank you for the charm, by the way. I... guess it worked." Sort-of. And, as the two 'riders' slowly amble back outside, into the snow, Elle cannot find herself agreeing much with Zak's last observation. |
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