Logs:Not Better By Glowlight
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 8 July, 2014 |
| Who: Geviaur, Jadzia, L'sha, R'hin |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Geviaur is tall and has muscles. L'sha likes him. Jadzia and R'hin still don't know each others' names. |
| Where: Living Cavern, HRW/Some Creepy Rock |
| When: Day 10, Month 3, Turn 35 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: G'laer/Mentions |
    |
| A day filled with various taxing chores is bound to work up an appetite, and fresh from an anvil at the craft complex is Geviaur. The result is a man that is faintly dirty, still slightly sweaty, slouching over a plate of food that he is working on diligently. Another candidate is sitting with him for a short time, they exchange some conversation - though on his part it's largely grunts around his food - but shortly thereafter the other candidate leaves... and there he is, on his own. What a coincidence, then, that Jadzia is likewise without company when she happens upon the empty seat near Geviaur. She has a plate in one hand, a mug in the other, and her oversized jacket is open enough to reveal a weird, but subtle glow of light coming out of one of the inside pockets. "Hey," she says as she sits down without asking. Because why would anyone ask about that sort of thing. Geviaur doesn't seem to think anything of it. Or, rather, he does - but nothing negative. The thought he has of it involves a glance over at her, and then a second take that involves his leaning back in his chair, temporarily distracted from his food, to take a long moment of appreciation. "Hey. Jadzia, right?" he says, pulling the name out of /somewhere/ despite their not having met properly. Seeing each other around the candidate quarters, and whatnot, right? /He/ notices the glow, though. Powers of observation. A dark eyebrow arches, a rough finger is pointed. "You're shining." L'sha strolls into the living cavern, a small blue firelizard clinging to his shoulder. He heads to the serving tables to make himself a late night snack and replenish his supply of flit food. He pours a glass of red wine to go with his snack of fruit, cheese and bread, then turns toward the tables. He notices a familiar face at one and veers toward it. "Right." She is, indeed, Jadzia. "And you're... tall guy with muscles." Surely she's heard his name at some point? But tall and muscles trumps names, sorry. When she reaches into her pocket, it's not the thing that's glowing that she pulls out. This is from the pocket at her other breast. She unscrews her flask and pours some (quite a lot) of what's inside into her mug before putting it away without offering to share. But then she pulls the fading glow out of her other pocket to set it on the table. "Not polite to point," Jadzia tells tall guy with muscles. Geviaur grins broadly, appreciation apparent in response to the description of himself. He'll take it. Tall Guy With Muscles it is, and he doesn't bother to supply his name in response to it. He watches expectantly though, waiting to find out what's glowing - expectation disappointed as she just withdraws a drink, though the gesture - spiking her own beverage - garners a certain amount of approval. As the glow is reveealed he nods, reaches for his own drink, raises it to her. "I'm not much concerned with polite. Cheers." As he takes a swig off the bottle, he spots L'sha. Recognition registered, he raises a hand in greeting to the rider. L'sha sets his plate and glass down at the table across from Geviaur, beaming cheerily at him. "Hi, Geviaur, how're you tonight?" He gasps as he sees the man's knot. "Oh, you got Searched! How wonderful! I had a feeling you might be." He glances at Jadzia and sees her knot as well. "Congratulations to you, too! I'm L'sha, by the way, green Rillaeth's rider. Nice to meet you!" The blue on L'sha's shoulder screeches noisily by way of greeting. "Oh, and this is Azurite." He holds up a chunk of wherry to the blue, who gobbles it down greedily. A glow isn't all that exciting, but it casts an interesting light anyway. It might be romantic if there were anyone concerned with romance. Jadzia is not one of those people. "Cheers," she says as she lifts her mug, then takes a healthy, not very polite drink of her own. Blue eyes shift toward the rider and flicker a brief down and up motion over the whole of him before her attention is settled on her food. "Thanks. Jadzia," she offers before her mouth is too full for much talking. But her gaze flickers toward Geviaur, brow arched slightly. "I'm doing very well," is the Tall Man with Muscles' response, given lazily towards the greenrider. "And how 'bout you, L'sha? How are the sweaters coming?" Much of his own meal is now consumed and he's satisfied to pick periodically, relaxed back in his chair in an almost lounging position as he enjoys the pleasure of company. "Not Searched," he adds, with a flash of a dimpled grin. "No dragon that daft, I'd wager." However, he doesn't elaborate, instead tilting his head back to finish his drink with one long swallow. L'sha grins and chuckles a bit at Geviaur. "Well, dunno if I can tackle a sweater just yet. Maybe if I get some downtime. Which isn't likely, given, well, I'm a rider. Busy busy! Not Searched, eh? So you asked to Stand, or were asked? I never tried that route myself, even though I grew up here. I'm a more traditional dragon-Searched type of guy." Geviaur's grin and dimples cause a slight flush to the greenrider's face, and the muscles don't go unnoticed either. He pulls his eyes away from the man to Jadzia. "So, Jadzia, where are you from? Did you also ask to Stand or did a dragon Search you?" Jadzia knows his name now, but will she ever actually use it? That will certainly remain to be seen. "If no dragon is daft enough to Search you, surely none will be daft enough to Impress you." So of course when L'sha is asking her whether she asked or was properly Searched, she says after a moment of hesitation, "I was Searched. Teisyth." Because saying a dragon's name makes these things more credible. And just to try making everyone uncomfortable, she says to Tall Guy with Muscles, "I think the greenrider likes you. You know, like, like likes you." "Guess I'll find out," Geviaur says easily in return to that barb from Jadzia - his voice, a deep rumble, seems perfectly at ease. Only an observant eye would notice the slight tensing in his broad shoulders at her comment. He moves on gracefully though. "Asked, yes. I'm old, figured I better take my shot or let the it go." He spreads his hands, large and well calloused, and gives a shrug. "Choosing to be optimistic." Jadzia's last comment catches his ear and he looks at her, eyebrow arched again in response to her... observation. Then he looks at the greenrider, drops the man a wink. "What's not to like?" Confidence is not, apparently, an issue here. "Jadzia... searched by Teisyth. What did you do before all this?" L'sha's eyes light up. "Oh, I love Teisyth! She's such a sweetie, Rillaeth gets along really well with her. So I guess you met G'laer, then? We were in the same weyrling class. He really helped me out with self defense." He doesn't seem uncomfortable in the slightest at Jadzia's teasing and returns Geviaur's wink. "Very little not to like from where I'm sitting. But you're not as old as G'laer when he Impressed. He was the oldest of our class. Oldest weyrling I've ever heard of, actually. And here I thought I was old to be Standing, they usually trot twelve-year olds out onto the sands. I guess that's mostly during a Pass, though." "I was a whore in Ista," says Jadzia without missing a beat. "That's how I met G'laer. He needed some love and I needed a few marks. And I guess I did a good job because Teisyth decided I should come back to the Weyr with them." If she's lying, she's damned good at it. She offers a smile between the men and her gaze drops back to her food so she can continue shoveling it into her mouth. Geviaur gives this due consideration, eyeing the blonde with absolute attention. She's earned it. "I suppose..." he begins, gruffly. "Given our current positions, it wouldn't be proper to ask how much." But, let it be known, the thought crossed his mind. No further comment made, just that half-smirk that dimples his cheek, and he rubs a hand over his stubbled face - followed by a stretch. The hour's growing later, but it's still with attentiveness that he replies to L'sha, interest in his deep tones. "How old was this G'laer, then?" he asks. "Give me some hope. I'm twenty-four myself, got damn tired of waiting around. If it doesn't work out, I'm done with it, going after journeymanship." One of L'sha's eyebrows goes way up as the other goes way down and he leans back a bit, an expression of complete incredulity. "...Oh-kayyy..." He turns back to Geviaur, grinning brilliantly at the man. "Well, when he was Searched, he said he was 25, but really he was 27!" Scandal! "He was a guard at Crom for a long time, so he's tough as nails. Not someone to mess with. I was shocked when he Impressed a green, I had him pegged for a bronze. So did he, but I think Teisyth's been a good influence on him. So I wouldn't worry too much about it. Try not to think too much about being a journeyman on the sands, though, the hatchings might pick up on that and pass you by. Your mind has to be totally focused on them." "Why, Tall Guy with Muscles, I can't imagine you have any trouble finding it for free." Jadzia smiles at him, very nearly coy except that she's not really the sort to pull that off very well. Now that her food is gone and she can drink uninhibited, though, she does. She even pulls out her flask to empty the rest into her mug. "I don't think dragons actually care how old you are. Though I guess if they die when you do, it's better for them to pick younger. And he's not that tough. Just a huge, huge, asshole." "I don't," Geviaur agrees readily, smirk in place. "Doesn't mean the kind that costs isn't ever worth it. I begin to suspect, however, that you're just toying with me." Whatever gave her away. At L'sha's recounting of the Oldest Weyrling Ever, Gev snorts. "Guess I don't need to be worried about it, then." Not that he seems the sort to worry, but there's still a sense of gratitude when he nods at the greenrider. "Good to know, L'sha. Thanks. And I assure you, when I'm on the sands, the little beasts will have my /rapt/ attention." With that, he pushes his chair back from the table and rises, stretching to his full height and twisting to send a crackle down his back. His plate is swept up and deposited into the hands of a convenient kitchen worker passing by, and he shoots his new... friends? one last of those broad grins. "Need to go finish something up in the smithy. No rest for the wicked. Thanks for the company..." And to Jadzia, an amused look. "Look forward to seeing more of you, Istan." Better than another word he could have picked out to call her. L'sha's eyes narrow at Jadzia and he opens his mouth for a sharp retort, but closes it again with a shake of his head. Instead he smiles warmly to Geviaur as the candidate stands. "You're welcome, anytime. See you around, handsome." He ignores Jadzia and finishes his snack, feeding Azurite a few tidbits here and there. When he's done, he also stands to clear his plate away, draining the rest of his wine. "Goodnight, Jadzia," he says, a bit frostily. The other word might, admittedly, be somewhat more accurate. As Geviaur stands, Jadzia's gaze shamelessly becomes better acquainted with the view. "Don't get too hot in there, Muscles. I'll have to be sad I missed it." L'sha, for his frostiness, is ignored in kind and she only glances after the greenrider once he's on his way out. "For you, blondie, I'll repeat the performance," Geviaur promises, so selflessly, so generously, and (apparently) entirely obliviously to the chill in the greenrider's tone. His coat, which had been draped over the back of his chair, is tugged on. Jadzia given a wink, which is apparently an acceptable farewell, and Gev is heading out into the cold night to finish Whatever It Is he needs to do. There's some cheerful whistling coming from the direction of the bowl moments before a rugged up figure appears. Despite the coverage of snow outside, R'hin seems in a good mood, even if he has to pause to stamp snow off his boots at the entrance. He isn't much for waiting, which is perhaps why he arrives just as the dinner period is drawing near to a close, making several stops past the serving tables for a heaping of food and something hot to drink, before he heads for a table. He walks past Jadzia's table, initially, but something -- maybe it's the glow there -- makes him stop and look back, quizzically, paused there with plate and mug in hand. The blonde, in her possibly familiarly oversized jacket, has an empty, but used plate in front of her, and a mug in her hands. She watches Geviaur leave like it's a very interesting thing to do, so it's not until R'hin stops nearby and pauses to look at her that her gaze is drawn to him. She opens her mouth, not to say anything nice, but when that flicker of recognition passes over her expressions, her mouth closes again and all Jadzia does is arch a brow at him. He, of course, recognizes that recognition, and it's the confirmation R'hin needs to turn back, and settle in the seat next to Jadzia's like they're old friends. "Fancy," the word is drawled with a considerable amount of amusement in both voice and pale eyes, "Seeing you here." However she feels about being joined by this man she doesn't really know, Jadzia only shifts slightly away from him so she can tilt herself just that much more in his direction. Friendly-like. Or untrusting-like. Take your pick. "Surprise, surprise. I'm full of them." "Tired of hiding out in Crom's stables? Time to stake a claim on High Reaches', too?" R'hin inquires, with a lift of brow. Pale gaze takes in that motion, he himself casual in the way he begins eating while waiting for her answer, and yet despite the food she assuredly has his interest. "And here I had you pegged for the type to never leave the comfort of your... tables." A snort, mostly self-directed, "Surprises." "I was never hiding. I was drinking." Which reminds her to take a drink from her entirely more inconspicuous mug. Rather than from the flask that's no doubt hidden in her jacket. Jadzia looks toward the fading glow rather than at the man sitting next to her now. "Don't tell me you think I ought to go back to all that comfort. Maybe I want to promise girls I'll show them all of Pern, too." The dark chuckle from R'hin that answers that statement suggests he thinks otherwise. "I was hiding," he admits, with a lift-and-drop of shoulder in one motion. "Nothing to be embarrassed about. Though the runners aren't very entertaining drinking friends." With a quick shake of his head, the rider says fairly definitively, "Oh, no. I certainly think you can provide yourself a better future away from Crom. Though," he eyes her, sidelong, pale eyes glinting, "If you're going to be competition...?" "I feel like that's something you have to tell yourself more often than most people," says Jadzia about this being embarrassed thing. Evidently, she was never embarrassed by the situation. Just interrupted. "A better future," is repeated with a soft snort. "We'll see about that. Not sure I'll be able to stay here after all this... stuff." Which prompts her to look at R'hin again, a little more interested now that something's come to her, "Say, you wouldn't mind taking me to another Weyr once they've all hatched, would you? Less competition. Win-win." Presumably she means if she fails to Impress, not when. "Oh, no," the bronzerider chortles, in between bites. "I'm rarely embarrassed about what I do. I find owning up to one's foibles a better course of action." R'hin takes a gulp from his mug, exhaling briefly, before the girl's words draw his speculative pale gaze. "This... stuff," he echoes, with a hint of amusement. "Do you know what you've gotten yourself into?" he wonders, a seemingly genuine question. "Mm. Depends what you mean by less competition. What is your fancy, though? Somewhere with warm beaches, like Ista or Southern? Somewhere bound by tradition like Fort or Benden?" He hasn't said yes, but then he hasn't said no, either. For a moment she looks like she might say something more about embarrassment, but instead Jadzia takes another drink and says instead, "A lot of chores, that's what. Though some of the girls will trade me for stupid things like laundry so I can go to the stables." Definitely no surprises there. "I'd say I'd ask all the boys, but I'm not sure they'd be as interested in all of Pern as they were in me taking my clothes off." Not that she makes that sound like she'd mind terribly. "I've never been to Southern, but I've heard nice things. I'd like Ista, too, I think. Definitely not Fort. Or Telgar. Possibly Benden. I'm not sure about Igen." She's given this some thought, evidently. There's a patient sort of humor in R'hin's voice, "Well, I wouldn't much object to that either," her taking her clothes off, apparently, "But you would freeze pretty quickly here, I imagine." Taking a fork full of food, he listens to her speculate about where to go, but doesn't comment on it himself, strangely. instead, abruptly: "Do you have leathers, flying gear?" A beat later, the bronzerider grimaces almost immediately. "Of course you wouldn't. Giorda or one of the assistants will have some in stores. Go fetch a set that fits you as well as you're able." He seems to mean now, though the immediacy of the request is at odds with the casual way in which he takes another bite of food. There's a wry twist of her lips for his first comment, but the rest has it turning into something more like an uncertain frown. "I didn't mean I wanted to leave now," she points out in case she hadn't been very clear on that before. But Jadzia is sitting up a little more straight now, finishing off whatever's in her mug to set that down and look at the man with furrowed brows. "Of course not." R'hin's amused, lips quirking. "But don't you want to find out what all this stuff is about? Or at least a little bit more than what the harper's lessons will tell you." Wait, was that him hanging around the back of that harper lesson the other day? Her eyes narrow a little more, peering at him thoughtfully. Like she's not entirely sure she wants to do anything he tells her to do, maybe. "I suppose. But I don't know why you'd want to show me any of it." Right, no throwing trust around here. But she's clearly interested. She either can't hide that fact or she just doesn't want to. Why? "Because I'm a nice guy," but even R'hin can't say that with a straight face; it devolves into a dark chuckle, as he sets aside his fork, leaning back to regard Jadzia. "Let's just say instead -- there were certain things I wish I'd known about, before I stood on the sands here. You seem like a smart girl -- I like to let smart people make up their own minds, with all the facts to hand." Will she, won't she? He doesn't seem much fussed either way, lifting his mug to lips while she decides. She could just ask 'what things?' and be done with it, maybe. But Jadzia is still interested enough by the idea of whatever he might show her that she doesn't. So it's, "Fine," that she says instead, still staring at him for another handful of moments before she actually starts to rise out of her seat, reaching for the glow as she moves. He's too well trained to show satisfaction; instead, R'hin merely nods. "Bring that back with you, too," he says, with a vague gesture towards the glow, before he picks up his fork again. Apparently he intends to finish his meal while he waits for Jadzia to return. Jadzia eyes the glow she's supposed to bring back with her as she makes her way toward the kitchen. Maybe she should have brought her plate with her instead of her mug, but someone will surely clear that away. Since the stores aren't that far away and leathers are pretty easy to find, it's not too long before Jadzia returns, looking like a second-hand rider. A slightly awkward one at that, especially with a glow still held in one hand. By the time she returns, the caverns are looking a lot emptier, many weyrfolk seeking more cozy places to wile away the remainder of the evening. R'hin, though -- apparently having finished his meal -- is standing near the caverns exit, slowly buttoning up his jacket, pale gaze unerringly finding Jadzia as she walks back. "Good," he says, approvingly -- of the leathers, the glow, or her, he isn't particularly specific about. Wordlessly, now, he turns and leads the way outside, the snow crunching underfoot and the cold air stinging after the warmth of the caverns. The bronzerider looks to be leading them towards a dark shape, the bulk of the dragon marked by a pair of glowing eyes. Jadzia follows R'hin out into the bowl, pulling up her hood before tugging at the sleeve of the jacket. Things feel a little weird. But she doesn't complain out loud. "I wasn't really planning on a field trip tonight," she points out all the same, glancing back toward the caverns. "How many other smart people have you dragged off into the night so far?" Of the candidates, presumably. "You're the only one," R'hin says, with a knowing look over his shoulder. Of course, he could be lying, but he seems genuine enough, for all that the question seems to please him. "If you wanted boring," he adds, "You'd have stayed in Crom's stables." If it weren't for Leiventh's eyes being open, one might suspect the bronze of being asleep, for how still he is. With Turns of practice, the rider's ascent up onto his dragon's neckridges is adept enough, and he leans to offer a hand if needed for her to follow suit. Even if she doesn't seem sure whether or not to believe him, Jadzia doesn't press further. There are dragons to scale, after all, and this one's bigger than the ones she's usually ferried around on. And certainly bigger than, and different from, the runners she's more used to mounting. R'hin's hand is glanced at for a moment, then accepted to help her up without embarrassing herself. "So this won't be boring. Got it." There's a little grin from R'hin, as he twists to make sure she's securely strapped in; he doesn't bother with his own in the moments before Leiventh's muscles bunch underneath them and he pushes skywards. The evening, winter air is frigid as they rise up, though between by contrast is colder, even if they're in it for what feels like less than the normal three heartbeats. It's dark below, and yet the angular bronze descends with unerring confidence, aided no doubt by glimmering eyes. They can feel, more than see, the landing, though the glow Jadzia has throws illumination and shadow both against the rock walls that rise up next to where Leiventh lands. R'hin is quick to descend, watching to see if Jadzia needs assistance but not offering help unless it looks like she needs it. The cold, both in the air and in between, is familiar enough to not bother Jadzia anymore than it usually might. The darkness, except where her not especially bright glow casts interesting shadows, should probably make her more hesitant. But it doesn't seem to. She glances skywards as though to try to get her bearings, but in the next moment she's making her way down. Without help, thank you very much, though it's a little awkward with the glow she hasn't put away. "So where'd you take me? All the way to the outer rim?" Staying at the Weyr would certainly account for the short trip. R'hin grins at her at that question -- that sort of grin that's probably becoming all-too-familiar from the bronzerider, knowing and yet enigmatic. "Hold that up a bit," he directs, with a nod towards the glow, before he begins to lead the way along the wall, one hand outstretched against it for guidance. After all that build up, it's fairly anticlimactic, all told, the short walk leading them along until, abruptly, a section of the stone wall juts out abruptly in front of them, halting their path. It's an oddly shaped protrusion, thinner than most of the rocky edges and not at all natural looking. The bronzerider stops, like this is where they're meant to be, murmuring, "Harpers often like to pride themselves on truthfulness, yet what good is an inspiring tale that tells of the joy yet is overridden by the horror?" The glow is lifted up as Jadzia follows along after R'hin, trying to see where he's going as much as where she's going with one hand against the wall. But he's kind of bigger than her and not the easiest thing to see around. So it's not until he stops that she shifts around to get a better look. She's not really sure what she's looking at, judging by her expression as she uses the glow to light the protrusion. But his words don't exactly leave a ton of room for wild imagination. With the glow still held up to see, she glances back at R'hin with a frown. Her glow casts as much shadow as it does light; if this were daytime it would be immediately apparent, and yet it is only as eyes adjust, as she shifts to get a better look that odd protrusion is identifiable as a dragon's outstretched wing, encased in stone. Above that, against the rock wall, the side profile of the dragon's rider can be seen, hunched over his dragon, though the nature of stone doesn't convey more than the overall sense of the posture rather than any emotional detail. Her glance shows that R'hin watching her looking at it, silently observing her reaction. Her reaction is subdued in a way that might seem just a little uncharacteristic for the woman. Jadzia turns back to the rock and takes it all in in silence for several minutes. She doesn't turn back when she finally asks, "I thought you said it would be better for me at the Weyr. Instead of Crom. Why would you show me this if you aren't trying to dissuade me from Standing?" Which is to ask, is he trying to dissuade her? Is he, indeed? Pale eyes are unreadable in what light's available, as R'hin says, "I said it would be better, I didn't say it would be better to be a rider." A beat. "You haven't thread to deal with, and yet the world of a rider isn't all sunshine, roses and harper's tales. You can ask five dozen riders and they will give you the good parts, the joyful parts. Yet for those there are many more bad. Between, every time, is dangerous." He extends a finger. "Weyrlinghood is long and exhausting and very much more than occasionally, demoralizing," another finger is extended, "If you are someone who struggles to trust," and the bronzerider's gaze is knowing again, "You will struggle with the bond. There is love, certainly, but love does not mean easy, and a dragon isn't a pet to be commanded." A third finger is held up. "Weyrs are traditionalist, and the roles of a rider are very... limited. Even in an interval." A fourth. "Oh, and, jerk wingmates who can't be avoided," he snorts briefly, even as he extends his thumb. The amusement fades by measures, though, his expression sobering as he leans a shoulder against the rock wall, lifting his head to stare at the stone-encased rider for a three heartbeats, by no coincidence. "That is to say, you seem like a smart girl. My intention isn't to dissuade you, but make sure you have the information to make a decision yourself." He straightens, taking a step towards her, his height allowing him to gaze down at her. "Impression cannot be reversed, so you have to be certain this is what you want." Jadzia's expression, too, is unreadable for a time. She listens, of course, attentive as usual, hearing the bronzerider out without interrupting, though her gaze studies the encased dragon pair. Finally, "I'm not worried about weyrlinghood. It can't be that much worse than training." It doesn't seem to be the runners she's talking about, though. "Love is never easy." At least not in her experience. She's glancing back at him again as he looks at the stone. "I asked for this. I'm not just here because some dragon thought I seemed okay." And maybe she didn't have all these less good things to think about, but it was her decision. "What would I do at the Weyr that would be any better than what I was doing at Crom if not hope a dragon decides I'm worth Impressing?" R'hin's gaze is mostly even, with a twitch or two of lips, before he nods at her indication that she asked for it. However, it's the latter question that interests him the most, and it's the only one he focuses on: "It's not the dragon that makes you worthwhile. It's what you decide to do. If you could -- be anyone, do anything, what would you do?" For some reason that question seems to light a small fire in Jadzia's temper. She looks from stone rider to bronzerider and she sounds agitated as she says, but manages not to yell, "I would have been the guard I'd been training to be since I was sharding twelve turns old instead of getting kicked out because of some asshole that thought he knew better than anyone else what I wanted." The sudden bout of temper makes R'hin rock back on his heels a moment, pale eyes still considering. "There are plenty of uses for a guard's skills, outside of being a guard," he says, with a little smile. "I Impressed with a woman who had been a guard, before. She was a guard before, and she was a guard after -- you don't give that away, whether or not you have a dragon attached." "I wasn't ever a guard," Jadzia practically growls, glancing at the hunched over rider in the stone one more time before she's turning to start finding her way back to where they'd left the bronze like she's apparently ready for him to take her home. Maybe even Crom home! "Just because no one ever called you a guard, does not mean you are not one," R'hin says, calm in contrast to her growl. He paces her as she heads for Leiventh, a bare step behind her. "It doesn't matter. All I am now is a beast trainer." She probably hasn't forgotten that she's a candidate, but it could just be that Jadzia is second guessing that particular title right now. "Just take me back, okay?" That might be as much for the dragon as for the rider. The noise that comes from the bronzerider's throat is disagreement, yet it's not given voice. "To High Reaches Weyr?" R'hin asks instead, as if he thinks that clarification necessary. He's just as quick to climb up, waiting for Jadzia to join him, offering a hand if she looks like she needs it, watching closely if not. "Yes." That's all the answer she gives about where she wants to go. Her things are there, anyway, so if she wanted to go back to Crom, she'd still have to go to the Weyr first. This time Jadzia doesn't accept any help from the bronzerider, pocketing the glow before she's up and strapping herself in, if only so he won't do it for her. This, too, seems to amuse R'hin, if the low-throated chuckle is any indication. When he's satisfied with her work with the straps, there's some silent signal, as seconds later Leiventh is aloft. Cold night air is broken by the freezing of between, and the return of more cold air as the angular bronze spirals back into the bowl, landing in the snow next to the entrance to the caverns. The rider twists to watch her, but seems convinced that Jadzia doesn't need any more help, silent. She's probably glad, at least, that it's a short trip. Once Leiventh is landed, Jadzia is unstrapping herself and getting down without a word to R'hin. She doesn't even turn to say bye or thanks or get lost between. She just heads straight for the caverns, already starting to pull off the outer layer of the borrowed leathers. And, likewise, without a farewell, the bronze pair departs, the sweep of the dragon's wings stirring the snow in his wake as he disappears into the dark skies. |
Comments
Alida on 18:18, 8 July 2014 said...
*giggle-snickers* Well, whaddaya know? Both K'zin AND G'laer are utter assholes! :D
Leave A Comment