Logs:Not Saying Yes
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| RL Date: 6 August, 2016 |
| Who: Alysce, T'zur |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Alysce is not saying yes to Search. |
| Where: Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 25, Month 6, Turn 41 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Warm sunshine and cloudless skies make for a beautiful day and pleasantly warm evening. A breeze tempers the heat with no humidity lingering in the air. |
| Mentions: Quint/Mentions |
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The rest of the bowl may be barren, grass barely surviving at best, but
here by the lake, it's brilliantly green in the warmer months: thickening
and thriving in the silty, boulder-dotted soil just before it transitions
to soft sand and thence to the cool, clear water itself.
A large freshwater lake fed by a low waterfall, it not only provides
warm-weather bathing space for humans and dragons, but has one end fenced
off as a watering hole for the livestock in the feeding grounds. The water
there is often muddier than the rest of the clear lake, whose shallows
drop off abruptly several yards out into deep water, and whose edge
undulates against the coarse-hewn bowl wall: here close enough to just be
bramble-covered rocks, there far enough away that a narrow land bridge
divides the main lake from a smallish pond. Between are several rocky
outcroppings that form excellent makeshift diving points, though only one
-- across the bridge -- has a set of narrow, slippery, quite possibly
tempting stairs.
Warm sunshine and cloudless skies make for a beautiful day and pleasantly
warm evening. A breeze tempers the heat with no humidity lingering in the
air. It is a perfect day. The sun, the breeze; there's even the sound of laughter carried from further on the shore, where two weyrbrats play in the water. There's the perfect balance between a crowd and busy, enough going on to be entertaining without feeling like everyone is bumping together. Alysce even has enough of her own beach to spread out a towel without anyone in too close of a range and she lies shamelessly in a red bathing suit, under the tempered heat of the sun, with her discarded clothes bundled up into a pillow under her head. She's watching, currently, a brownrider, needlessly shirtless but who's complaining, washing his dragon in the lake a bit off. It's sunny indeed, and the brightness gives even Tziveth's near-black shade a bronze glow as he circles above the lake and lands on the shoreline. Perhaps it's coincidence that he lands near Alysce, or perhaps it's just that she's picked a spot where no one else is, and thus perfect for landing. High atop, T'zur's muttering to himself -- or maybe to his dragon -- sliding down and hitting the ground neatly before reaching to undo the straps, still dressed in all his flight gear. He takes a couple of steps back, and the bronze takes off, shedding sand in his wake as he circles up... and up, and up. "Faranth, Tz. I thought you wanted the lake?" there's a furrow of brow creasing T'zur's expression as he tugs off his goggles, head tipped back to watch the bronze rise. Alysce's gaze pulls away from the lake to follow Tziveth; she's never seen him before and a bronze so dark-- It seems to surprise her, her brows drawing slightly together as she watches the dragon land nearby. She may be even more surprised when T'zur dismounts, but the emotion is wiped quickly away by annoyance as the bronze's departure spreads sand over her and her blanket. "Oh for fuck's sake," she curses sharply, all of her carefully careless repose ruined as she sits up to start brushing at the sand. "Did he have to do that?" The last is shot accusingly as her first words to his rider. T'zur must be sweating up a storm, with flight jacket still buttoned up and sun, relentless as ever. And yet when Alysce's voice turns his attention that way, he forgets all about such mundanities. "Oh," he says, in that same tone one might say, it's you, of an unwelcome visitor. Nevermind that his gaze flickers over her for a moment, it's soon followed by a baffled, "What are you even talking about?" Above, Tziveth is but a speck in the bright sky, all but invisible. "He got sand every where," Alysce answers, the hint of annoyance in her words only growing sharper at T'zur's tone, as she swipes some off her blanket pointedly. "That was your dragon, I'm assuming. You know, he's like-- barely bronze." Her gaze lifts to try to find Tziveth again, briefly, before it returns to T'zur to linger there as he sweats. "Well, you should know to move back when a dragon takes off," T'zur says, immediately leaping to the conclusion that she came closer and put her stuff down and lay down in the wrong spot. The thread of defensiveness of his dragon is audible in his voice, and in the way he crosses arms across his chest. "And you're barely even a girl, let alone a woman, but you don't see me go around pointing it out." Except for right now, when he uncrosses arms to gesture towards her mid-section, like there's something lacking. "I was here first," Alysce counters immediately, dryly. Except then she adjusts the strap of her swim suit self-consciously, as he gestures, only shooting him a narrowed glare briefly before she challenges, "Oh, so I'm not your type now, am I? Because I've never had complaints before." There's a hint of satisfaction in the bronzerider's pale blue eyes, before he shifts helmet and goggles to his left hand and starts pulling open his jacket. The latter earns a roll of T'zur's eyes, this time not rising to the bait, perhaps because he's sweating now, and divesting himself of his jacket has a greater priority. Alysce's lips twitch briefly into a frown as he fails to rise to the bait, as he disengages. As he remains silent, though, she only huffs a sound that might be like a laugh before she adds, "Whatever. I hope you and your dragon are proud of yourselves." With that, she throws herself back on the blanket, reaching to readjust her pillowed clothes then closing her eyes as if she's no longer paying attention. Perhaps he's not -- at least, the sudden grimace that passes across T'zur's expression might suggest otherwise. Finally free of his jacket, he hooks a finger into the collar, glancing at Alysce when she falls silent. After a moment, he steps closer, standing so that his shadow falls across most of her, and across her face, casting his expression into shadow, too, almost but not quite obscuring the sharp-eyed look he gives her. "You don't understand, because you're not a rider. It can't be explained." One of Alysce's dark eyes peels open to look up at T'zur as he casts that shadow over her, only joined by the other after a second. She studies him for a long moment before speaking, and when she does, it's only a quiet rather than reactionary, "I don't understand what?" T'zur's silent a moment, regarding her with that sharp expression, before he says, "Pride." His lips twitch; as he does there's another shadow that passes over, far distant, too far to see the near-black hide of the dragon. "Pride comes from love, but you only love yourself." The rider doesn't wait for those words to land, before he lobs more at her: "He thinks you should stand for Aidavanth and Akluseth's clutch. It's very possible he's merely reacting to your reaction, but I suppose you'll never know until after the eggs hatch, either way." He, presumably, being the shadow high above. "I love people, other than myself," is Alysce's response, his other words ignored for a moment as the apprentice moves to sit up, to ease some of the height difference between them perhaps or the way he's able to loom over her. But then she continues, building on, "I love my Journeyman. Most of the time. And if I stand-- Well, that's over then, isn't it?" She pauses, her gaze flicking over his shadowed face and then shifting to sweep over the skies briefly. "Or this is over and I leave the Weyr. So, you don't understand, either, because you're not a crafter." It's hard to tell whether the sudden smile of T'zur's is in response to her assertion that she loves other people, or because she sits up. He eases his position slightly, shifting so that he still obscures the sun from her, leaving him framed by it. The bronzerider gives a considerably unhelpful shrug as to her guess whether accepting would mean it was over or not. "I'm not a crafter," he agrees on that much. He's deliberately neither encouraging nor discouraging, just watching her keenly as she muses aloud. "So, I don't need your dragon messing with me because I pointed out that he's barely a bronze," Alysce replies to his unhelpfulness, her fingers brushing down bare legs and wiping at invisible sand that clings there. "You know, I didn't even say he was ugly. He's a pretty dragon, just not even bronze. It's weird." Her gaze slides up to T'zur again even as her shoulder shrugs up carelessly. "Dragons don't take offense to the prattlings of inelegant non riders who can't comprehend," T'zur explains, like this is some well-known fact. And then he grins, abruptly: "And neither do they hold grudges," with the grin turning into somewhat of a smirk. "No mind to me if you refuse because you're too dumb to see what's offered," he says, as he stretches out a hand towards her. Alysce exhales a breath that is only partly a laugh, even as she tells him, "Hey fuck you, I am very elegant. I'm a harper." Dark eyes sweep over the hand briefly, and it takes a moment, but she does slide her hand into his. "They don't take hold grudges but you do, is what you mean?" The upward jerk of T'zur's brows suggests that he's not very convinced on the topic of her elegance. "Take it however you may, harper. Or should I say candidate?" he amends, as she takes his hand. With a slight shift of his weight, he uses the hand to try and pull her to her feet. "We ought to get you a knot and onto the Headwoman's list. I imagine she'll allow you to continue your crafter's duties, if you wish." The grin that follows, this time, is lopsided, but somehow amused all the same. Alysce is light and easy to pull, and it helps that she doesn't fight against being pulled to her feet. But once there, she does start to yank her hand away with a quick frown, "Wait, hey. Hold on. I never said yes. I--." A pause, before she is suggesting lightly, "Let's go back to your weyr, instead?" T'zur doesn't seem set on keeping hold of her, and when she pulls away, he releases his grip. His brows go upwards, "No?" His head tilts as his gaze travels over her body for a moment, with a slight, growing smile. "I would say that I'm not that type of bronzerider, but I am," he snaps his fingers together for a moment. "But, you're not really my type, candidate." There's a brief narrowing of Alysce's dark eyes, even as she flicks black hair over one shoulder before leaning over to start folding up her blanket and gathering her things. "Now should I go sulk and insist we can't be friends?" counters the apprentice-- candidate back. But when she straightens with her things, her gaze only drags over T'zur without any more fight. She adds: "I'll find my own knot. I have to go tell someone first." "Your farewell," T'zur allows, with a gesture towards the bowl. He tugs free hand through mostly-sweaty hair, grinning abruptly: "If you don't Impress, maybe we can rethink the whole weyr thing." But, presumably, not the friends thing. "You can rethink it; that was a one time offer," will have to do as a 'good bye', as Alysce turns on a heel to start back in the direction of his gesture. She doesn't even stop to drag back on her clothes, in a bit of a hurry. There's a snort that might be amusement or something else, but T'zur lets her have the last word. Perhaps it's coincidence that a sky-high shadow trails her for most of the way back towards the Weyr, at least while she's outside. |
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