Logs:Not Too Far Gone
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| RL Date: 27 February, 2013 |
| Who: Azaylia, Alida |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Alida finds Azaylia and apologizes for fighting in the galleries and upsetting the queens. |
| Where: Hatching Galleries, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 7, Month 2, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Brieli/Mentions |
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| Hatching Galleries, High Reaches Weyr Ringing the southwestern side of the hatching sands are ample tiers of carved stone benches, the lowest of which is some six feet off the ground -- just high enough to separate wayward hatchlings from unwary viewers, and vice versa. A metal railing on the outside helps prevent anyone from falling off; it also extends up the stairs that lead the way higher into the galleries. While most of the area is open seating, ropes section off some of the closer tiers when dignitaries are expected; those areas even feature cushions in the Weyr's blue and black. The higher one climbs, the more apparent the immense scale of the entire cavern becomes. The dragon-sized entrance on the ground is dwarfed by the expansive golden sands that glitter in the light. Everything on them is easily visible from the galleries, whether that's a clutch of eggs and a broody queen, or simply its emptiness and the handful of darker tunnels that lead to more private areas than the bowl. Wherever one sits or looks, however, one thing is constant: the overwhelming, suffocating heat. Azaylia is often gracious in most things, so it might strike even a newcomer as odd when the weyrwoman doesn't accept Alida's apology. There's nothing spiteful in her quiet words, expression just soft as she regards the candidate. "I'm not the one you upset." An explanation which has the goldrider taking the lead through foggy bowl towards the galleries, and where once-riled dam resides. Iesaryth is given a soft nod in greeting, but Azaylia is here for one reason in particular. Even with her rider standing at the edge of the sand, Hraedhyth gives a sudden LURCH at the sight of Alida, tense muscles rippling beneath tawny hide. Hraedhyth's drums leap as muscles tense, louder as remnants of fury force bone clubs harder against taut skins. « SHE DARES. » There is no accusation for Azaylia, increasingly ruby focus aimed directly at the guilty one. She's reluctantly following Azaylia back into the Galleries, Alida already knowing what's to come...and dreading it in a way. Dragons aren't supposed to be capable of hurting humans on purpose... but when one's already riled up and perhaps not thinking straight... It's with both trepidation and chagrin that the candidate steps into position - her back ramrod straight, form erect - beside and one step behind Azaylia to face-off with Hraedhyth...the palest-blonde unable to contain a noticable flinch when the irate gold *lurches* at her like that. Perhaps oddly, the guard does not even bother trying to reach for her knife...though her face manages to go even paler than normal. Azaylia is here. « Alida. » Candidate. Whiteblonde. She who dares. « Has something to say. » Her easy calm aims not to soothe, allowing the queen her righteous anger without argument. You know I wouldn't let her near the eggs if she was a threat. Protective. A flicker that is not of Hraedhyth's fire, but may as well be. Hraedhyth knows. Trusts. Drums thunder on as she allows cool calm to coexist with fiery rage, mingling for an impatient storm. Well?! It's a tremor that is felt more than heard, save for the sudden snarl aimed at the blonde one. Hraedhyth doesn't rise, though she shifts as if the urge is there. Clubbed wings are at half mast, pale crown thrown this way and that as she snarls her displeasure, predator's gaze never leaving the candidate. Azaylia will urge Alida towards the rail, as close to the sands as they can get from the galleries. Perhaps, as close as the queen will allow. "Well?" Comes the gentle prompt, brown eyes settling on the other young woman's somewhat pale face. The goldrider's hands are folded patiently in front of her, not quite at ease but not looking all that worried. Then again, she's not the source of the gold's ire. It seems as if Alida's taking her time in doing this, the normally bold and sure femme now hesitant in the face of a dragon's wrath. One boot step, then another follow as Azaylia prompts her to move closer, the clearly hesitant young woman finally pulling up right before the railing and looking not at Hraedhyth's multifaceted eyes, but at those dagger teeth in her mouth...the business end. It's both a horrifying and a strangely enamoring sight, the primitive lizard brain within the guard wanting to instantly get the hell out of Dodge, while her trained forebrain urges her more militaristic set of mind to analyze and enjoy those perfect killing weapons. It's only when that 'well' comes from the more human half of this equation that the blonde starts a little from her intense stare, and finally has the guts to look the irate mother in her eyes...and offer her a deep bow that almost seems to collapse the post-teen upon herself for long moments. It's so deep that her braid hits the stony floor of the Gallery before Alida slowly ascends once again, then offering the queen on Sands below a near-perfect salute. "I deeply apologize for my misconduct, Hraedhyth. It was deplorable. I beg your forgiveness...and if you cannot give it, your tolerance." Hraedhyth is not so easily appeased. Though drums do slow, there's a sooty snort for the candidate's bow and apology. « She is sorry now. » Most of the time it is better to ask for forgiveness, but not when dealing with a dam such as she. With a snap of savage jaws, « Why. » Hraedhyth's sudden snarl bounces off the scarcely populated cave-- typical when she is awake, and even more so when she's so obviously agitated. She's impatient, visibly trembling with restraint as the candidate admires those oversized, wicked jaws. Alida is welcome to a closer look as the gold's stocky neck swings her head closer, muzzle peeled back in a snarl. Azaylia doesn't flinch, and there might be a soft sigh the leaves her, drowned out by the dragon's constant rumble. At the bow, those growls might quiet some though they don't lose their ferocity. There's a tense moment until, "She wants to know why." A simple question, perhaps due to the creature asking it or it could be left open by design. Azaylia is not as unsympathetic. « We are allowed to get angry. Everyone is, from time to time. » There is no excuse made for the insult to hatching sanctuary, leaving her gentle perspective to either be taken or singed away. Green eyes fixed upon draconic reds, Alida can do nothing but stands there stiffly and watch how the queen snarls, growls, and trembles at the self-restraint (or is it Azaylia's?) the dragon applies to herself...the young woman fighting herself to not to switch her gaze from huge eyes to huge teeth. A small swallow presages the weyrwoman's words of the whys of things, and soon enough 'lida is flicking her gaze over to the other woman for a long moment, then hesitantly returning it to the gold. A quick lick of lips by a dart of tongue wets them warily before the guard responds in husky alto tones, "Why did it happen? I...I come...came here for some tranquility. A place where there were few 'r no humans. To just...watch you 'n Iesaryth be yer'selves...tend your eggs." Dragons are so much less complicated and irritating than humans. The guard's tone is almost asking for a hint of understanding, even as it acknowledges it likely deserves none, her green eyes touched with emotion rarely ever seen within them. Pain is one, guilt is another. "When the other candidate...intruded on me, refused to go away after I showed him I was in no mood... I lost my temper." Swallow. "I didn't wanna' ever disturb either uv' you..." A significant look is offered to the other queen, along with a deep dip of the blonde's head, "...but I didn't know you could really see 'r *feel* us." Hraedhyth doesn't, can't, relax. She has not felt at ease since clutching the precious eggs she now guards with her life. There is some understanding now, but forgiveness does not come so easily, mere wisps dissipating above savage flames. « She turns on those within her own pack. » The white knotted tribe. « She is a threat. I will not risk pups on one who knows no loyalty. » Her and Szadath's, Iesaryth's and Arekoth's, they deserve only the best. Though the answer may be for Hraedhyth, Azaylia is listening as well. There's a moment where she might look troubled, brow smoothing all too quickly. She's nowhere near as captivating as those drool-slick jaws or whorling red eyes. Hraedhyth snaps at the air all too suddenly, revealing how a few of those stained fangs are too large to be completely sheathed behind her muzzle. She doesn't retreat, but dismisses the candidate all together in order to fuss over the eggs, as if the entire ordeal has disturbed them. "Mm." The weyrwoman doesn't look terribly relieved, reaching over to give Alida a soft touch to her shoulder. "You can't fight your fellow candidates like that. What if you impress? Would you fight with the other weyrlings?" With a faint purse of her lips, "We won't risk one of ours on someone who might lead them astray." Sentiment may be shared, but the words are not entirely her own. Yeah... those jaws and teeth are pretty damned fearsome and entrancing in their own right, and Alida is all somewhat widened eyes for them until the gold snaps at the air...the motion making the candidate actually jump in place just a bit. A small but quick suck of breath leaves the guard slowly letting it out in definite relief when Hraedhyth dismisses her, 'lida snapping another picture-perfect salute to the mother dragon before she turns away to stare with slightly wide and troubled eyes at Azaylia, a parade-rest stance taken automatically in her superior's presence. Listening as only someone who's in deep shit can, the young woman's lips twitch at one corner in response, then fall still until the other femme has finished. "I...I don't think I *will*, truth tell..." the palest-blonde murmurs low, then shaking her braided head and re-toughening her mental stance once again. "I promise you that I won't instigate a fight, or anything like a fight again while I'm Standing." It's clear that the post-teen is starting to understand just how deeply even one person's behavior can influence dragons, much less people at the Weyr. Her words have the sound of an oath. Azaylia is not here to argue, no. Her calm, deceptively delicate resolve doesn't waver at the candidate's promise. She will, however, offer it up to her lifemate as if it could be missed. « Her word might be worth something? » The doubt is not there for her sake, but for Hraedhyth's. The choice is hers. Hraedhyth is intrigued enough to inspect the offender's oath, sudden smokey inhale making an attempt to scent out any deception. Her steady rhythm settles into something slow, pensive. Then, « If she deals in only truth. » As they do. « Then she is not too far gone. » Distracted by her and Iesaryth's brood, the scrap she tosses the unaware candidate is close to dismissive. Azaylia's hand retreats once she has the candidate's attention, dropping back down to fold in front of her skirts. "A lot of people don't. I didn't." She reveals, brown gaze shifting towards the tawny gold who seems far more interested in the eggs. Hraedhyth still may be listening, however. The somewhat demure weyrwoman straightens some at Alida's oath, gaze finding hers with an intensity that may come unexpected. "You promise." Not a question. "Hraedhyth only accepts the absolute truth. If you make a promise, you need to mean it." Quiet insistence to go along with the light behind her eyes, dimmed some as she notes, "Hraedhyth will let you on the sands if you can keep your word. Have you spoken with," A breath that isn't meant to hitch, "Weyrwoman Brieli?" "My word, my promise, is an oath, weyrwoman...Hraedhyth," Alida intones with all solemnity, her clear greens affixing to once-gentle browns, then swinging over to try and locate the dragon for a moment. Back to the human partner they finally swing again, the the guard intoning with all respect. "I would die before breaking my given word." Another absolute offered...no fear or hesitation marring those clear, crisp words...the guard's likewise gaze. As for Brieli... "Yes ma'am. I went to her first, then I tried to find you...but you were busy." Nothing of that former meeting can be glimpsed upon the blonde's features or in her eyes, but given the temperament of the other weyrwoman, it was likely a ripe slice of hell. Hraedhyth is no longer bothering with, or bothered by, the candidate. Crimson throbs only at the edge of her vision, a familiar sight when the gold is conscious and keeping vigilant. Now, she's inspecting the eggs closely, quite possibly carrying on with unformed minds who might be listening. Azaylia visibly softens, "Hraedhyth appreciates it." Though the weyrwoman is not calling for anything so drastic. "I've seen some of the other candidates. You might want to try to get along. If you can't, I'm not asking you to change who you are. But dragonriders, the whole Weyr, we need to work together Like a team." There's a rumble from the sands. "A... pack." She repeats with a faint, fond curl to her lips. She dips her head, "Thank you for apologizing." Well, *that's* a relief, and Alida gives small vent to such an inner feeling with a soft, long exhale of a breath she didn't even know she'd been holding. "My parents...taught me long ago to honor dragons like I'd honor my work, myself." Them. The faintest inkling of a hitch enters the blonde's voice for a moment at the word 'parents,' leaves on her next utterance. A small bob of plaited head is given to the goldrider at her admonishments, the young woman's lips finally curling into a quiet bit of an almost-smile when it appears that Hraedhyth was the origin of that 'pack.' "Only dragons and animals are pure..." the guard comments very softly, then nodding a few times to Azaylia, and giving the rider a quick and honest salute. "If people were a little more like them..." Azaylia agrees, her thought left to hang in the air between weyrwoman and candidate. With her own exhale, "If you'll excuse me?" She's tired, visibly so, and doesn't seem in much of a hurry to be off though she's aiming for the stairs. "You probably have chores to do." A reminder, not an order. She leaves the responsibility up to Alida, braving the bowl's chill as the goldrider is swallowed up by the fog. "Yess'um..." Alida raps off, once again saluting the weyrwoman, then peering just a little at her for a moment. Tired isn't good. And even as the candidate is pivoting about on a boot heel, stepping off, a faint murmur that might or might not be overheard issues from her lips onto the stifling air of the Cavern... "I think I could like you..." |
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