Logs:Of Presumptions
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| RL Date: 25 June, 2006 |
| Who: Bayan, Kalliope, R'hin, Satiet |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| Where: Eastern Bowl, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 28, Month 2, Turn 8 (Interval 10) |
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| Your location's current time: 21:35 on day 31, month 2, Turn 58, of the Tenth Pass. It is a winter evening. You walk out to the bowl. Eastern Bowl, High Reaches Weyr(#840RJs) Standing on the eastern side of the bowl, you realize why this is one of the most striking Weyrs on Pern. Arrayed around the north rim of the bowl are the Seven Spindles: high crownlike points formed of old volcano flows which were eroded to sharp spikes. The bowl itself is a rough ovoid shape, with a large lake taking up a good portion of the southeastern part. The bowl seems to slant down to the lake shore, and the soil becomes a little looser in that direction. From the east, the slight aroma of herdbeast and wherry hide rises from the feeding grounds. The northeast section of the bowl is full of activity: training of dragons both young and old goes on in a large clearing near the entrance to the weyrling barracks and dragon infirmary. Several small boulders dot the area to the north, forming a winding path to the ledges leading into the weyrleaders' quarters. The evening is clear, not a cloud to be seen, giving you a perfect view of the stars. The smaller Belior winks as a waxing crescent while Timor is a nearly full waxing gibbous. There seems to be a light breeze and the winter air is freezing against you. Contents: Leiventh Teonath Nepenth(#4050Jaes) Obvious exits: Weyrleader Ledges Western Bowl Floor Dragon Infirmary Weyrling Barracks Weyrling Training Room Feeding Grounds Lake Shore Satiet meanders over from the western side of the bowl. Satiet has arrived. From the sky, Teonath's descent into the eastern bowl is minutes before her rider appears from across the way. The woman's stride is easy as boots crunch through frozen snow, and with the tassel of the soft-knit pink hat perched lopsidedly bobbling almost cheerfully with the bounce of her gait. Rounding near the wheat-gold, Satiet's hand lifted to reflexively brush mittened fingers against the dragon's hide, low murmurings ensue, though no specific words can be discerned. Leiventh's bulk is the first thing that can be seen coming out of the weyrling barracks, R'hin a faint shadow trailing in the bronze's wake. The scruffy-haired ex-trader's pulling on his flying jacket, a set of flying straps hooked to his belt. He sets about closing up his jacket before unhooking the straps, swinging them lightly as he joins Leiventh, stepping up onto the bronze's foreleg in order to place the straps on him. It's Leiventh that notes the gold's arrival first, a low, bassy rumble of greeting given Teonath, R'hin following his gaze towards the pair. Lips twitch a moment, before a low chuckle emanates from the weyrling. "You picked your hat to match your undergarments." It's statement, not question, deliberately filled with a mocking tone not marred by the sharp salute that follows, nor the drawled, "Ma'am." In kind, Teonath returns the greeting with a low-pitched warble, welcoming and warm where the wind is cold. Along her neck gleams well-oiled and cared for straps, a tremor from her slightly unfurled wings creating a small cloud of dislodged snow to rise from the ground. Stretching forward, the sinuous neck makes the feigned motion of draping itself over Leiventh before withdrawing and lifting her broad face to the clear night's sky and the stars above. Not giving in, at least vocally, to R'hin's mocking, there's still the tensing of Satiet's shoulders and a twitch that hesitates before curving her lips lopsidedly upwards into her own brand of 'charm.' "She'd like to fly the skies tonight-" a beat passes as the woman turns pale eyes onto Leiventh's own straps, "As does he?" "Dragons are meant to fly, are they not?" R'hin answers promptly, pale blue eyes following Teonath's greeting of Leiventh with interest, the bronze stoic as usual in his physical response, barely a shifting of wings in kind. Some of the snow stirred by Teonath's movements drift down to cling to his hair and clothing, the bronzerider running a hand through his hair. He moves around Leiventh, placing the straps on, tightening the buckles where necessary, pointedly not looking in Satiet's direction until he's done. "I hadn't thought you the sort to indulge in such... pleasures, lady of the spires." Bayan strides away from the lake shore, back to the main bowl. Bayan has arrived. Kalliope heads over from the western side of the bowl. Kalliope has arrived. The half-unfurled state of Teonath's wings widens further and lowers to drape the sands. The lopsided smirk deepens, a touch of sardonicism imprinted in the dimple along her right cheek. With care to not turn to meet R'hin's gaze, or to spare Leiventh more than that prior glance, Satiet pays more mind to the young queen's wings, capable if gloved fingers working across the lowered wings, and once satisfied, though it takes the young woman a while, she manages to turn that dry smirk back to the bronze weyrling, and while she doesn't say anything, the uplift of her brow in smug askance punctuates her point precisely: don't presume. Instead of answering his question, the weyrwoman tests her foot along one of Teonath's forelimbs to then haul herself the rest of the way up along the dragon's neckridges. "I'll lead, weyrling, you follow." R'hin's dressed in full riding leathers, though his head is left bare, hair covered by a slight dusting of snow. He's standing by Leiventh's foreleg, his attention on Satiet, not bothering to hide the fact that he's watching the young weyrwoman intently. Leiventh's largely still, as is his habit, wearing a set of riding straps. As if in answer to her smirk, a low chuckle comes from the bronze weyrling, not in the least embarrassed by the presumption, nor being called on it. "You presume that I would follow you on your whim, great lady?" a hint of mocking tone lingers in his voice, making no move away from the bronze's foreleg, though his eyes do lift to follow the goldrider's progress as she seats herself atop Teonath. Bayan walks in from the lake, looking about as though he was searching for someone in particular. Almost quick to head towards the living caverns, the familiar voice of the bronze weyrling stops him in his tracks and he turns toward it. His face brightening a bit, he jogs over to R'hin and Satiet with a wave. "Ah, R'hin! Been looking for you," he says with ease, with a nod in greeting to Satiet. Yep, must be a strange day indeed if the rogue is searching the Weyr for /this/ weyrling! Kalliope arrives in the bowl catching sight of a beautiful gold with her wings slightly stretched out. She heads in that direction finding her facinating. Quietly, not speaking to anyone just yet, she works her way over to her. Only then noticing a familiar bronze dragonling nearby. She pauses. Then, catching sight of Bayan too she shyes a bit to the side. She tries to cast a glance towards the weyrwoman, who she has yet to meet, but she doesn't have the courage just to go up and introduce herself, especially not with these two specific young men present. She hovers in the shadow of a boulder. Atop Teonath, Satiet just levels R'hin a glance, though the distance makes it hard to convey anything beyond the glitter of ice-blue eyes. "Yes, if only to satisfy your curiosity, R'hin." The interruption, Bayan's arrival, is marked by a swinging of the raven-haired woman to catch sight of the young man, though due to this, Kalliope's approach is unnoted by the rider. A gloved hand lifts to the pink-tasseled hat, a half-salute tipped towards the itinerant. "Evening," is called down coolly, the alto slicing through the air with crystal-like ease. Teonath, on the other hand, is distracted by the shadowing near a boulder and cranes her neck though when movement ceases, the dragon grows easily bored and turns back to those of more interest: Leiventh and Bayan. "I am indebted that you are so willing to satisfy my needs, lady of the spires." R'hin's words are warm in contrast to Satiet's cool glance, reaching for the gloves from his pouch. Strange day indeed. The bronzerider pauses, looking almost caught off guard at being hailed by his erstwhile adversary, pale eyes shifting from Teonath's rider to Bayan, head tipped. Leiventh, too, follows the bronzerider's gaze, curious. "It must be snowing at Ista," the weyrling says with a low laugh, hands spreading as if in welcome, "What can I do for our resident itinerant?" the oxymoron delivered smoothly as he waits. He doesn't notice Kalliope's approach, nor her hovering presence nearby. The rogue could feel the coolness in Satiet's voice, and simply gives her a smooth smirk. "You look lovely this day, Satiet," he says with a small bow, "And Teonath too, ofcourse. It's strange our paths haven't crossed sooner." He turns to R'hin, nodding with ease, "I believe someone is saying the same thing about Igen," he returns with a shallow wink. "But in any case, I've come seeking you out to send a message. If the offer's still there, I know what I want to send my sister." He doesn't say anything about the oxymoron since by now he's gotten use to R'hin's names for him. While the others don't notice Kalliope's approach, Bayan does, turning just slightly so that he could see her in the corner of his eye. With a sudden smirk, "Evening, Kalli," he says smoothly. Kalliope inches closer to everyone, confused by their interactions and not wanting to interupt but insatiably curious. When the gold dragon looks her way she pauses, trying not to be noticed just yet and she breaths a sigh of relief when she looks away. However, that short moment of relaxation caused her to lean back against the boulder for a moment, brushing a bit of snow that had been clinging to the side away. Not a blink later though the pile of snow perched precariously atop the boulder comes toppeling down...ontop of Kalliope. She lets out a squeal as she gets burried in the snow drift only moments after Bayan's hello. The dark-haired woman heaves a faint sigh and rests from her high above perch, leaning forward to place her chin lightly against propped up hands. As the conversations continue below her, Satiet merely inclines her head to Bayan's question, and then studies the girl to which the traveler calls out, lifting a brow at the snow bank that falls atop the younger woman. "Jays." With a hand to her temple, and an expression that speaks of gratitude for not being strapped in yet, the slight woman drops back down to the ground. "Are you normally that clumsy, girl?" is called over sharply. "The offer's still there," R'hin confirms. "Tell us what you wish, and Leiventh will pass on the message," he gestures a hand in Leiventh's direction, the bronze's head swinging to peer briefly at Kalliope, before his attention returns to Bayan, expression inscrutable as only a dragon's can be. Lips purse for a moment, a trace of amusement as he notes, "For someone who claims not to have deigns on Satiet, your words imply otherwise, Igenite." There's a faint emphasis on the goldrider's name, something that's almost possessive. It fades as Kalliope's fall draws his attention in that direction. "Good evening, Kalliope," he greets in easy, warm tones, as if to assuage her visible confusion, several purposeful strides taking him to her side to offer her a hand back to her feet in deliberate counter to Satiet's cool words, "Nice to see you're still here." Bayan could have made a move to get to Kalliope's side, but since R'hin got there with Satiet, he stays where he is. He does give her a faint look of concern before it vanishes. At R'hin's quip about the goldrider, he chuckles a bit and shakes his head, "I still have no plans for Satiet-" and he again bows to Satiet -"for I never did. Besides, don't feel like being sat on by a dragon or something. I choose my battles." Familiar words perhaps, since he looks towards Kalliope as he says it? Back to R'hin, "Anyway, all I want her to know is that I'll be seeing her in a sevenday. She can expect a visit from me soon. I'm sure Kyreth will tell her well." After a pause, "And, uh, thanks again." Kalliope, flustered, tries to find her way out of the snow. Supprised by the hand she takes it and offers a shy smile and soft "Thank you". To the question from Satiet she responds quietly with, "Actually, no... I'm not really sure what happened..." she looks back at the boulder as if it might tell her why it dumped its pile of snow on her head. She realizes she's still holding R'hin's hand at this point and with more pink coming to her cheeks she drops it. She turns to Satiet. "I've already met these two, but I haven't had the pleasure of meeting you. My name is Kalliope. I came in with the tithe train a sevenday ago." at least she knows enough to formally introduce herself to a goldrider. Leiventh> Kyreth senses that Leiventh's thoughts arrive in a bassy crimson splash, abruptly present. There's a feeling of washed-out-ness due to the distance, a hint of brittle cold conveying the dragon's location in the chilly High Reaches. « I have a message for your rider. Her clutchsibling, » there's a brief image of Bayan, « Wishes yours to know that he will see her in a sevenday, and to expect a visit from him soon. » Leiventh senses that Kyreth's thoughts are like a quiet storm blowing away, sending a feeling of warmth in both emotion and climate. There is an understanding after a long moment before « It must be the Easy One. His clutchsibling is delighted and will see him soon. » There's a long moment as though something is being conferred, « She also wishes him to know she is free of the healing-place. » There's a sending of thanks before the feeling of the storm dissipates. Leiventh> Kyreth senses that Leiventh gives a faint sense of acknowledgement, before the sharp crimson fades away and is gone. Adjusting her stance on solid ground, Satiet stomps her boots free of the snow clustered along the edges of her boots. "Traders? Kalliope?" Though the sharpness of before doesn't dissipate, a much more poised look is spared the snow-dusted girl. "I'd imagine you need to learn how to maneuver on snow before you make attempts to skulk around looking suspiciously out of place." Teonath's unfurled wings curl against her side once more, and looking decidedly sulkish, the young queen snuggles herself further into the snow. "Yes," over her shoulders to Bayan, though it's fleeting as her cool gaze returns to Kalliope and R'hin by default, "We've already established his lack of intentions on my person, weyrling. I trust you've had your little fun manipulating those around you now?" A young woman in her late teens stands before you. Her mousy brown hair hangs in a loose tail about halfway down her back. There are a few tangled curls in her otherwise straight hair revealing she has likely tossed it up rather haphazardly. Other than her tousled hair, she seems rather well kept, just not the neat-as-a-pin type. Her oval face is relatively clean though she has a slightly tanned complexion that may be hiding small bits of dust. Her long sleeved, earth-toned, shirt wraps around her torso making her appear to have a long slender waist. Two buttons on the right hand side hold it closed. The cross of the two sides of the fabric is right in the center of her chest, making an X shape between her curves, complimenting them well. Her bottom half wears a knee-length skirt in a similar color. A fringe of deep red brushes across her mostly bare knees (the only skin besides her face and hands that shows). As for her legs and feet, they are covered in knee-high winter boots that tie in a wrap fashion all the way up her calf ending in a usually half tied bow. Standing a full 5'10", she is slender and muscled, obviously one who works for her supper. The expression on her face is shy but warm as if she wants to make friends but is wary of strangers. Finally her eyes, hidden behind dark lashes brown eyes with green flecks give her a slight allure that she seems to not be aware of at all. R'hin's hand remains on Kalliope's until she's steadied and lets it go, an easy grin offered for both the reaction and her words. "Welcome." He briefly brushes at arm to dislodge some snow, before stepping back towards Leiventh, pale eyes leveled at Bayan, "Words, just words, Igenite," he returns, though without heat at all in his voice, as if it is pure habit to retort. His gaze go briefly glazed, staring briefly in Leiventh's direction, before he gives a sharp nod. "He's passed on the message. She seems pleased, and wants you to know she's out of the infirmary." A slight curve of lips. "And you're welcome." He turns just enough to allow him to view Satiet, voice sober, serious all of a sudden, "My only concern is for your well-being, dear lady." Leiventh> Teonath senses that Leiventh's tones are warmed with crimson splashes, as he touches your thoughts. « Mine still wishes to fly with yours. » Kalliope brushes the snow off of herself and turning a bit more pink. "I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to skulk. I was trying not to interupt. I've obviously failed at that." she swallows. "Good to see you Bayan. Thank you R'hin." and she nods formally to the weyrwoman. "If you'll excuse me, I'll let you get back to what you were doing." And with that she turns on her heels and races off in the other direction. Kalliope meanders towards the western side of the bowl. Kalliope has left. Bayan grins at Satiet for a moment before nodding to R'hin, "Thanks for the relay, R'hin. I'm glad she's fine." He was going to add more but thought the better of it. With a shrug, "Well, no need to worry about anyone's well-being on my account. I'm pretty much harmless here." He flashes an innocent grin as Kalliope races off, though something passes in his expression. Gone just as quickly, he turns to the dragonriders with a smirk, "Well, it looks like I was interrupting something important here. Perhaps I should let you two get back to it, hm?" He motions a hand at them both. More bemused by Kalliope's rapid exit than the incidents leading up to it, Satiet keeps her gaze on the speck as it disappears into the other side of the bowl before she turns with a faint twist of her lips. "Josilina will be disappointed. I don't think I've managed to scare someone into running away quite so- rapidly, in turns." But unperturbed by the girl's departure, the young weyrwoman turns back to catch part of Bayan's words, and attempts to piece the snippets she's digested together. "Your sister was injured?" The hand motion results in dry laughter to the cool wind, and a bemused comment, "I am grateful for your allowance, Bayan. Important?" The raven hair swings as she attempts to seek out R'hin's face. "I suppose it's only as important as R'hin might deem finding a more permanent home for himself." R'hin, like Bayan, says nothing more of it, though he does give a faint snort in answer to the Igenite's assertion he's harmless. He watches Kalliope's hasty departure with a twitch of lips, brows flickering upwards as he glances in Satiet's direction. "I see you've not lost your touch at intimidating the general public." With a little tip of his head, he agrees, "We did have a previous engagement." A hint of laughter in his voice, lips twisting for a moment at Satiet's words as he adds, "Ordinarily I'm not one to settle down, but you've proven most persuasive, lady of the spires." A half-bow is executed in her direction before he pulls on his gloves. Bayan laughs at Satiet's words before nodding more soberly, "Yeah, she got injured, but she's fine now." He shrugs at it as though it were nothing of importance at the moment. "Ofcourse I'll have to have words with her for worrying me so, but that's neither here nor there." He then looks over at R'hin, "A home for himself? Hm, what did I interrupt, then?" He's willing to even pry, but he shakes his head quickly and sighs, "Shells....actually, I need to finish up those repairs before I see Harley," he says almost apologetically. "Looks like you'll both have to trade words without me. I'm sure we'll have other days, ofcourse," and he bows with the ease of a rogue from the outside. "You two behave, hm?" Bayan walks towards the lake shore. Bayan has left. "Behave?" Satiet latches onto that last directive, returning Bayan's bow with another of her mocking salutes towards his back. "I doubt that term'll ever apply to either of us," asides the young woman to R'hin, challenge in the lift of her chin and glitter of her blue eyes. What he says bothers her little, not even garnering a shift in her expression. Instead, her crystalline eyes lift to seek out the stars in the sky once more and renewed by her rider's intentions, Teonath rustles herself out of the little bed of smoothed ice she's created for herself, shaking her limbs free of snow and however much feigned slumber. "I'm impressed you seem to have not stepped on more toes than the weyrlingmaster's, R'hin, that he'd allow you to graduate with your peers. However, I suppose even if you don't, Leiventh's fairly cramped in the tight quarters provided by the barracks." "Not all that likely," is R'hin's amused comment after Bayan, almost simultaneously with Satiet's words, pale eyes shifting towards the weyrwoman and sharing that brief moment of perfect understanding. "I wouldn't be too impressed until the day that I'm given my rider's knot. It could well be some time yet," he says, acknowledging his failings with apparent ease. "Regardless of that - you're right, Leiventh can't fit well at all in the barracks any more. As much as he enjoys the company of his clutchmates, I look forward to peace from Priya's sour comments, and Bristia's snarky ones, not to mention Maja's constant inquisitiveness." "Then," Satiet leans forward just that smidge in a faux-leer for the bronzerider, punctuating the movement with slow wink of one eye, "I lead, you follow." Repeating the previous statement brings forth that knowing smirk again and in a fluid motion, turns of practice, vaults her way up Teonath's side, the gold snapping her wings open and in the air before the young woman has time to strap herself in. Satiet vaults up onto Teonath's back, using her foreleg as a step. Satiet has left. Teonath has left. In the sky directly above, Teonath rises effortlessly into the sky from the ground below. R'hin's pale gaze follows the weyrwoman for a moment or two more, before - this time - he concedes wordlessly, climbing Leiventh's side, the still bronze snapping into abrupt movement in the gold's wake. You are perched on Leiventh's warm bronze neck, his hide soft against your touch. You leap into the sky. You rise up in the sky. You wing down to a quick landing on the empty ledge. Teeny Tiny Square Weyr(#11173RJs) The roomy ledge at the fore of this weyr could hold a pair of bronze dragons easily. It even boasts a couple of sunny little hollows perfect for them. The left side of the ledge has almost constant sunlight, while the right side, thanks to an outcropping of bowl wall, is shadier and cooler by result. The room inside is stark contrast to all this space out on the ledge. The doorway that leads inward opens into a room that's only about ten feet by ten feet. The tiny square room boasts a surprising amount of furniture, though. To the immediate right of the door, the rest of that wall is devoted to a hide-covered desk, in front of which is a wobbly chair. On the back wall, is a bed, its bottom raised about four feet off the ground to make room for a couple of big boxes slap full of more old hides. Between the high bed and the desk is a clothes press; the wall to the left of the doorway bears a couple of hooks for coats or straps as well as a two-foot-deep closet with a few more boxes of odds and ends the previous owner has left behind. The closet, which runs about half the room's length, is sectioned off behind a grayish sheet. The only thing that keeps the tiny room from seeming more claustrophobic is the window set into the space above the desk. When its shutters are opened, it shows a nice view of that broad ledge. Contents: Teonath Obvious exits: Sky » Satiet hops down Teonath's side to the ground, as the dragon warbles a greeting. You clamber down Leiventh's side to the ground, as the dragon warbles a greeting. In the air, Teonath's massive bulk makes short work of the winter winds that grow in speed the higher the altitude, and with purpose in the uneven wingbeats, the young queen spirals up towards a huge ledge high above the weyr. Fully expecting Leiventh, with his rider in tow, to follow, the pair spare little in the attention backwards and as Teonath settles herself prominently to draw in the remnant warmth of one side of the ledge, Satiet slides down into a patch of fluffy snow. "One of these days, instead of a cold day in Ista, someone will change that saying to eternal summer in Reaches and it'll be true." The expectation is indeed fulfilled, Leiventh following in Teonath's wake, his slightly smaller form dealing with the winds in a growingly familiar manner. His rider leans close against the cinnamon bronze's hide until the dragon backwings to a neat landing on the ledge beside the gold. "It doesn't have quite the right impact," R'hin opines as he hits the ground with a thud of boots, muffled somewhat by the layer of snow. He casts a quick eye around the ledge, lips pursed. "Are these your picks?" he asks of Satiet, with a grin, noting the ledge is large enough to comfortably house both dragons. Hiding a smirk, Satiet waves a hand in a magnanimous gesture towards the expansive ledge and then the weyr within. "I've selected a few that I feel would suit you- best." The slight hitch in her statement is audible enough for even the most unperceptive of folk to discern, and knowing this, the young weyrwoman cuts a quick, sly look towards the bronzerider. "We've a few vacancies. There are those who would take advantage of the Interval and find warmer climates, or spend time closer to the family they had left behind when Searched." As she studies her finger nails, feigning boredom though at least one brilliant blue eye remains fixed onto where R'hin might go, "I suppose history of a weyr matters little other than if it'll suit though you don't have to make a decision now." Teonath's sprawl to draw in the sun's prior heat from the stone is inelegant, and then, as if remembering herself, the youthful queen compacts herself into prim poise: tail, wings, and neck tucked in. Leiventh examines the ledge just as closely as R'hin does, though the bronze is a lot less animated about it, tail tucking neatly in, only his head swinging this way and that. R'hin ducks into the weyr itself, lips twisted thoughtfully. "The weyr itself is rather small - only really suitable for one person. But then I suppose that's cozy." It's an observation, nothing more, though it's accompanied by a hint of humor. "I don't much care if someone threw themselves off the ledge here, so long as it's suitable." He doesn't seem to dislike it, but he says, "My preference is for something remote. I wouldn't wish to encourage visitors." Teonath's soft whispers, the cadence of sand against sand mesh with the ripples of a desert oasis, shrouded by frondy trees, intrude delicately into Leiventh's mind, « And what do you think of this ledge for you and yours? » Yours, however, doesn't quite strike up the image of R'hin as much as a fleeting flash of spring green followed by a more vivid streak of a warm-hued gold. "Your preferences are noted, weyrling," and how she delights in saying that title, the emphasis on the word slight but enough to differentiate between R'hin and Satiet. "However, you'll have to work with what we do have available, though I'll also keep it in mind that you probably will rather dislike a red, yellow, and blue painted weyr. /Children/," she expels with disdain, "And parents' foolish whims to cater to every last desire I imagine. You have seen the weyr sufficiently?" Though her rest was short-lived, Teonath slowly uncurls herself with one long wing at a time in a draconic stretch with her rainbow-faceted eyes studiously on Leiventh. Leiventh> Teonath senses that Leiventh's mindvoice, unlike his physical presence, is animated, crimson splashing about in barely restrained agitation. « It is nice and large, » he opines, « And it would get a lot of warmth, » he's eyeing the particular spot Teonath's occupying, thoughtfully. He seems to like it much more than R'hin does, if his mindtones are any indicator. A wide grin splits R'hin's face at Satiet's emphasis on his title, responding in a low voice, "Enjoy saying it while you still can, -ma'am-." He leans in the short entranceway into the weyr, eyes drifting across the space. "No, indeed. I'll grant that you know me well enough to guess I wouldn't be fond of a weyr decorated by a two Turn old." A sharp nod is given, and an unreadable glance to Leiventh, before he assents, "We've seen enough." Leiventh> To you, Leiventh asides, « I like it. It's nice and roomy. For me, anyway. You can fit into that small space, you're tiny, » he adds, of the weyr, cutting off your protest before you've even voiced it. "Then we'll avoid the weyr that is notorious for being unable to keep a resident." There's a significantly dry pause before the cream-toned woman's cheeks touch pink and her lips twist into a mocking amusement that attempts to mask her discomfort. "Noisy greenriders." Without another word, Satiet is atop Teonath again, little patience to wait for R'hin as the pair are off again, and after an indecisive hover where the bronze might catch up, the lissome golden form sluices neatly through the air towards a broad ledge over the lake. R'hin's a little more slow in following, gaze on Leiventh, shifting towards Teonath as the gold drops off the ledge. "I think you enjoy follow the leader a lot more than I do," he murmurs, wry, as he climbs atop the bronze, the dragon dropping sharply downwards to make up ground on Teonath, catching up as she reaches the ledge over the lake. With a flick of wings, he squeezes into the space beside her, as the bronzerider casts a critical look around.
The second set of stairs from the ledge is covered with heavy canvas more often found in ships' sails. Past that, the weyr is a tidy little space, dominated by its painted walls. Though the baby-blue color has faded slightly and there are numerous scuffs that have taken the paint off in places, it's held up remarkably well--better, at least, than the furniture. The wood looks like driftwood, though at this point it's little more than a pile of rubble that might once have been chair, or table, or desk. The buggy hammock strung up at the back is rotting where it hangs. The decorations on the walls, though, are still serviceable: a faded painting of a ship at sea, a couple of fishing nets hung on those blue walls, and, in the corner, a tiny wooden replica of a boat in full sail. Contents: Satiet Leiventh Teonath Obvious exits: Sky If smug had a definition dictionary, it would definitely have the expression Satiet has on her features as she makes her way down, and plants herself against Teonath's warm side. Over her chest, her slender arms cross and with a tipped incline of her sharp chin, she indicates the weyr. "Go wild," she asserts dryly, mocking almost, as if well-aware the impression this weyr might make on the weyrling. "A seacrafter turned bluerider used to keep this weyr before he weyrmated a greenrider across the lake and reluctantly, very reluctantly, gave all this up. Frankly," the young woman's nose turns up faintly, wrinkling at the very tip in what would be a cute look if this weren't Satiet, "I think he just got tired of trying to keep his junk in a good state." The jaunty step of the bronzerider is hint that he views this weyr with more favor than the last, taking quick steps around the inner weyr, before climbing the upward steps two at a time until he reaches the top of the 'lookout'. He pushes at the hammock, setting it swinging, before turning to examine the view. A low exhale, and his gaze finally shifts towards Teonath and Satiet below, then Leiventh. "The junk I can replace. And I'm not a big fan of the sea-theme, other than the hammock-- actually, I'm surprised you didn't take to it, given your... background?" Leiventh> To you, Leiventh confesses, « I do like being over the lake. The thermals are perfect there. » The flat look with which R'hin's jab garners removes any of the trace smugness from the weyrwoman's lips and with shadowed eyes, Satiet waves her hand. "Queens are grounded, weyr-wise, to make it easier for us," she jabs a thumb at herself with no short measure of pent frustration that attempts superciliousness, and deliberately does not rise to his bait of prior living circumstances, "To maneuver when they've clutched. The lack of wings to make it home and all." However, all her disagreeableness aside, the sharply-featured woman glances about, "I figured this would appeal to your- unique tastes." "I feel duly flattered that you know me so well." R'hin's arms fling wide, and he's grinning as he takes the steps three at a time, practically bouncing down to the ledge level. A twitch of brows meets Satiet's explanation of the situation, as he says, "So for the twelve other months of the Turn, you can't live where you want to live?" he asks, with patient bemusement, and a hint of sympathy. His attention shifts to Leiventh, the pair exchanging a long look. "Leiventh likes it. I like it. I'm not sure there's much need to keep looking, except-- well, I ought to give Leiventh more opportunity to chase Teonath." "Proximity and-," and there's more of that ill-veiled irritation in Satiet's clouded eyes, "Availability to those who require our attention." Perhaps there was one too many accidental visits where privacy wasn't the foremost of options available in her weyr. In either case, the young woman turns a tight lip to R'hin's comment, sharply eyeing her dragon and then the cinnamon-flecked bronze. "And here," she begins in a slow drawl, words heated behind the veneer of distance, "I had thought you would do everything within your power to prevent any such circumstance, even the," she flicks a glance across the expanse of lake beneath, "The innocuous ones." "My dear, you're not the Weyrwoman yet," R'hin reminds her with a tip of his head, pale eyes sharply amused. "And Leiventh, well, he is a bronze. I imagine there will be plenty of other golds that the practice would do him well for." He nudges plank of wood across the ledge with the toe of his boot, stopping just shy of punting it out into the air. A slanted glance is given the goldrider, the sympathy more obvious now, and perhaps more unwelcome at that. "Those who require your attention have the option of requesting your presence of Teonath. I imagine there's always an empty weyr or two that you could... occupy semi-temporarily. And if that fails, you're always more than welcome here," his hand gestures, already claiming ownership of the space. "Not all those who require my attention have the option of dragon speech," is Satiet's correction, again deliberate in not reacting to R'hin's amusement. It's visible, however, this time as she's unsuccessful in dampening the lines that start creasing in the thin line of the woman's lips. "Mmm, well, better them than your distaste in chasing Teonath," she manages out, just as the bronzerider makes his invitation, where her lashes just fly upward, uncertain and guarded. So instead, she changes the subject, discomforted and clinging further to Teonath's side. "You'll claim this one then?" A long silence follows, as R'hin studies Satiet with pale blue eyes just as guarded as hers. "You misapprehend me, Satiet," he says her name in that way of his, quiet, intimate, "But I suspect perhaps that is a deliberate move on your part." He allows her a moment of privacy, turning towards the weyr, one hand trailing along the wall near the stairs. With his back still turned, he answers evenly, "We will." His words do very little to alleviate the guarded look of her eyes. Satiet turns her head and comes to the edge of the ledge so that Teonath can curl around her frame, protective of the slight woman. The intimacy fused into her name is returned with low words, almost inaudible given the winds at this height. "You shouldn't say my name like that. And-," abruptly, the alto shifts cadence, "Whatever you don't find here, the stores may have something, extra furniture, older though serviceable." She speaks as one who understands all too well the state of the furniture in the lower caverns. "Why not?" For once, R'hin's voice is free of the usual insinuations, glancing back towards Satiet only to find her hidden by Teonath's bulk. He takes a couple of steps towards the stairs, settling on the third step up. He nods briefly in thanks at the mention of the stores, oblivious to the fact that it might be missed: his attention is on the weyrwoman, awaiting a response to his query. "You could use another hammock, I suppose, though a bed for your weyr is just common sense. And perhaps some paint to redo your walls if the nautical decorations aren't to your liking." Prattling now, though her frame is mostly obscured by Teonath's larger bulk so that only the top of her head is visible from the weyrling's vantage point, it's unclear whether or not Satiet's even heard R'hin's two word query until silence, interrupted by the wind, reigns. Her response, though quiet, is filled with stubborn unwavering. "Because, it's not right." Threaded through is that same telltale uncertainty of a guard that wavers. "You shouldn't move in until it's cleaner. Who knows what kind of infestations have settled in the recesses." "Not right?" R'hin echoes her tone exactly, curious still. "Is that not your name, Satiet?" he does it again, and it's almost like it's unintentional, since it's said in the same way, and there's no mocking tone to suggest he does it deliberately. A little smile is evidenced at her prattling, and he allows, "I think I'll graduate to a bed. I'll keep the hammock up there, though," he gestures vaguely behind him at the little lookout area. "I'm not that big a fan of the paint job, but I'm not fussed enough to change it. Besides, perhaps it will make you feel comfortable enough to visit." The invitation lingers, the bronzerider's head tipping, not that he can see Satiet's expression at present. When in doubt, ice princesses run, and Satiet follows true to her kind as she reaches up backwards to grasp Teonath's straps to haul herself up with very little grace. Now that at least one side of her profile is visible, the sculpted features betray the flush of flustered emotions that her stubborn voice hasn't yet. "I hope you enjoy your new weyr," with full intentions to depart, that are thwarted by Teonath's sudden leisure of movement. Another of those long, almost uncomfortable scrutiny from the bronzerider's pale gaze, R'hin's voice soft, "Thank you for showing me." He leaves her name off, with no apparent desire to provoke her further, having caught sight of her expression. Pushing quickly to his feet, he starts to take a step in the goldrider's direction, then seems to change his mind abruptly, instead heading for the weyr, leaving Satiet her privacy and a moment to compose herself before her departure. Hyper-aware of movements around her, it's not until after R'hin's headed into the weyr that the goldrider's head lowers and a quick inhale is followed by a slower exhalation, self-calming. Bemused, Teonath rumbles to the young bronze, and with a tail flick of departure, launches herself into the sky and then down immediately towards the lower ledges along the far wall. Satiet clambers up onto Teonath's back, as the dragon warbles a greeting. Satiet has left. Teonath springs powerfully into the sky. Teonath has left. |
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