Logs:Plagued Leper Boy
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| RL Date: 14 November, 2015 |
| Who: Lys, Rh'mis, Evyth, Rosvelth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Rhey tries to keep Lys away with plague and talk of kissing. |
| Where: Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 11, Month 4, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Jocelyn/Mentions, Rone/Mentions, Tevrane/Mentions |
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>---< Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr(#276RJs) >-------------------------------<
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.
The sky is clear today. The air remains cool and damp, but the weather is
overall pleasant today.
-----------------------------< Active Players >-----------------------------
Lys F 20 5'5" slender, blonde hair, blue-green eyes 0s
Rh'mis M 22 5'6" scrawny, brown hair, blue eyes 12s Early spring is an improvement over late winter, but only barely; it's still cool and damp outside, and not nearly nice enough for most to voluntarily hang about. Rhey, however, is not most, and though he has eschewed the brooding bench, he has selected a sturdy and well-positioned brooding boulder as its temporary replacement. His brown has borrowed the ledge of someone who lives not too distant from the ground, and is leaning down to watch with the kind of studiously benign interest that suggests he's much more intent about it than he's pretending to be. Lys' approach is anything but silent, what with the bouncing green that precedes her to the shore of the lake. Still, her approach of Rhey is quieter, being without the green, occupied at the edge of the lake with sticking her talons into the water to get off the worst of the blood. (And splashing.) "Are you plagued? Should I keep my distance?" No reason to bother being gentle about what's important. Surprise, surprise: Rhey scowls. "Yes, I have the plague and leprosy all at once, better stay away." He reaches up with one hand to cover his nose, quite as if he's about to pull it off and show her-- he's serious! « It works better when they scrub, » Rosvelth tells Evyth with a gleaming burst of light, sun reflecting upon a gentle, bubbling stream. « You should make her scrub you. » "Liar," Lys calls him. "If you were really dying, you'd be up in your weyr yelling at some poor kitchen slob for kindly bringing you food and tea." Then, "If you're aiming for a way out, you'd better get to kissing a bunch of people. I hear that's how it gets around," she even makes a puckered lip face at him but can't bring herself to actually blow him a kiss. « Oh! » Who's this now? Evyth turns her head to seek him out. « Oh, she will, only she wanted to say hello to that boy. Rhey? » She seems uncertain. « And she's almost never friendly willingly so-- » she didn't want to ruin the moment. « Who are you? » "Maybe I want to make sure everyone else gets sick too," points out the brownrider, his hand dropping back towards his side (his nose, FYI, is still in place). "Maybe I've already kissed a hold full of holders. Or," his gaze slides away from Lys and towards the distant shore. "Maybe I'm immune, and spreading it to everyone else just out of spite. What do you want, anyway?" Rosvelth extends his neck, and then his wings, to allow Evyth a better look at him; he's here! He's him! « I'm Rosvelth. » Who else? « Does she really want to say hello to him? Most don't. » There are some rapid blinks, but possibly because, "I wouldn't put it past you. You seem so amorous all the time. Were they Nabolese?" It's perfectly deadpan, of course. Lys cocks her head to look up at him. "Nothing really fazes you. Death doesn't matter?" It's actually a curious question. "Maybe I wanted to thank you. For being an ass about his searching me. Since it worked out for me." Evyth seems perplexed, but sweetly so. Why would anyone not want to greet someone Lys did want to? « Yes, she does-- did. Will probably want to again, she says. She doesn't mind he's a leper, » and that's perfectly confusing all by itself. There must be further inquiry because, « Oh, she says his sense of humor has fallen off, » which sounds perfectly awful to Evyth, until there's a giggle -- it was a joke. Lys made a joke! « She says you found me for her! » It's abrupt and bright, full of gratitude. « You are the best! » (Of course he is.) "Only the best." Nabolese, then; certainly. It's almost as if Rhey is in a good mood-- or the closest thing he gets to, anyway, given givens. "We're all going to die. Now, later. Eventually. Ought to be thanking him for that, not me." He may well be ignoring the bit where his being an ass helped. Or maybe he just doesn't care. « His sense of humour fell off. » Rosvelth, for the record, is delighted by this. « Yes! Yes, that's exactly what happened. And I tried to dive for it, but he wouldn't let me, because he can no longer see it as funny. » Evyth's delightful. Truly delightful. « Did I? Oh. I did! Of course I did. And that's why you're here now, because of me! But you can be close to the best, if you like. » "Yes, certainly. I imagine you had trouble getting to that Lady Holder and her family though, what with being sequestered in a time of need." Lys' words are baiting; how much does Rhey care for his home's politics? "She's thanking him for us, but if you hadn't been such an ass about it, I wouldn't have said yes, so thank you too, for just being you." Sweet old Rhey. She smiles prettily up at him, and then climbs his boulder. Is there room for two? There are giggles from Evyth, delighted giggles, « I'd very much like to be! I do try. Sometimes I fall, » which isn't the same thing as failing, but sometimes close, « but Lys loves me anyway. » Then, more seriously, « I'm so sorry that you weren't able to recover it. Maybe one day you can try again? » Rh'mis presses his mouth together into something that is almost like a smile. "I'm a man who knows how to get places," he tells Lys, almost with a straight face. It's only in his eyes that she might catch some kind of concern. There's rather more concern, however, as Lys attempts to climb her way up-- there's room, but, but, but. "You're a pain in the ass, you know?" « I will try again. One day, I will make it happen, and it will be one of those days that we speak of forever. A tale for the ages. I'll be a hero. » Pause. « More of one than I am already, that is. » "No more than you," Lys replies, perching nearby but not close to him. She wouldn't want to risk getting in range for his mad lip-locking skillz. "So Tevrane is locked up somewhere and you know how to get in, hm? Sounds like the kind of thing you should be bragging to someone else about." Someone who might find that useful. Someone who might care. « You will! » Evyth believes in him, and what's more: « You're my hero! For finding Lys. » He would be, wouldn't he? « I'm sure finding what's missing for Rhey can't be that much harder. Is it? » Rhey is, after all, irresistible. It's a known fact. "You started it," he says, as far as Nabol and Tevrane go. "Why would anyone want to get in anyway? To drag her out? Who would want to do that? She's safer where she is." For Tevrane, if no one else, he seems to have some kind of loyalty. « Am I? Of course I am! I'm a hero. » He's Rosvelth; the two are synonymous. « I hope not, but I have been trying for turns and turns. I'm pretty sure the answer is in greens, but he seems convinced otherwise. Maybe I should try chasing golds, instead. » Just in case. "Uh, you're wingmate started it. If you're looking for someone to blame, find out which one cared enough to see you not die when you were a leper," Lys corrects. "So you like her, then," is observed idly. "Not for kissing, I'm assuming," but she sideeyes him just in case old ladies are what tickle his pickle. « In greens! » Evyth is interested by this theory. « I'm green! » in case he hadn't noticed. « Maybe I have the answer! » Though, « Why would you want to chase golds? I don't chase Aidavanth. I don't think she would like to be chased. » "Still a leper," Rhey declares, exhaling a puff of breath out from both cheeks as he does so. "Tevrane's fine. She's done good things." She's not Rone; she can't possibly be worse. "She's a Lady," which means no, she's not for kissing, and don't you dare imply otherwise; his scowl, this time, is actually aimed directly towards Lys. « She will, » Rosvelth tells Evyth, though he's not going to explain further-- impressionable young greens at all. « Maybe you do. Maybe I'll find it with you; that would be good. Since I helped you find yours and all. » "Oh, sure, now your proud of it," Lys rolls her eyes. "And I'm the pain in the ass." She gives the brownrider a dark look. "If Ladies don't kiss, how do they end up with heirs?" It's followed by sticking her tongue out at him. So there. « She will, » Evyth repeats, though she doesn't sound convinced. « Oh, I would so like to help you! » says the oblivious, impressionable young green. "She's not for kissing for a person like me," is the clarification, made with a sharp, probing scowl: Lys better not forget that fact, going forward. It wouldn't do for her to overstep her bounds, even if she's now a rider (maybe especially because she's now a rider). « Good, » declares Rosvelth, well pleased. « That's very good. Maybe when you're bigger. » Hopefully when she's bigger. « We'll tell wonderful stories. » But not right now; now he's launching himself up and off that ledge and into the air, and his rider is sliding down that rock. "Later." "Alright," Lys answers his scowl with a tip of her chin down and a raising of brows as if this might give her agreement more gravity. "I won't go trying to kiss Lady Tevrane. Are you happy?" That, of course, assumes that she counts as a person like him. She doesn't seem inclined to try to stop him, or even say goodbye. Wanting to say hello isn't the same thing as being inclined toward other niceties apparently. « Stories? » Evyth's interest is piqued. « I like stories, » she tells him. « Lys has interesting stories. You could tell me stories, too, when you have time, » she offers brightly. She'd like that! Later. For now, she simply watches the flight with a keen sense of longing. One day, she'll fly too. One day. « Stories, » promises Rosvelth. « I promise. » But for now-- flying. |
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