Logs:Pretty Green, Ugly Green
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| RL Date: 3 October, 2014 |
| Who: G'laer, Oliwer, Z'riah |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Two guys have green dragons and a lack of manners. |
| Where: Eastern Bowl, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 20, Month 12, Turn 35 (Interval 10) |
| OOC Notes: Violence. Slightly back-dated. |
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| Eastern Bowl, High Reaches Weyr Ringed by rough granite walls to all sides but one, this end of the huge bowl narrows from the even broader plain to the west, continuing the ever so slight downward slope toward the blue and green of the Weyr's lake and surrounding foliage. More open to sun and wind than the western bowl, but less frequented when there aren't weyrlings in residence, the bowl's grassy tufts keep the topsoil in place and thicken into a bloodstained meadow within the feeding pens that adjoin the lake. At the base of the surrounding cliffs lie entrances to several caverns, including the dragon infirmary and the weyrling barracks: the former to the northwest near where the spires begin, the latter opposite to the southwest. Both archways are large and dark enough for any dragon to pass through, but it's the infirmary's that is haunted by faint smells of redwort and numbweed, as though over generations they have seeped into the very stone. To the southeast, between the weyrling area and the lake, there are a handful of structures built into the floor of the bowl, standing out amidst otherwise an empty space.
Some of High Reaches' residents are decidedly not delighted by the flurries of snow blowing around them. Yizibeth walks with her wings pulled in tight against her body, looking as miserable as a dragon is apt to look with her head hung low and her eyes squinted against the actually kind of mild weather. The man walking with her doesn't look much happier and that's probably in part because he has no hat and the warmest clothes he owns are his flight leathers, which he's currently wearing. Probably with layers. When Yizibeth pauses to stare at Teisyth, her head draws up and her weight shifts back into her lovely hindquarters like she's offended enough by the sight to physically withdraw from the other green's presence. "What do you mean what is that-- oh." Z'riah sees Teisyth now, too. But he's slightly more polite than his sun-kissed lifemate. Slightly. "Faranth, stop staring." But she doesn't. Teisyth is probably used to being stared at. She never draws much of a crowd for flights, and those that do attend usually The boxy green gallumphing toward her makes Yizibeth do the first thing that comes to mind. Which is to backpedal to the point where she's hiding behind her rider. Never mind that she towers over him by a good margin. He'll keep her safe! Z'riah doesn't look so sure about that. "Shoo," he tells the unfamiliar green since his own isn't being very helpful with the talking. Except to distract him without actually answering Teisyth. "No, I don't think anything's wrong with her. She's just... well." He's not sure how to put it. Normally, G'laer would probably either ignore Teisyth's antics or ask her to leave the others be, but whatever she communicates to him has him approaching with no sign in his lack of expression beyond 'serious' what he knows. "Did she shell in the wilds?" G'laer's baritone is loud enough to carry as he continues to close the distance. The question sounds quite real. "What?" is the question that comes from Z'riah after a few moments, still distracted by Teisyth's presence and whatever his own lifemate is doing in his head. Yizibeth is still staring at the other green, but the approaching man hasn't entirely slipped her attention. She's certainly not going to answer his question even if there is some hint of offense to that, too. "It's just that I can't think of another reason you'd think it was acceptable to shoo a dragon." G'laer's G'laer, so he's coming right into Z'riah's personal space. Too bad Yizibeth is so busy hiding behind her rider for protection from the harmless one of the pair; her rider looks like he might need some protecting now. Fortunately for the pretty green, Teisyth is snorting her disapproval and moving her hooked tail to snag one of G'laer's ankles warningly as he stares down the other greenrider. Yizibeth probably has entirely too much faith in her rider's ability to protect himself. And, indeed, Z'riah tries to stand up a little taller to meet that invasion into his personal space without stepping back from the other greenrider. He looks up at G'laer as though he's not intimidated, but there are tells to the contrary that the other man is of no doubt aware. "Probably the same reason you'd think it was acceptable to get all up in my face, asshole." Yizibeth croons uncertainly, looking between Teisyth and her rider, weight shifting as she tries to decide what she's supposed to be doing. « He didn't mean it! He's sorry! » Never mind that this is her fault and she should probably be apologizing for herself. Too late! G'laer's fist impacting Z'riah's middle is only made less strong by the fact that Teisyth jerks her tail enough to make one leg stumble back; she probably knows laying him out with a tail sweep would be unacceptable. « Sorry! » Teisyth's turn to apologize, only, « He's not sorry and he meant it, but he's dumb fer gettin' fussed, I'm sure y'all didn't mean nothin' by it, » she's convinced! She's also really not entirely sure why he's so offended when she only told him they were looking at her and that the man seemed to want her to be gone and she weren't sure why. All this is available in the public stream of her thoughts, easy enough to feel along with her twangy words. Almost as soon as G'laer's fist hits Z'riah's gut, the green's wings are mantled and she's hissing a sound that's more distressed than threatening. « Make him stop! » she tells Teisyth, eyes whirling wildly. She must have been super fun during weyrlinghood if she's this sensitive now. After a moment where he's hunched forward, just long enough for him to suck in a shallow breath, Z'riah bowls forward with an angry sound and every intention of taking them both to the ground. The former guard was expecting retaliation, so there's a struggle to get him to the ground, but eventually they end up there. There's no one handily nearby to pull them apart either, so there's blows exchanged that will surely leave some bruises in inopportune spots. G'laer must be having a bad day, because even for him, this is out of hand. Teisyth only has one idea. « Oliwer!! » It's a tightly directed channel right to the healer, and a little panicked, perhaps picking up on Yizibeth's distress. « They're fighting! In the bowl! Make him stop! » Because clearly neither a fourteen and a half foot nor a fifteen and a half foot tall dragon can do anything about the escalating situation directly in front of them. It's not immediately, but Oliwer appears rather quickly. He didn't even put on a proper jacket. "What is the meaning of this!" he yells at the wrestling greenriders in a voice that's much firmer than G'laer generally hears coming from the reserved healer. He doesn't try to get between the men, though, because there's nothing even moderately skilled about his ability to break up a fight. Yizibeth glances at the healer, crooning like she expects him to start attacking her rider now, too. « I hate this place! » It's probably some combination of Oliwer's voice and Yizibeth's upset echoing through his head that makes Z'riah go still even if he's not happy about it. Especially not where he ends up underneath the other greenrider. When Z'riah goes still, and of course G'laer doesn't go still any more willingly or faster, he's straddling the younger man with his fingers gripping the man's jacket. He's obviously heated and there's already a bruise darkening one of his cheeks and some blood dribbling from a split lip. He does stop, and looks up at the healer, glaring, actually, probably only because it means he has to let Z'riah go and get up. « G'laer. » Teisyth sounds excessively unhappy. « They're new. They didn't know any better! » Teisyth's naivety is cute sometimes. Right now, it's not so much, at least judging from the look her rider gives her. She looks immediately saddened, excessively so. Now Oliwer can be mad at him for two things. "G'laer," Oliwer unknowingly repeats Teisyth's unhappiness with his own, glaring at the greenrider with his most disappointed of dad faces. "That's enough. Both of you." Nope, Z'riah is not free from the healer's disapproval even though Oliwer has no idea who he is. As soon as he's released, Z'riah is scooting away to put enough distance between himself and the other greenrider to get back onto his feet, scanning himself for injuries as he does so. Yizibeth does similarly, bringing her head close to her rider so she can press her muzzle into his dark, ruffled hair, the whirl of her eyes settled just slightly now that her lifemate is safe. "You're fucking insane," he tells G'laer, glancing at Oliwer like he'll lump him in right along with the greenrider. Apparently Disappointed Dad isn't a match for Angry G'laer. He steps back toward Z'riah, looking all the fiercer for his war wounds. "Say it again," he dares. Teisyth croons her distress eyes whirling with what is starting to edge toward panic. When G'laer starts moving toward Z'riah, Oliwer finally moves toward his weyrmate and reaches out like he will try to physically hold the greenrider back. That this is laughable under any circumstances doesn't really matter to him. Z'riah isn't stupid, though. He doesn't just stand there this time. He backs up and starts turning away, swearing something about psychopaths as he goes. G'laer wins! Zif is crying uncle. He's pretty fond of his face, thank you very much. Yizibeth follows him without comment, though she casts an uncertain look back toward Teisyth. G'laer watches the other greenrider go, glowering at his back. It's only after they're well away that he glances toward Oliwer, some degree of warning in his own expression. Teisyth has hunkered down, all her lids closed over her eyes even though she's decidedly not a sleep. Daddy and Daddy are going to fight again!! It's not until the unfamiliar greenrider is gone and G'laer's attention has come back to him that Oliwer asks, "What was that all about?" Despite lingering disappointment, he doesn't sound angry so much as concerned, though, well aware that his weyrmate is not an easy flip to switch. There must be a reason that's more than some passing greenrider getting on his nerves. "Will you come inside and let me look at your lip?" is added, in part because he's cold out here without the proper outdoor attire. Teisyth cracks an eye. "He was being rude. To Teisyth." A statement that has Teisyth making a puzzled croon and G'laer giving her a look. Then he looks at Oliwer, a little less surly now. "Fine." Then he falls silent to follow the healer inside; it's likely he only comes because of how Oliwer is dressed. "You can't go beating up everyone you think has been rude to Teisyth. Not everyone means to be," Oliwer says quietly, as he turns to go inside. He leads the greenrider through the dragon infirmary and toward the human infirmary where he'll have to be to finish his day, anyway. When they're alone in a curtained off section, Oliwer lifts a hand to G'laer's chin to take a look at his lip, but instead of cleaning it right away, he tries to kiss it very gently. G'laer jerks to a stop behind the healer when he says that. Teeth are ground for a moment and eyes narrowed. Now isn't the moment to cross him, not even if you're Oliwer. A moment later, he takes another step, and then another, the first few stilted and awkward, and then he's moving again. It was only a few breaths between stopping and starting and could easily go unnoticed. The greenrider sits stiffly on the edge of the cot, hands on his knees and back straight. This could just be his general feelings on being in the infirmary (and not drunk). But the fact that the kiss leaves him frowning can't really be reasoned away by his dislike of the smell of redwart and the whimpers of other temporary tenants. Oliwer only glances at G'laer's face briefly but he doesn't say anything else and there's almost no eye contact as he does what he can as quickly but as gently as he can manage. When he does speak again, it's a quiet, "You can go. I'll be a little while longer." He's not supposed to be any longer but maybe he just doesn't want to be with angry G'laer right now. Too bad, Oli. You weymated this G'laer. "I'll wait." Although, isn't it safer for everyone if angry G'laer is contained in one of these cubicles? The healer's brief hesitation before nodding is probably perfectly obvious to the greenrider. And since G'laer will just wait for him, it doesn't actually take Oliwer that long to return and tell his weyrmate that he's ready to go. Perhaps Oliwer should've taken longer because the time away doesn't seem to have done much for G'laer's mood. But then, maybe it's not the sort of mood that gets fixed with time. Only time will tell. |
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