Logs:Stolen Time
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| RL Date: 11 May, 2015 |
| Who: Alida, Farideh, Ilicaeth, Roszadyth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Wingrider and weyrling find a little time to indulge their dragons...and exercise their thoughts. |
| Where: HRW: Lakeside |
| When: Day 10, Month 10, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: 30 F. Snow flurries. |
| Mentions: Quinlys/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: If the icons don't fit, feel free to change yours, Farideh. ^^ |
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| Dusk comes earlier at this time of the Turn, and the growing chill in the air follows likewise. The crispness of autumn sees not only snowflakes upon the air, but a few skiffs of the white stuff dusting the ground as well...except right next to the lake. *There*, near-omnipresent mud and sand dwell with the constant bathing of dragons who haul themselves in and out of the water...and it's there that a rather mud-bound, heavily-dressed Alida is found, a long-handled boar-bristle brush in bare hands that she wields like a sword while scrubbing her lifemate's eyeridges. His head hovers only a few bare inches above the slop, and as enjoyment and growing relaxation threaten to make Ilicaeth drop his chin into the mud, the hooded blonde barks out tartly to him, "Watch it!" A small jerk of his head upward pulls the blue out of range of any more scrubbing attentions, his once-droopy eyelids snapping open fully like windowshades. The chill in the air calls for warmer clothing and stout beverages, and it's for those reasons that Farideh's brought back that old, too-large coat that she wore the winter before. She moves at a slower pace than her dragon, who is eager to get to the lake, and likewise, the thick mud ringing the shore. Both pause just beyond where the water touches the sand, but the pale gold, wings snapping open, happily slinks her way into the yet-lukewarm waters that the lake affords. "Alida," the weyrling says in greeting, after noticing that particular blue and his hooded rider. "Illicaeth," is more of an afterthought. Give him a few moments, and Ilicaeth's head is cautiously lowered again so Alida can settle back into scrubbing the stuffings out of the craggy blue's noggin', her efforts this time directed to cheeks and jaw...rather suddenly, too, the shifts between pieces of 'dragon realty' swift and almost impulsive-seeming. Sounds of pleasure drift over the chilly air in plumes of warm breath, and the green-eyed blue only makes more of them both when he rumbles an affable greeting to the arriving weyrling gold and her human. As she scrubs for all she's worth, Alida's green gaze flicks over to the coated girl for a moment, soon followed by her grunted, "Farideh...Roszadyth." More directly to the young dragon, Ilicaeth swirls his desert-heated, grainy, « Feels good... » The scrubbing, the snow, the waters... MmmmHm. Roszadyth wades out until the water rushes against her rounded sides, and she can frollick after a pair of greens that, for now, are larger than she is. « What fun, Illicaeth. Are you not coming? » Into the water, into the adventure. "How're you?" the weyrling asks, politely, turning so she can watch with avid interested as the other woman scrubs down her dragon's hide. Farideh's hands slip into the much warmer confines of her jacket pockets, her head canting slightly to the side. "I haven't seen you-- in a bit. Not that I've had time. Quinlys has kept us all on our toes, but-- have you been well?" « I *itch*.. » is all that the blue offers at first in his gritty baritone, a hint of said state shared with the little gold, though he quickly adds, « Sometimes I itch suddenly. » Alida rarely ever allows his hide to go unattended. After a dip into his rider's mind, the craggy blue mutters, « Alida says I used ta' itch even worse when I was a kid. » Lots of fussing, sleepless nights, and a strange image of a very threadbare, huge blanket are offered to the weyrling as his excuse for not joining those frolics. Plus, Alida might just have his hide right now, too. And while said woman is scrubbing like a maniac, she manages to huff out in aside to Farideh, "Busy... especially with *this* one." Cue a jerk of chin and a small eyeroll at now-crooning Ilicaeth, who plucks his cheek away from that brush in order to place his very first, crested 'ridge at the top of his grape against it, now. Siiigh....scrub. "Weyrlin'hood has a way uv' stealin' time from a person..." the bluie responds with a faint snort and a nod of agreement. Word of Quinlys ears a small nose-wrinkle from the blonde, but she chooses to answer the latter inquiry instead of continuing in her former vein. "Well's a subjective thing. Well in some ways, not in others." Shrug....scrub. "Damnit. Hold still!" Ilicaeth's trying to scrub back at those bristles, and mussing up his rider's scrubbing. Merp! "You?" is huffed to the younger female. The young gold is sympathetic to his pains, though that only goes as far as her words. « Yours will make it end, I am sure. It is such an unpleasant thing, » is properly lament-y, siding with his thoughts on the dreaded itch. "Oh." Farideh glances from the woman to the dragon, and then back. "We shouldn't bother you, if you've a lot to do--" Still, she bites down on her lip, and slants Roszadyth, still wading out in the lake, a thoughtful stare. "I'm fine. Everything's fine. I'm not looking forward to the snow, or flying lessons in the middle of winter, but, there's little to do. It'll happen regardless and-- at least, soon, we'll be out of the barracks." « YES... » is whuffed out to the goldling with sure pleasure, Ilicaeth also letting Roszadyth feel some of his deep enjoyment at the cessation of his itching in his first 'ridge as Alida continues to attack it with gusto. « How're ya doing? » is finally inquired in a gust of mica-laden sand that puffs about the fringes of the weyrling's mind. "Nah, I don' mean *now*..." Alida casually corrects Farideh. "He just got a case uv the itchies after I bathed 'im at the hot springs, so..." Shrug. Here she is, post-warm bath, standing in the slop to continue grooming her lifemate. Eyeroll. Oiling after this is a very likely thing...and will take even *more* time. As for the wyerling's assertion that all with her life is fine, well, Alida can't help but casting a longer, assessing look under her arms at the younger woman before returning to her 'work,' this time at Ilciaeth's offered neck. Looks like that itch is moving. "Far be it from me ta naysay anybody..." Smirk. "But bullshit." Called out! "Fine's fer little kids, boring people, yadda-yadda...but definitely *not* fer most weyrlings." Because Alida knows all? "Here's ta learnin' wha'cha need to well, an' gettin' the fuck out from under their thumbs." Roszadyth shares in the blue's enjoyment, with a girlish laugh and shifting sunlight, but just as suddenly-- retreats, her presence snipped away, as her narrow head swings around, wide-set eyes focusing on some point far off in the distance. It's Farideh who frowns, and shoves her hands through her hair irritably. "I can't-- it might be fine for everyone else to admit to, but I'm supposed to be--" Her words stop and she tenses, but then casts an inscrutable glance back towards the barracks. "They call. I'll catch you around?" Her brow is still furrowed as she waves and turns, not bothering to wait on Roszadyth, who is quick to backtrack onto the shore, ambling nimbly after her suddenly-slouchy lifemate. "Bullshit..." Alida notes just as dryly to Farideh once again, then muttering to her, "You share yer shit with those who prove themselves ta you...those ya honestly trust...so ya don't go fucking crazy." How joyful. "Game face fer everybody else. It's fuckin' hard, but..." Shrug. It must be done. Unless... the blonde grins a little wickedly over at the pausing weyrling. "Or ya do 'diplomatic' only when ya absolutely *need* to, and be yerself most uv the time. Pisses people off royally, unless yer a sugar-pea princess." Snicker. "Yeah..." is the bluie's call after Farideh's retreating back, while Ilicaeth seeks to give likewise-departing Roszadyth a fond little nudge to her hinder as she wades out to follow her lifemate. A farewell, a try at play...or a reason to scratch the itch that's re-developing on his nose? Who knows. |
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