Logs:The Adventures of Zay and Beep
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| RL Date: 25 May, 2012 |
| Who: Azaylia, Braeden, Issedi, Bepin, Niska |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr, High Reaches Hold |
| Type: Log |
| What: Azaylia goes to the High Reaches Hold party/gather in celebration of the recognition of the exiles Bloodlines. |
| Where: High Reaches Hold |
| When: Day 15, Month 11, Turn 28 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Aughan/Mentions, Devaki/Mentions, Hypatia/Mentions, Tiriana/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: ST'd by Iolene. |
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| It is an autumn morning, 11:57 of day 15, month 11, turn 28 of Interval 10. To say things between the Holds and the Weyr have been on edge in the last few turns is perhaps an understatement. First there was the issue of the exiles, then the confinement of the exiles, then the kidnapping of Tillek's heir, the recognition of the exiles, and now the break up of an alliance between High Reaches Hold and Crom Hold and the Weyr caught in the middle. Add to this, Lord Aughan's claim on Issedi being supplanted by an exile and well... The Hold, however, is making merry of all these events, at least on the outside. There are gay banners strewn and tents pitched for this brisk autumn day, as crafters and non-crafters alike hawk their wares. The harpers play merry songs and the general aura is festive. Dragonriders land on the outskirts, bringing in guests, as well as being guests themselves in certain cases, with a number of exile riders having Impressed in Rielsath's most recent clutch, bringing the unImpressed exiles to the Hold. Without the wind whipping past them, Azaylia's dragonrider escort is finally able to hear the pitiful whimpers against his shoulder. It takes even longer for her arms to stop crushing his ribs. "Sorry- I didn't, ah, hurt you? Just s-so high- uhm, m'gonna go." Dismount from the blue's back is clumsy, the love for her only 'fancy' dress keeping her on two feet. "Thank you." Though her attention is brought back to the blue and gold gown of hers, smoothing palms down along the old fabric, steps already bringing her closer to the heart of the festivities. Long, lazy curls are left just as they are, spilling down her back and framing her face, as well as the baby blue scarf she wears- pinned with a glass badge of High Reaches Weyr. Quiet, but proud. Another candidate dismounts somewhere near Azaylia, Niska - a tall, blonde girl known for her jovial attitude. As Azaylia steps away, Niska steps forward, concern etched into her pale green eyes. "You doing ok? Need a hand?" And without really asking for permission, the broad girl slips her arm around the former herder's. "It gets easier with time, but I've also grown up around dragons and my mum, she let me fly around with her on her green to help me get over a fear of frights." A beat passes. "Are you sure you're ok?" There is resistance against Niska's helpful touch, physical and short lived that it is as Azaylia's fright fades. "O-oh! Fine." Muscles relax, resting easily within the other candidate's arm. "I just- it's not so bad, if you keep your eyes shut." And to think, three or so turns ago she would have fainted at the idea of riding dragonback. Niska's insistance has her eyes widening slightly, a blink and headtilt, "Do I look not-okay?" Worry wriggles it's way into her gentle tone. Her footsteps may have slowed to accomodate the other girl, but they're still steadily approaching the celebration. "You just looked a little peaked. Like a lot of people who aren't used to riding dragonback" opines Niska, but not in any kind of critical way. The easy-going blonde quickens to try and match Azaylia's as they head into the throng. "It's kind of nice to be able to leave the Weyr like this, though I don't really understand how this is something to be celebrated." A group of rugrats race by, the leader of the gang peeling laughter in his wake. Soon, a baker's quick to be chasing after them waving a spatula: "If I catch you around my bubblies again, you can be sure I'll give your ears a good boxing!" "Well, Brueth was a very nice blue. But he went r-really fast." To make up for lost time. That dragonrider will have quite a story for later. A tale of the candidate who wanted to have a half hour conversation (interview?) with his dragon before leaving. With the rider as translator, of course. Even as she speaks, her warm cheeks are regaining their healthy color as she recovers from the ride. "I do love parties." Says the wallflower, without a hint of sarcasm in her voice. Momentarily distracted by the baker's hollaring, it takes longer for her to realize what Niska's said. "Uhm? It's a happy time for the ex- the Islanders." They were bound to celebrate anyway. "Them?" Niska's flat nose lifts with all the inate condescension of being mainland born and bred. "I suppose. It must be nice for them, but I didn't think the Hold would throw a whole gather for them on top of it. I do wonder though," begins the chatty girl, who lapses into sudden silence as they pass a pair of old aunties, sitting under a shaded tent. It's as if the aunties are reading Niska's mind, or the actual talk of the gather is those islanders. "I hear the old holder from River Bend is livid saying his family has held for turns now and recognizing their claims will just bring more trouble to the area." The other woman shakes her head and clucks, "And think of that poor girl Issedi. Match of the century with Aughan, and now married to someone who has nothing to his name. What could Braeden be thinking? Certainly nothing like his father." Niska absorbs and looks sympathetic, her chin turning so she might espy Azaylia's reaction all the better. Azaylia attempts a small smile, the only thing an optimist really has at her disposal. "I think it's nice of the Hold. Like... when a family has a celebration for a new baby." Only these are not babies, and there's a lot of them. What Niska wonders is left to the wind as those aunties pass, and the candidate doesn't have the sense to not follow them with her whole head. She may go unnoticed, may not, but only when their words dissolve into distant buzzing does Azaylia turn to the other girl with a faintly furrowed brow. "Issedi is nice. It looked like she was having fun at the clutching party. Without Lord Aughan." Though the insult and slap are not mentioned, whether on purpose or likely forgotten. Niska's green eyes sharpen upon Azaylia briefly, and some of that good nature she's known for diminishes. She does, however, manage a more nonchalant departure though, as that broad hand and arm relinquishes Azaylia's, "I think I see my aunt over there. She's a cook in the Hold here, you know. I'll see you later." The void Niska was once in is filled with a passing series of people, a man in grimy clothes squeezing past to get somewhere, while a young girl, clearly a dairy maid by the smell of her makes at least the pretense of apology as she moves around Azaylia. The conversation that swirls seems to be mostly about the new status of the islanders, and yet, there's a tidbit from a cluster of folk not far from where the herder stands: "... fucking crazy, that woman. I've heard healers have been in to see her and they say she's actually mad." Azaylia embodies that of an abandoned puppy once she realizes what's just happened. Which takes some time. Eyes try to pluck the long-gone Niska out, heavy lump settling in her stomach at having said something to bring on such a nice girl's dismissal. Excuse mes are offered with weak mumbles, attempting to shake off the lingering discomfort from moments earlier. Harsh language grabs her attention far more than it should, dark eyes shifting towards the group of people. Lips thin into a line, and she continues on her way which has her walking past the cluster. Though this time the young woman has enough sense not to stare at anything but down at her boots. "Hey." Two furtive little brown eyes peek up behind a haystack, just below a mop of brown. "Hey. Watch where you're going. You're about to-," and then it might be too late. Looking down at your boots might be good for avoidance of people in the social sense, but it doesn't help when a well-dressed man deep in conversation with his sister is about to run into you. Old but freshly shined boots are replaced with the haystack, or rather the pair of eyes peering over them as Azaylia turns to look. Much like everything that day, the warning takes longer to sink in. She takes heed just in time to look up and see how nice the clothes are that she bumps into. Sturdy young woman that she is, the step backwards is voluntary, giving the person she's assulted room. "I'msoverysorry!" All in one squeak, and then slower and even more mortified. "Are you alright?" Caught off guard, the sibling pair turn to the girl they've, or rather Braeden, has just bumped into. Issedi hides a small smile behind her lifted hand, though her eyes are kind. Braeden, however, laughs and reaches out a hand to try and steady Azaylia, should she need it. "We're so sorry for not paying attention to where we were going. Are you steady?" His hand hovers, just in case. And then, in a lower voice that's a faux teasing whisper, making the pretense that Issedi's not supposed to overhear, he adds, "Sometimes, when siblings fight, you can't see anything but red in front of your eyes." Azaylia is stable, yes. Being frozen out of sheer terror makes one quite steady. She knows who they are, that much is obvious by widened eyes and thinning, tight lips. But then, "Mmhn!" Some communication is attempted, knees buckling in an accidental bow, dipping in front of the pair before she manages to straighten up. "L-lord Braeden! Lady Issedi!" The joke is meant to be cute, and a giggle is appropriate. Nerves have her laugh just a touch too loud, managing not to sound too forced- just terrified. "Ahm... Congratulations, Lady Issedi." As if just remembering the other reason to celebrate and clinging to that fact for dear life. Issedi's hand drops, fluttering down to her chest and then back to her side. A small nod graciously accepts the felicitations, but somehow, she's a lot less convivial than at the Reaches clutching festivities. Braeden, on the other hand, is all smiles at Azaylia's nervousness. His own arm reaches back to reclaim his sister's, but not before he spares the High Reaches Weyr resident, as per the badge that pins her scarf, some words, "You look lovely today and do your Weyr justice. I hope you have a good time." And then the Blooded pair walk past Azaylia. The mop-headed boy who whispered looks up again and skitters out from around the haystack, stopping short of the herder and looking up in awe. "My mum always told me to stay out of important people's sights and you just ran right into the lord!" Azaylia beams at the compliment. Her Weyr. Jubilation is enough of a high to dull her other, more frantic emotions, "Thank you, Sir. H-have a wondeful day." Words of duty and formalities are lost, forgotten for now. Only when she's left alone in the crowd does it all come crashing down, legs turned to mush and causing her to stumble. She lands roughly on the haystack, color draining from her face for the second time that day and yet her smile remains. "I know." Azaylia squeaks towards the lad, wearing her own awe plainly on her face. "Y-your mama sounds... very, very smart." The solemn-faced boy, smeared a little with the grime of his rambunctious lifestyle, looks down upon Azaylia in that haystack. An equally solemn little hand emerges from beneath the cuff of his oddly clean shirt. "Mama's smart, but I'm smarter," he says with all the importance of a young boy on the cusp of - well greatness. Eventually. If he'll ever survive to see that day. "Wanna see my secret?" Azaylia doesn't quite trust her legs yet, more than happy to sit there for a little longer. Hands are careful in resting atop the pointy straw, leaning back and looking more like the herder she once was than a respectable lady. As the lad speaks with the typical confidence of a youngster, her eyes lift, "Oh? I don't know if you should say something like that.." Stutter gone, saved for those who have a bit more pull in her own life. Children are harmless... right? "...secret?" Head turns away though her eyes remain on the boy, wary without knowing why just yet. His hand waves in that space between them with all the impatience of a six year old trying to be as patient as he can be for someone who should know better. "Come on. I can show you. I mean, you're really brave to just run into a Lord like that, so I think you should know about my secret too." "Brave?" Clearly he doesn't know Azayali. And he shouldn't, what with being a strange child that she's just met and all. But oh, he wants her to go somewhere? She's slow to stand, making sure that her legs are stead before straightening to her full height. Much to the boy's impatient dismay, she'll also take some time in dusting her rump free of straw and smoothing out her dress. "There," She'll announce, looking towards the child with a patience smile. "Lead the way." Humoring him sounds far less stressful than trying to socialize at a gather. "I'm Bepin, but my friends call me Beep." Pleased that she'll be following him, and mindful that she is, after all, a lady, Beep makes a slow way around the gather and towards the Hold itself. Knowing how to navigate the various alleyways and side paths means he manages to avoid most people who might be suspicious of what he's up to. "What do they call you? Your friends I mean." But maybe he realizes something, for he darts a look back as they start walking in between two stone walls, the ground a little muddy at their feet. "You do have friends, right?" Azaylia can barely manage not to coo right there at the boy's nickname. Instead, she'll place her fingertips against her lips and just smile largly behind her palm. "Beep." She echoes, unable to completely rid her voice of a giggle. It's not to mock him, that much is obvious as she begins to follow him. "Ah... Azaylia, is my name." At his prompting, she flusters futher, "Y-yes! I do. Uhm, one calls me Zay." If he's looking for a nickname, and it's one she's particularly fond of. The mud earns a glance down, plucking up her dress though it comes nowhere near her ankles. Just in case. "Zay.' He consider this, saying it aloud, and then repeats it, "Zay." Apparently, it satisfies his six year old tendencies long enough for him to be silent as he creeps along this stone enclosure to a little spot at the end. "Shhh." Bepin's finger comes up to his lips and he turns wide eyed to the herder, as if to emphasize his directive. Even his brash little voice has lowered somewhat. "Over here." And a stubby finger points to a loose stone in the wall, that he then slowly pulls out and places it on the ground below. Beyond this stone, a Holder's private garden is visible; a beautiful affair of meticulously cared for trees and plants. There are flowers that are a little out of season, somehow maintaining their life due to the care given. Purple and orange blooms crest down from gnarled tree limbs. Each repeat of her Hypatia-given nickname has her smiling, though she remains quiet for the most part. It makes his shushing unnecessary but no less adorable, her own finger touching to her lips to show that she understands. The wall certainly isn't what she's expecting, and that smile fades to make way for obvious confusion. She does her best to keep her footfalls quiet, creeping up to the wall and looking concerned when he pulls the loose stone out completely. "You shouldn't-" All set for a quiet scolding until the clash of orange and purple catches her eye. "Ohh.." Whispered awe escapes in an exhale, leaning forward and peering further into the garden. "My secret," says the boy earnestly. "Isn't it pretty? And plus, from here, I can see all the pretty ladies and lords and not be near them so I'm still listening to mama." Obey the law, but not necessarily the letter of it apparently. Bepin beams upward, a little proud. Within the garden, a door opening and closing sounds and low words are exchanged with one man, who then passes it on to the others and the gardeners who were tending the garden so discreetly, exit, leaving this little spot of unlikely beauty in all the stone of a Hold tranquil once more. Azaylia spares a glance towards Bepin, smiling in agreement that his secret is indeed very pretty. Reluctant to pull her eyes away for long, she's back to staring, head shifting left and right in order to see the variety of flowers. "We don't have flowers like that one at the weyr." Said when her gaze falls on a particularly bright blue blossom. As the gardeners suddenly begin to leave, it's the candidate's turn to shush the lad, however gently. Any of their quet exchanges could be heard in the silent tranquility, and she doesn't want little Beep to get in trouble. But she won't leave just yet, taking in what she can through the hole in the wall. The door again opens, two sets of steps heard as they make their way into the center of the garden, where a small stone pavilion is. Two male voices speaking quietly to each other; just the murmur of words at first that turn into more affectionate endearments. The bright blossoms Azaylia is fascinated with obscure much of the two figures, but a glimpse of a crimson cloak here and a flash of navy blue pants there can be seen. Bepin turns wide eyes up at Azaylia again and then says in his quietest voice so far. "This is my other secret." Azaylia listens to the sets of footprints, eyes looking to pluck out the owners before the thought that she's spying even crosses her mind. It still doesn't. Both masculine tones turning affectionate have her brows lifting high, and rather than pull away, she's trying to angle and get a better look. And now it dawns on her that she's invading their privacy. "It's not every nice to spy on people." Already quiet voice is barely auidble now, even as her eyes are drawn back towards the garden. She's not quite sure what it is that they're peeking at, still. The second voice becomes more distinctive. It's too familiar. A voice heard just moments ago. It pricks in your senses and causes that sensation of double-take, with its kindness. Its gentle ease and camaraderie, even in such an intimate moment as cradling his partner's chin to lean down for a kiss. Bepin tiptoes to stare at this, those brown eyes orbing wider and then he ducks down again. "You can't tell. Mama says it would be bad for the Hold if anyone knew. You can't tell." But six year olds, well... they're human and human nature is in even them. The insistent whisper clouds this anxious need to tell, for someone else, other than his mama, to know. Azaylia, for all her quiet manners and easily shocked nature can't manage an utterance for what she's found out. Lips bounce in an attempt to speak before they simply hang there, useless. Which is probably for the best. Picking her jaw up and closing it tight, she can only muster a slow shake of her head for Bepin. "I won't." She finally manages, careful in standing and motioning for Beep to follow- her hand offered should he want to hold it. "You can't tell anyone else? Okay. It's just a secret for you, your Mama and me. Okay?" There's an ernest note in her own whispers, hoping that this time the warning sticks. The little boy's face scrunches up. As if he'd tell. But there's also a note of disappointment. "Okay." But remember, this is a boy who obeys the rules but not quite the letter of them and as he moves away slowly, back to the gather, he's more sullen than when he brought Azaylia to show off his secret. "Thank you," Azaylia will add as an afterthought when they've moved further away from the private moment and can talk a bit more freely. "For showing me." If he hasn't taken her hand for a squeeze, she'll reach over and give his moptop a ruffle. If that doesn't do the trick, then when they're closer to the gather she does her best to brighten. "I have a spare mark or two- if you want to split a bubbly? We've gotta find a tent that's just taken them out, though." She imparts that bit of bakery wisdom with a little wink. Azaylia is more than happy to keep Bepin in her company for as long as he can stand it. The candidate will continue to enjoy her visit to the Hold, as well as the celebration, quietly supportive of both reasons. While others may not. |
Comments
Brieli (Brieli) left a comment on Sat, 26 May 2012 01:31:09 GMT.
Whoa. </Keanu>
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