Logs:Where The Heart Is
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| RL Date: 27 August, 2012 |
| Who: E'gin, Azaylia, Brieli |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Azaylia and Hraedhyth return to the Weyr after visiting family. |
| Where: Hraedhyth's Ledge/The Minds of Dragons, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 16, Month 8, Turn 29 (Interval 10) |
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| Hraedhyth's Ledge, High Reaches Weyr Turns of inclement weather and use have smoothed out niches here and there for a current occupant and perhaps a companion, on this slightly downward impressed ledge. It's otherwise unremarkable: large, of course, and low to the ground, though not so low as to provide ground access from here. Being so low, the view is not especially spectacular, though it does make an excellent point from which to keep a steady eye on goings on in the bowl, from the living caverns entrance to the north, and as far as glimpses of glimmering blue on the horizon from the weyr lake. Hraedhyth had allowed Azaylia enough time to reconnect with her family, to mend broken promises and make new ones. Ones that would be kept, else they be made liars... which of course is unacceptable. The gold may not have understood it all, but she did know her rider needed this. Needed to visit the place that had once been home, but is no longer. They are of High Reaches, now. Though, over the course of a few days the pangs which had plagued the rider had taken a severe hold of her dragon. Hraedhyth wanted to go back to their real home, and was far too eager when that moment finally came. Breaking from the frigid silence of between, Hraedhyth announces her arrival with several bellows of celebration. She is back, all rejoice! Or, don't. Little else matters beyond the stone she lands upon with that typical forceful grace. Her ledge. Her weyr. Her people. The excitable roar of her flame will eventually die down. Meanwhile, Azaylia is unloading the gifts from her family as well as unstrapping her lifemate. It's a slow process, with her ducking in and out of their weyr several times. The queen's tawny hide all but melts atop her ledge, stretched out to take up as much space as possible as she saturates those nearby with her bliss and relief. HOME. To Hraedhyth, Vysravth isn't usually one to begin conversation, but there he is, his familiar darkness settling in. Engulfing, but little bits of kindle litter the abandoned Weyr's floor, as high above tattered banners flicker, unseen - but heard in the gusty wind that occassionally whips across the deserted bowl. He's quite for a moment before his voice echoes off the walls. « It has been a while Lil' Queen. Howyoudoin'? » Several have already asked about her absence, and while the brown's presence itself is surprising, it is welcomed. A noticeable, possibly unsettling peace has fallen over the weyr during the last few days. A sign of Hreadhyth's prolonged absence, which has never happened before. It has been hours since the drums and fire have returned, sentimental flames licking over the minds of those who might welcome the young queen back home. Vysravth's darkness is as familiar and comforting as the sight of High Reaches' spires, « I am well. We are well. » Her rough voice is far richer than when they last spoke, sounding content. « You? » (Hraedhyth to Vysravth) Yes. Content. There is an easy confidence in the darkness, even as the wind dances bits of tinder toward the fire, it would be whimsical if not for the danger - But no one lives here, no one that would mind anyway. Stars flicker, casting dim light on to the bowl, drapes swoop across the stone walls, wooden instruments snapped and fragmented, the occassional forgotten slipper, all as if the place was abandoned in the middle of a gather. The scene made, perhaps, eerier by the happiness that traces the fringes of the brown's voice. « We are well. You have been gone. » Silence, the stars illuminating the all too flammable toys strewn across the bowl of Vysravth's mind. « We need to play, before you get too big for me to win. » A chuckle rumbles through the space, like thunder. (Vysravth to Hraedhyth) To Vysravth, Hraedhyth's fire is far too lively for her low, growling tones. It reveals her utter joy, the simple bliss of lounging on her ledge, being amongst her people. « Mine wanted to visit her old tribe. » Old, yet not forgotten. Still important, but of the past. The toys will be licked at by the gold's blaze, harmlessly singed at their edges but with no true urge to cause harm. Simply curious. « We will. » A promise, a threat. « After a bath. » One for the rider, and one for the dragon. « And oil. » The fire sizzles and crackles with delight at the prospect, shadows quaking and writhing across his weyr's walls. There is a moment before Vysravth responds, the occasional gust the only movement left in the darkness besides the gold's flames. A thoughtful growl rolls through. « Mine says his old clan came with him. Those that survived. » A slight girl, barely a teen, with dark cascading curls, and E'gin's dark eyes flashes into view for a brief moment. « He made his new clan bigger. » Pride reverberates through the brown's voice. Another small girl, maybe a little over a year, who bares the striking resemblance of Lujayn, flickers in and then disappears. « Yes. Oil. » A pleasure every dragon knows, and darkness settles back in so the shadow show can continue. (Vysravth to Hraedhyth) Each flash, each offered image of E'gin's clan are brightened by her warmth, be they old or new. Numbers for High Reaches. Good stock. Hraedhyth's mood might be a touch too saccharine, filling the cavern with a touch of spicy, cinnamon incense. Or more likely, sweetly smoked meats. The shadows leap and itch, trying to find relief against his craggy walls but only oil can soothe them. « You are welcme to come sit with me. » Yes, sit on her ledge. Not snuggle so tight as to feel claustrophobic and smothered. Okay, yes, exactly that. (Hraedhyth to Vysravth) This smell, filling the hollows of his mind is new. Sweet and spicy, meat and spices. Like E'gin cooking fish, but different, better, perhaps because of the invitation which is extended. An easy stillness settles into the darkness between flickering shadows, the brown considering this new mood of her's, these new welcoming smells of her's - at least to him. Adding only the hint of well-aged whiskey to the aroma filling the room, Vysravth's voice, low like a distant storm, « I will come, Lil' Queen. » (Vysravth to Hraedhyth) When was the last time Hraedhyth has experienced such joy? It isn't as though the gold is truly all fire and brimstone, there have been moments of happiness before this. Perhaps it takes only a few days away for the dragon to appreciate what is as much a part of her as Azaylia is. « Good. » A firm strike of her drums, making a point of that simple word. Her drape across the ledge is a possessive one, with just enough room for Vysravth to land. Her good cheer does nothing to soften the force in which she snares him, grown bulk used to forcefully curl up against the still larger brown. The mood should be enjoyed while it lasts. (Hraedhyth to Vysravth) It may seem a little backwards, Azaylia's bath proceeding Hraedhyth's own as well as her oiling. It could be that Vysravth is a comfort of home that prolongs her patience, snuggling into him and resting her head where he allows. For once, the young gold is content to remain still and soak up the fading rays of Rukbat's light. She does not test her current companion's patience by gnawing on his headknobs, however tempted she may be. He's in luck, as Iesaryth proves to be an effective distraction. Though Iesaryth's skies are darkened with clouds and her bright ocean is dull and stormy with large, ominous swells, she's still noticed Hraedhyth's absence and arrival; it's just that it took her a little longer than usual to reach out, to check in. Dark water creeps up the beach, curious still. « Is all well, Hraedhyth? » With she and hers, obviously. (Iesaryth to Hraedhyth) To Iesaryth, Hraedhyth has nothing but warmth for her Sister. An excessive amount. Rather than show any alarm for uncharacteristically dark skies and choppy waves, she will instead share the light of her fire pits. They are not as bright as Iesaryth's sun, but they are there and the flames are persistent upon her beaten shores. « Yes. I am home. » That should be enough to explain her mood, the one she offers as comfort to the younger gold. « You are not? » If it's darkness she finds comforting, the warrior will share Vysravth's pitch. She's visibly curled up with the brown on her own ledge. To Hraedhyth, Iesaryth likes the fire and the warmth, in particular; it echoes in a way that's bittersweet, for some reason she can't sort out, can't entirely remember. Flames can reflect in the high seas and dark waves, though they don't sparkle in the same way. « All is well at not-home, though? » Wherever she went. The younger of the two isn't apparent on her own ledge, unusual, but: « We are here. » To Iesaryth, Hraedhyth is not as boisterous as usual, perhaps not fully recovered from her bout of homesickness. It is likely for the best, given the state Iesaryth seems to be in. « Yes. It was good. » She answers simply, drums thundering over the dunes, befitting the dark waves and weather. « Has something happened? » The pounding slows as the idea sinks in, fire burning a little hotter, black wisps escaping. « What is wrong. » A demand, drums now accompanied by a low growl. Still, not as quick to anger, stifled by the hazy bliss of High Reaches Weyr. « It is hard for you to be away from here. » Iesaryth hasn't realized this yet, but then - when has Hraedhyth had to be away from High Reaches for any length of time? Neither of them have been away for an extended period, not since she'd arrived, so there's a touch of surprise - though not complete shock. « I am glad. » And she is, that her sister liked traveling. As for something... the sunburst gold is not a good liar, nor a good hedger. « Nothing has /happened/. » Yet. « But that Elaruth rose. » It's good homecoming is happiness, as the roar and crash of the waves can't be called soothing - not as much as usual. (Iesaryth to Hraedhyth) To Iesaryth, Hraedhyth does not lie, but even more than that she has no need to hide her feelings from Iesaryth. « It hurts. » A phantom sting deep in the heart of her flames. « I will travel. I will know foreign lands. » Drums are steady as if to back up such declarations, perhaps to ensure that her sentiment not be taken as weakness. « Still, this is where we belong. » The dark smoke curls with relief at nothing having happened to her sister gold. It extends further, carrying with it the scent of burning confusion. « She is Fort's Matriarch. » That's what they do. « Why does this upset you? » It is the way things are for their kind. It's not necessarily Iesaryth's emotions that she hides or shields, but when they're so closely connected to their human counterpart... But what Iesaryth is feeling that she'll share is primarily concern... and some little guilt and disappointment. To reassure, « I know, Hraedhyth. You are just close to your home. Our home. There is nothing wrong with that. » Sharp sea winds attempt to blow away that confusion, the best she can, « It does not upset me. » But. « We went to the ocean and Isyath and hers were there. She does not speak. » Or not to her. Anyway... « There was discussion. It is difficult to sort out, but. She is displeased. » (Iesaryth to Hraedhyth) To Iesaryth, Hraedhyth thrums with pride at the other gold's choice of words. Ours. Hers, Azaylia's, Iesaryth's and Brieli's. Yes. As it should be. All is well, even if it isn't truly, what with the other's mindscape still gloomy and rough. « Alpha has mentioned this Isyath. » But that is all the warrior knows. For now. A Fortian is involved, though not the one she expects. Unable to understand, her flames dot the dark shores and offer a sweet burn of something like incense. Something to soothe. « Does she wish to speak to mine? » Still offering support. Tone and cadence sounding closer to her Brieli's than to her own, though the words are Iesaryth's: « She might have said hello. » It's polite, isn't it? And perhaps there's more Fortians involved, though there's no sense in getting Hraedhyth upset, when - like her sister says, reassures - nothing has yet really happened. Appreciating the efforts, the seas perhaps less rough as time goes on, though no less gloomy, « Not now. But thank you. She will. She would like to hear of your travel. » (Iesaryth to Hraedhyth) To Iesaryth, Hraedhyth's flames flicker with a gust of surprise. « She did not? » Talking is one thing, they have many Reachian kin that are not fond of conversation. The lack of a greeting, however, is another matter. Rude. « Perhaps she has not been properly taught. » Less of an excuse on the foreigner's behalf, and more of a link torn from her Sire's chains. We are better. « Whenever Yours wants. » Offered gently, strength concentrated on keeping the pits bright and warm while still giving her Sister space. She is here. They both are. « Perhaps. » Anything is possible, though Iesaryth hasn't found herself to be too unwelcome here and there, but for a few notable exceptions. She won't take that link - she's reluctant to take any of them, to be honest - but she can use it to be charitable, at least. More so than either Hraedhyth or her Brieli might be. « When she is ready. » It will take time. The warmth and fire is appreciated, and though she does not say much more, she lingers there, finding some comfort in the light. (Iesaryth to Hraedhyth) |
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