Friendly-er. More friendly-est!
RL Date: 5/6/09
IC Date: Doesn't matter :)
Dragon> To Wyaeth, Chielyth stre-et-tch-es out to smoke-and-gravel, birdsong and the smell of moss proceeding her. << Wyyyyyaeth? >>
Dragon> To Chielyth, Wyaeth, on the verge of a nap, is slow to stir, slow to rustle himself to alertness there. Finally, settling like a dustdevil on its last spin; << Howdy, li'l girl. >>
Dragon> To Wyaeth, Chielyth found him, yay! << I found you, >> she repeats, all wriggly-proud of herself, and creeps to a distance that might maybe be far enough away to keep Wyaeth from getting girl-cooties. << I'm flying! Are you flying? And Elaruth went away to her own ledge but she still talks to me! >>
Dragon> Bemusing question. Does he seem like he's flying? Given the whole just-woke-up feel. << Right now you're flying? >> (Wyaeth to Chielyth)
Dragon> To Wyaeth, Chielyth sparkles laughter, like sunlight on a brook. No, not -now-! She offers an image instead, scribbly-crayon blues and browns vroom-wooshing overhead through the autumn afternoon sunshine. Not her, though. Chielyth-the-green-blob is hip-deep in the lake, getting waaaaaashed.
Dragon> So Wyaeth's not real good with his images, he can admit this. They're always blurry and dusty and messed up, but those? << Howcome you can't see right, sugar? >> (Wyaeth to Chielyth)
Dragon> The green has to think about that for a minute, meanwhile sneaking closer when she thinks the bronze isn't paying attention. << What do you mean? --OH! Are you here? Did you come to visit me? >> Yay yay yay! The birds erupt into a dawn chorus of glee. << Where are you? I will come look, once I am done with my bath! >> (Chielyth to Wyaeth)
Dragon> To Chielyth, Wyaeth, quick-like, << Naw. I'm restin'. >> By the laziness in that drawl, it's something he does a lot of. << I mean-- >> He tries, in a very gritty way, to emulate the weird way Chielyth sees things, sends things. It doesn't work so good, more like charcoal, less like crayons, but the effort's there?
Dragon> To Wyaeth, Chielyth's birds settle back to their branches, disappear into the foliage and silence. << Oh, >> she says of resting, and gives the idea a prod or two to see if it will do anything more interesting. His charcoal sketches are nice and all, but wouldn't they be prettier with some color? Tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth, heels kicked above her head, she takes it on herself to do just that. Blue up here, this dragon is green...
Dragon> To Chielyth, Wyaeth ... There's really no other way to describe the pause but dot-dot-dot. << You sure you're big enough to fly? >> he asks doubtfully, trying to recall the green-blob from earlier and focus it into something that gives him some sense of scale?
Dragon> /Oh/ yes, she can fly! With no images to fuss with her sendings are clearer: the feel of air under wings is unmistakable, as is the stomach-jolting drop of a caught-in-time dive. Isn't that -fun-? (Chielyth to Wyaeth)
Dragon> To Chielyth, Wyaeth draws back from that caught-in-time dive, removes himself from her little flying story so it doesn't... envelop him... quite so much. He's more the-- long, slow, steady sweep of relentless wings-- not little daring ones. << Flyin's different. >>
Dragon> << Is it? Why? >> If -Wyaeth- isn't going to swoop-dive, she'll have to do it one last time by herself before settling down again. << Are you going to come visit me, Wyaeth? Maybe we could fly together! Imoth and Mikhuth and Kai and everyone say I am a very good flyer! >> (Chielyth to Wyaeth)
Dragon> To Chielyth, Wyaeth sees no point in blowing 'em up big before he pops 'em. << Nope. >> Arid, that. << You got plenty for flyin' with, sounds like. >> (Because she is kinda sweet and maybe he doesn't want to stomp all over her little hearts-and-flowers dreams?)
Dragon> To Wyaeth, Chielyth doesn't pout, but she does turn all determined and serious, putting away the yellow and orange for somber navy and ocher. << But I -like- flying with you. >> Wyaeth's smoke is layers on layers of grey in her mind, his gravel sussurrations khaki and brown and dove. << Maybe we could fly together? By ourselves? >> And then Wyaeth wouldn't have to be shy.
Dragon> To Chielyth, Wyaeth projects, << S'too far. >> The very high, dark, snowy peaks of the 'Reaches and a long glance of haze, of cloud-cover, somewhere looking far far far south toward where Fort'd be if he could see that far. << You'd never make it all the way. >>
Dragon> << But -you- could. >> Because he is Wyaeth, and he can do -anything-, she just knows it! << Ooh! And Wyaeth, maybe you could come see my ledge if I have a ledge when you come visit! >> The other idea, of Wyaeth coming to see her in the barracks, isn't quite as nifty to contemplate. (Chielyth to Wyaeth)
Dragon> Since she didn't seem to get it the first time; << Nope. >> /Home/, those cold-high-peaks. << Don't care much for where you're at, sugar. >> (Wyaeth to Chielyth)
Dragon> To Wyaeth, Chielyth ohs again and wriggles a little closer. There's no such thing as 'too close for comfort', not for her. << Well... then I will come see you! When I am bigger! >> Immediately the birds chirr agreement, and the sun has burnt off the clouds, yay! << Imoth says when I am bigger I can go -lots- of places! >>
Dragon> To Chielyth, Wyaeth just about pats her on her cheery little head, his tone is so freaking condescending. << Accourse you will, kiddo. We'll keep an eye out for ya. >> So he'll know when to run?
Dragon> If he can pat her on the head, that must mean she's just about close enough to snuggle! << Okay! >> she agrees immediately, << Then we can fly together, and you can show me the sunny spots, and we'll be friends! Friendly-er! More friendly-est!! >> (Chielyth to Wyaeth)
Dragon> To Chielyth, Wyaeth tosses out a brief indication of today's weather, gray and overcast and no chance of sunshine; sorry, sugar. Unsaid but implied: it's pretty much always like this.
Dragon> To Wyaeth, Chielyth ohs again at the lack of sun. But... um... OH! << We can go look for the sun! >> There's -always- sun.
Dragon> Criminey, she's persistent. << Prolly not. >> (Wyaeth to Chielyth)
Dragon> And adorable. Don't forget that. << Oh, >> she says again, and would squinch up her nose to think, if dragons had extra skin. << Well, we can do something else, then. Don't forget, now! >> (Chielyth to Wyaeth)
Dragon> To Chielyth, Wyaeth's memory... he looks back-- looks back-- gets no further than a day or two, maybe three? Yeah, he was eatin' around this time three days ago. << Try not to, >> is the best he can do.
Dragon> To Wyaeth, Chielyth projects, << OK! >> But whoops, she has to go now. << Mikhuth says we're going flying now, ok? Bye, Wyaeth!! >>
Dragon> Again, << Good luck, kiddo. >> (Wyaeth to Chielyth)
IC Date: Doesn't matter :)
Dragon> To Wyaeth, Chielyth stre-et-tch-es out to smoke-and-gravel, birdsong and the smell of moss proceeding her. << Wyyyyyaeth? >>
Dragon> To Chielyth, Wyaeth, on the verge of a nap, is slow to stir, slow to rustle himself to alertness there. Finally, settling like a dustdevil on its last spin; << Howdy, li'l girl. >>
Dragon> To Wyaeth, Chielyth found him, yay! << I found you, >> she repeats, all wriggly-proud of herself, and creeps to a distance that might maybe be far enough away to keep Wyaeth from getting girl-cooties. << I'm flying! Are you flying? And Elaruth went away to her own ledge but she still talks to me! >>
Dragon> Bemusing question. Does he seem like he's flying? Given the whole just-woke-up feel. << Right now you're flying? >> (Wyaeth to Chielyth)
Dragon> To Wyaeth, Chielyth sparkles laughter, like sunlight on a brook. No, not -now-! She offers an image instead, scribbly-crayon blues and browns vroom-wooshing overhead through the autumn afternoon sunshine. Not her, though. Chielyth-the-green-blob is hip-deep in the lake, getting waaaaaashed.
Dragon> So Wyaeth's not real good with his images, he can admit this. They're always blurry and dusty and messed up, but those? << Howcome you can't see right, sugar? >> (Wyaeth to Chielyth)
Dragon> The green has to think about that for a minute, meanwhile sneaking closer when she thinks the bronze isn't paying attention. << What do you mean? --OH! Are you here? Did you come to visit me? >> Yay yay yay! The birds erupt into a dawn chorus of glee. << Where are you? I will come look, once I am done with my bath! >> (Chielyth to Wyaeth)
Dragon> To Chielyth, Wyaeth, quick-like, << Naw. I'm restin'. >> By the laziness in that drawl, it's something he does a lot of. << I mean-- >> He tries, in a very gritty way, to emulate the weird way Chielyth sees things, sends things. It doesn't work so good, more like charcoal, less like crayons, but the effort's there?
Dragon> To Wyaeth, Chielyth's birds settle back to their branches, disappear into the foliage and silence. << Oh, >> she says of resting, and gives the idea a prod or two to see if it will do anything more interesting. His charcoal sketches are nice and all, but wouldn't they be prettier with some color? Tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth, heels kicked above her head, she takes it on herself to do just that. Blue up here, this dragon is green...
Dragon> To Chielyth, Wyaeth ... There's really no other way to describe the pause but dot-dot-dot. << You sure you're big enough to fly? >> he asks doubtfully, trying to recall the green-blob from earlier and focus it into something that gives him some sense of scale?
Dragon> /Oh/ yes, she can fly! With no images to fuss with her sendings are clearer: the feel of air under wings is unmistakable, as is the stomach-jolting drop of a caught-in-time dive. Isn't that -fun-? (Chielyth to Wyaeth)
Dragon> To Chielyth, Wyaeth draws back from that caught-in-time dive, removes himself from her little flying story so it doesn't... envelop him... quite so much. He's more the-- long, slow, steady sweep of relentless wings-- not little daring ones. << Flyin's different. >>
Dragon> << Is it? Why? >> If -Wyaeth- isn't going to swoop-dive, she'll have to do it one last time by herself before settling down again. << Are you going to come visit me, Wyaeth? Maybe we could fly together! Imoth and Mikhuth and Kai and everyone say I am a very good flyer! >> (Chielyth to Wyaeth)
Dragon> To Chielyth, Wyaeth sees no point in blowing 'em up big before he pops 'em. << Nope. >> Arid, that. << You got plenty for flyin' with, sounds like. >> (Because she is kinda sweet and maybe he doesn't want to stomp all over her little hearts-and-flowers dreams?)
Dragon> To Wyaeth, Chielyth doesn't pout, but she does turn all determined and serious, putting away the yellow and orange for somber navy and ocher. << But I -like- flying with you. >> Wyaeth's smoke is layers on layers of grey in her mind, his gravel sussurrations khaki and brown and dove. << Maybe we could fly together? By ourselves? >> And then Wyaeth wouldn't have to be shy.
Dragon> To Chielyth, Wyaeth projects, << S'too far. >> The very high, dark, snowy peaks of the 'Reaches and a long glance of haze, of cloud-cover, somewhere looking far far far south toward where Fort'd be if he could see that far. << You'd never make it all the way. >>
Dragon> << But -you- could. >> Because he is Wyaeth, and he can do -anything-, she just knows it! << Ooh! And Wyaeth, maybe you could come see my ledge if I have a ledge when you come visit! >> The other idea, of Wyaeth coming to see her in the barracks, isn't quite as nifty to contemplate. (Chielyth to Wyaeth)
Dragon> Since she didn't seem to get it the first time; << Nope. >> /Home/, those cold-high-peaks. << Don't care much for where you're at, sugar. >> (Wyaeth to Chielyth)
Dragon> To Wyaeth, Chielyth ohs again and wriggles a little closer. There's no such thing as 'too close for comfort', not for her. << Well... then I will come see you! When I am bigger! >> Immediately the birds chirr agreement, and the sun has burnt off the clouds, yay! << Imoth says when I am bigger I can go -lots- of places! >>
Dragon> To Chielyth, Wyaeth just about pats her on her cheery little head, his tone is so freaking condescending. << Accourse you will, kiddo. We'll keep an eye out for ya. >> So he'll know when to run?
Dragon> If he can pat her on the head, that must mean she's just about close enough to snuggle! << Okay! >> she agrees immediately, << Then we can fly together, and you can show me the sunny spots, and we'll be friends! Friendly-er! More friendly-est!! >> (Chielyth to Wyaeth)
Dragon> To Chielyth, Wyaeth tosses out a brief indication of today's weather, gray and overcast and no chance of sunshine; sorry, sugar. Unsaid but implied: it's pretty much always like this.
Dragon> To Wyaeth, Chielyth ohs again at the lack of sun. But... um... OH! << We can go look for the sun! >> There's -always- sun.
Dragon> Criminey, she's persistent. << Prolly not. >> (Wyaeth to Chielyth)
Dragon> And adorable. Don't forget that. << Oh, >> she says again, and would squinch up her nose to think, if dragons had extra skin. << Well, we can do something else, then. Don't forget, now! >> (Chielyth to Wyaeth)
Dragon> To Chielyth, Wyaeth's memory... he looks back-- looks back-- gets no further than a day or two, maybe three? Yeah, he was eatin' around this time three days ago. << Try not to, >> is the best he can do.
Dragon> To Wyaeth, Chielyth projects, << OK! >> But whoops, she has to go now. << Mikhuth says we're going flying now, ok? Bye, Wyaeth!! >>
Dragon> Again, << Good luck, kiddo. >> (Wyaeth to Chielyth)