Wyaeth still likes Vrianth, dammit.
RL Date: 7/17/09
IC Date: 7/3/20 --I lost the very last pose. It was a good one, too. :( Edit: Thanks, Leova! Added it. :D
Dragon> Electric impulses charge the air, hunting, hunting... and then, << Wyaeth. >> (Vrianth to Wyaeth)
Dragon> To Vrianth, Wyaeth makes sure Vrianth's quite aware how well he glistens today, just for vanity's sake. Not that he ever really shines, what with the perpetual dust-and-grit look, but still. << Yes'm? >>
Dragon> Such a show of glistening, or at least a not-quite-so-grittiness, distracts Vrianth momentarily out of her, << /Careful/. >> Which means it doesn't have its proper on-duty schoolmistress tone, and instead something more marveling-amused: is there an occasion? She does remember to add, << They are flaming again today. In formation. >> Which the weyrlings have gotten better at, but still: don't want Wyaeth to get singed. (Vrianth to Wyaeth)
Dragon> To Vrianth, Wyaeth? Careful? Psh. He looks good-- for him-- so might as well share the hot-lookin' wealth, right? As to the weyrlings... a raking look at the sky immediately overhead, which is presently void of flaming weyrlings, but the sense is pretty clear: they better not be aiming that stuff his way. << Thanks, always good for a chuckle if nothin' else. >>
Dragon> Her laughter's a gravelly current, a spark struck here and there the way it never could in water. /Well/. << They make more sense than their riders. >> Young baby-faced riders, with dirty looks at each other when they think nobody's watching, alternated now and again with the hotter sort of looks that got them into trouble to begin with. Speaking of hot-lookin'. There's a speck that might be Wyaeth: showing his stuff above the whole Weyr to see? Or with plans to just lurk and loom and soak up more of that sun. (Vrianth to Wyaeth)
Dragon> To Vrianth, Wyaeth chokes a little mentally at that remark, his well-oiled dignity suffering at the thought. << Ain't saying much, is it? 'Make more sense than the herd in the feeding pen in the middle of a Flight,' might be giving 'em more credit. >> The thought accompanied by an image not of his ever-so-awesome self but of a bloody, wild-eyed stampede-- which, of course, is all his doing. Because he's so happy to blood for Vrianth, being the implication.
Dragon> << More than a herd in a pen during a flight... woke up in the middle of the night, >> Vrianth decides, adding a curtain of darkness about that stampede, and some dramatically flickering torches for atmosphere. Like that. Which of course brings on the rumble of her stomach, if for a rather more prosaic hunt. Hmm. Blood /does/ sound good, all a-sudden. (Vrianth to Wyaeth)
Dragon> To Vrianth, Wyaeth appreciates the addition, if that approving, gritty thought is any indicator. In the dark does lend a particularly dramatic flare. He happily adds in extra slashes of blood and guts, makes a nice muddy, bloody mess out of the whole scene before he sends it back. << Come'n eat then, >> is his genius suggestion, the whole slate wiped clean to show rather placid, nearly empty feeding grounds aside from a few beasts milling around lazily. Ripe for the plucking.
Dragon> Perhaps the guts pulse a time or two, the blood reflects darkly, very scenic. Definite tourist destination, that. Unlike the more pastoral version, apparently, given Vrianth's, << But they are boring. >> She even snorts at them. Where's the challenge? The drama? << I like the wild ones. >> She substitutes a canyon, a herd thundering along it, chasing overhead and raising a torrent of dust. As /if/ they could escape. (Vrianth to Wyaeth)
Dragon> To Vrianth, Wyaeth risks mussing up his glistening sheen of great oil to rustle his wings at the stagnant herd, to go and hiss at them and make a few bolt, wild-eyed-- just without the slinging blood, the torches, the fun stuff! << Long ways to go just for a snack though, ain't it? >> Leaving the Weyr unprotected! What if-- choke-- foreign dragons come?!
Dragon> Such a sacrifice! It may be only a dress rehearsal, without those special effects, but... over there... that's Vrianth's rangy silhouette, winging this way, just to see in the here and now. Which means temporarily abandoning /her/ ledge, but it's not as if there are going to be mountain climbers raiding with their pitons and ropes. Probably. << Worth it, >> she tells him. The adrenaline! The fresh air! Untarnished by distant weyrling dung! An imagined speck of brown might be Oranyuth, having to do some watching-work for a change. Or something related more to the dung. (Vrianth to Wyaeth)
Dragon> Let's not get into the issue of that ledge, mmkay? Just for peace-keeping purposes, Wyaeth'll pretend there's no ledge, no ledge at all. Vrianth just *materializes*, which suits her anyways. << Dunno about that, >> he's reluctant to commit, not so keen on just dismissing this particular green like he might-- well, most of the rest of the population of the Weyr. << Got some pretty fat ones down there today. Think they been into the grain. >> Salesman Wyaeth. (Wyaeth to Vrianth)
Dragon> Materializing. Yes, Vrianth could go with that. Especially with... << No? >> And then, arcing closer, aiming to swoop across his route and over the herd again, << Could try one of each. To see. >> Compare and contrast! (Vrianth to Wyaeth)
Dragon> To Vrianth, Wyaeth will even watch, such an attentive audience. Not so much hungry, especially since he's all gleamy-- never mind he's quick collecting gravel from the lakes shore and his natural tendency to just look weathered is quickly taking over. << Try one of these'uns first, before you go tearing off for critters halfway across the planet. Why waste time, y'know? >>
Dragon> Somewhere... somewhere, there's a vague recollection of how Vrianth just maybe shouldn't eat from these pens when she doesn't have to, that she could leave those for weyrlings and the sick and the old and the oil-shiny. And that his halfway-across-the-planet's a sure-fire exaggeration. But. Some of those he'd pointed out earlier do look mighty plump. Especially the one that's rolling its eyes up at her, neglecting that rule which is to /not/ attract attention. Not if it wants to survive. Through a sudden switchback that doubles her route up on itself, the wind hissing over her wings, << Could get the greedy one. Wyaeth. Leave more grain for the others. >> A public service! Not that Vrianth's usually troubled with the need to do /those/. (Vrianth to Wyaeth)
Dragon> Hey, these here are public pickin's. If the sick and the weyrlings and the old gotta wait in line-- well, serves them right for being sick or weyrlings or old, don't it? As with all things in the bowl, these /belong/ to Wyaeth... and maybe a little bit to the rest of the Reaches. Which is why he so graciously knocks a wingtip against the fence, makes it thud and shakes some settled dust, scares the bejeezus out of that fatty creature till he veers on back around, tumbling, so ready to be plucked. And, just when he might get an eyeful of a feeding, there's N'thei come to wreck it all, to collect him with some disparaging words about his hobbies. Where "hobbies" really means "Vrianth." (Wyaeth to Vrianth)
Dragon> Well, then. If Wyaeth's actually going to /share/ these beasts he's claiming... it's not as though Vrianth needs the help, not hardly, and there's a moment's temptation where she /could/ get ornery and get another beast entirely just to show him... but. Seeing as how he made the effort. Seeing as how it's even getting more dust on his once-polished hide. Seeing as how his rider's actually approaching and all, Vrianth can rumble decided pleasure back to the bronze even as she descends to swipe at that beast and impale it on her claws before, wings beating hard, she ascends to take it to some high ledge and maybe even put it out of its misery before she eats it. And if it drips along the way? That's just part of the territory. Teamwork. (Vrianth to Wyaeth)
IC Date: 7/3/20 --I lost the very last pose. It was a good one, too. :( Edit: Thanks, Leova! Added it. :D
Dragon> Electric impulses charge the air, hunting, hunting... and then, << Wyaeth. >> (Vrianth to Wyaeth)
Dragon> To Vrianth, Wyaeth makes sure Vrianth's quite aware how well he glistens today, just for vanity's sake. Not that he ever really shines, what with the perpetual dust-and-grit look, but still. << Yes'm? >>
Dragon> Such a show of glistening, or at least a not-quite-so-grittiness, distracts Vrianth momentarily out of her, << /Careful/. >> Which means it doesn't have its proper on-duty schoolmistress tone, and instead something more marveling-amused: is there an occasion? She does remember to add, << They are flaming again today. In formation. >> Which the weyrlings have gotten better at, but still: don't want Wyaeth to get singed. (Vrianth to Wyaeth)
Dragon> To Vrianth, Wyaeth? Careful? Psh. He looks good-- for him-- so might as well share the hot-lookin' wealth, right? As to the weyrlings... a raking look at the sky immediately overhead, which is presently void of flaming weyrlings, but the sense is pretty clear: they better not be aiming that stuff his way. << Thanks, always good for a chuckle if nothin' else. >>
Dragon> Her laughter's a gravelly current, a spark struck here and there the way it never could in water. /Well/. << They make more sense than their riders. >> Young baby-faced riders, with dirty looks at each other when they think nobody's watching, alternated now and again with the hotter sort of looks that got them into trouble to begin with. Speaking of hot-lookin'. There's a speck that might be Wyaeth: showing his stuff above the whole Weyr to see? Or with plans to just lurk and loom and soak up more of that sun. (Vrianth to Wyaeth)
Dragon> To Vrianth, Wyaeth chokes a little mentally at that remark, his well-oiled dignity suffering at the thought. << Ain't saying much, is it? 'Make more sense than the herd in the feeding pen in the middle of a Flight,' might be giving 'em more credit. >> The thought accompanied by an image not of his ever-so-awesome self but of a bloody, wild-eyed stampede-- which, of course, is all his doing. Because he's so happy to blood for Vrianth, being the implication.
Dragon> << More than a herd in a pen during a flight... woke up in the middle of the night, >> Vrianth decides, adding a curtain of darkness about that stampede, and some dramatically flickering torches for atmosphere. Like that. Which of course brings on the rumble of her stomach, if for a rather more prosaic hunt. Hmm. Blood /does/ sound good, all a-sudden. (Vrianth to Wyaeth)
Dragon> To Vrianth, Wyaeth appreciates the addition, if that approving, gritty thought is any indicator. In the dark does lend a particularly dramatic flare. He happily adds in extra slashes of blood and guts, makes a nice muddy, bloody mess out of the whole scene before he sends it back. << Come'n eat then, >> is his genius suggestion, the whole slate wiped clean to show rather placid, nearly empty feeding grounds aside from a few beasts milling around lazily. Ripe for the plucking.
Dragon> Perhaps the guts pulse a time or two, the blood reflects darkly, very scenic. Definite tourist destination, that. Unlike the more pastoral version, apparently, given Vrianth's, << But they are boring. >> She even snorts at them. Where's the challenge? The drama? << I like the wild ones. >> She substitutes a canyon, a herd thundering along it, chasing overhead and raising a torrent of dust. As /if/ they could escape. (Vrianth to Wyaeth)
Dragon> To Vrianth, Wyaeth risks mussing up his glistening sheen of great oil to rustle his wings at the stagnant herd, to go and hiss at them and make a few bolt, wild-eyed-- just without the slinging blood, the torches, the fun stuff! << Long ways to go just for a snack though, ain't it? >> Leaving the Weyr unprotected! What if-- choke-- foreign dragons come?!
Dragon> Such a sacrifice! It may be only a dress rehearsal, without those special effects, but... over there... that's Vrianth's rangy silhouette, winging this way, just to see in the here and now. Which means temporarily abandoning /her/ ledge, but it's not as if there are going to be mountain climbers raiding with their pitons and ropes. Probably. << Worth it, >> she tells him. The adrenaline! The fresh air! Untarnished by distant weyrling dung! An imagined speck of brown might be Oranyuth, having to do some watching-work for a change. Or something related more to the dung. (Vrianth to Wyaeth)
Dragon> Let's not get into the issue of that ledge, mmkay? Just for peace-keeping purposes, Wyaeth'll pretend there's no ledge, no ledge at all. Vrianth just *materializes*, which suits her anyways. << Dunno about that, >> he's reluctant to commit, not so keen on just dismissing this particular green like he might-- well, most of the rest of the population of the Weyr. << Got some pretty fat ones down there today. Think they been into the grain. >> Salesman Wyaeth. (Wyaeth to Vrianth)
Dragon> Materializing. Yes, Vrianth could go with that. Especially with... << No? >> And then, arcing closer, aiming to swoop across his route and over the herd again, << Could try one of each. To see. >> Compare and contrast! (Vrianth to Wyaeth)
Dragon> To Vrianth, Wyaeth will even watch, such an attentive audience. Not so much hungry, especially since he's all gleamy-- never mind he's quick collecting gravel from the lakes shore and his natural tendency to just look weathered is quickly taking over. << Try one of these'uns first, before you go tearing off for critters halfway across the planet. Why waste time, y'know? >>
Dragon> Somewhere... somewhere, there's a vague recollection of how Vrianth just maybe shouldn't eat from these pens when she doesn't have to, that she could leave those for weyrlings and the sick and the old and the oil-shiny. And that his halfway-across-the-planet's a sure-fire exaggeration. But. Some of those he'd pointed out earlier do look mighty plump. Especially the one that's rolling its eyes up at her, neglecting that rule which is to /not/ attract attention. Not if it wants to survive. Through a sudden switchback that doubles her route up on itself, the wind hissing over her wings, << Could get the greedy one. Wyaeth. Leave more grain for the others. >> A public service! Not that Vrianth's usually troubled with the need to do /those/. (Vrianth to Wyaeth)
Dragon> Hey, these here are public pickin's. If the sick and the weyrlings and the old gotta wait in line-- well, serves them right for being sick or weyrlings or old, don't it? As with all things in the bowl, these /belong/ to Wyaeth... and maybe a little bit to the rest of the Reaches. Which is why he so graciously knocks a wingtip against the fence, makes it thud and shakes some settled dust, scares the bejeezus out of that fatty creature till he veers on back around, tumbling, so ready to be plucked. And, just when he might get an eyeful of a feeding, there's N'thei come to wreck it all, to collect him with some disparaging words about his hobbies. Where "hobbies" really means "Vrianth." (Wyaeth to Vrianth)
Dragon> Well, then. If Wyaeth's actually going to /share/ these beasts he's claiming... it's not as though Vrianth needs the help, not hardly, and there's a moment's temptation where she /could/ get ornery and get another beast entirely just to show him... but. Seeing as how he made the effort. Seeing as how it's even getting more dust on his once-polished hide. Seeing as how his rider's actually approaching and all, Vrianth can rumble decided pleasure back to the bronze even as she descends to swipe at that beast and impale it on her claws before, wings beating hard, she ascends to take it to some high ledge and maybe even put it out of its misery before she eats it. And if it drips along the way? That's just part of the territory. Teamwork. (Vrianth to Wyaeth)