[Log] Cheaters
Who: I'neph, L'dor
When: Day 13, Month 8, Turn 448
Where: Bowl, Benden Weyr
What: I'neph and L'dor hit it off about as much as Dioscuth and Banyth do. Which is, not at all.
Southern Bowl Late Summer. Breezy. 77F / 25C.
The primary feature of this end of the mile-long bowl is the Weyr's lake, which takes up nearly a quarter of the bowl's capacity by itself. About two dragonlengths deep at the deepest part - which is safely nestled along the wall of the bowl, far from the shore - the water is fairly clear for all that it's warm. Even in the winter, the water never really dips below "chilly," heated as it is by the Weyr's internal thermals. Occupying the southwestern corner, the southeastern finger of the lake dips into what would be the feeding grounds if the fence were still standing.
The tunnel to the weyrling barracks opens on the eastern side of the bowl, just north of the patio-like overhang that serves as the Weyr's stables - for all that the Weyr has stables at the moment. Almost directly across from this on the eastern wall is the tunnel leading in to the lower caverns, meeting up with the road out of the Weyr.
-- Players --
I'neph.........6', athletic; olive skin, dark brown eyes & hair; mid/late 20s. Cute but worthless.
-- Exits --
Northern Bowl............[N] Weyrling Barracks........[E]
Feeding Grounds..........[S] Patio and Garden.........[SW]
Lower Caverns............[W]
L'dor
A young man of 23, L'dor has the look of one who has grown upwards faster than outwards. A height of 5'11' combines with an angular frame to give him an awkward appearance, though his limbs show enough taut muscle to suggest that physical work is a feature of his life. Dark brown hair is cut fairly short and parted on the right side: the short fringe refuses to settle and is as likely to stand vertically as to lie flat, giving the appearance of a high forehead. Eyebrows are small and neat, not detracting from eyes whose irises are a clear pale blue encircled by a darker ring. His face is square with a strong jaw and straight nose, and his skin has acquired a medium tan. Though he won't be setting the girls swooning, he's not bad looking. His hands are broad, with nails cut square.
L'dor is wearing his flying leathers: a heavy brown wherhide jacket that reaches down over his hips, and brown wherhide trousers that have been cut to allow freedom of movement. His boots are also brown, and well polished.
Out by the lake, I'neph is doing exactly nothing. It's a nice day, and he's seated out on the shore by himself, while others outdoors amble on by. Dioscuth is out in the water, the bronze eyeing about for other dragons intently, and looking put-out when the couple he comes across snub him, for whatever reason.
It is indeed a nice day: nice enough that when blue Banyth lands by the lake shore, the rider who drops to the ground from his back is wearing nothing more than a pair of rather short shorts. He is carrying a long brush, however, and as he immediately starts to remove the dragon's harness, it might be surmised that both of them are headed for the water. While L'dor folds the straps into a neat pile on a dry piece of ground, Banyth wades into the lake, greeting Dioscuth with a cheerful bugle. The bluerider turns towards the lake, looking to see who's about.
Oh, look! Another dragon. Dioscuth is plainly delighted, offering a return rumble at the blue. Even before the dragon offers any sort of mental greeting, I'neph calls out toward L'dor, "Ignore him." Though Dioscuth eyes his rider a moment, he turns back to Banyth to offer up an image to the blue: the two of them, both under the water holding their breaths in some sort of game. Banyth, of course, is pictured coming up first, though.
That sounds pretty good to Banyth, who warbles enthusiastically, sends a picture of bubbles in return, and starts swimming towards a deeper part of the lake, leaving L'dor, brush in hand, standing on the shore watching him and shaking his head with a bemused expression on his face. "So much for wanting his neck ridges scrubbed. I'd swear his great-great-granddam was a fish."
"Damn it," I'neph says, not very feelingly, as Dioscuth, quivering with excitement, initiates their little competition by ducking under the water. "I was hoping we could just have a nice day of sitting, but nooo. You had to go encourage him," the rider continues, eyeing L'dor sulkily. "I swear Dioscuth's great-great-whatever was a... really... competitive thing," he finishes lamely.
"Hey!" L'dor protests. "I never said a word. Besides, even if they are playing games out there, it's not stopping you from sitting as much as you want." It is, however, preventing L'dor from bathing his dragon. He jabs the end of the brush into the palm of his hand, before taking another look at the bronzerider and tacking on a minimal introduction. "L'dor. He's Banyth."
"I'neph, Dioscuth," the man replies, sniffing superciliously. "And it does, too, because either he's going to be gloating that he won or sulking that he didn't and wanting a remath in a minute. I /told/ you to ignore him, didn't I?" He rolls his eyes.
L'dor can do the eye-rolling thing, too, and does. Disdaining further argument, he ambles a few steps further from the bronzerider and turns away from him, looking towards the lake. Banyth is still underwater, his head held forward as he tries to move into even deeper water. He sends Dioscuth a faint wordless query and a picture of I'neph.
At the query, Dioscuth pops his head back up from the water to study Banyth in confusion. He mirrors back the image with his own feeling of question, not understanding, while I'neph continues to just sit on the shore like a bump on a log.
Banyth adds a stronger flavour to his query: it's to do with being restricted from playing, and the image now shows the two riders talking. It's followed by a brief hint of satisfaction as he too returns to the surface - after Dioscuth - and starts to float, keeping himself above the deep water with a few lazy kicks. L'dor places his hands on his hips in a posture that suggests impatience, but keeps watching.
Dioscuth just stares. And stares, and then notes, << You cheated; that time doesn't count. >> He has a deep voice but a way of slurring words together like he's just a little tipsy. He adds, << I don't know /what/ you're talking about. >>
Banyth's mindvoice is a bright tenor, but its usual enthusiasm is now tinged with a hint of offence. << Your rider spoils your fun. Don't you don't know what he's thinking without having to put your head above the water? >> He starts to swim towards the shore, and L'dor wades out to meet him, commenting coolly, "There, game over," for I'neph's benefit.
"He cheated," I'neph takes up Dioscuth's mantle while the bronze glares daggers at Banyth. "So it doesn't count." Sniff. "Go find somebody who knows how to play right, Dioscuth," he tells the bronze, with a pointed look at the other pair.
L'dor turns back in defence of his blue. "He did not! He says he was just wondering why you were trying to stop them playing." A dismissive shake of the head is accompanied by a disgruntled rumble from Banyth. "Anyway, we came here to get him clean, not to start scrapping over..." L'dor can't find a suitably dismissive word, apparently. He approaches the blue, who lowers his neck for his rider to start scrubbing neck ridges.
"Because it's annoying?" says I'neph as though that were obvious. "So I'm not going to let him. That's why we're leaving now. C'mon, Dioscuth," he calls to the dragon, gesturing for him to come. The bronze does so, with a last sulky rumble at Banyth. He doesn't really seem to mind leaving now, though.