[Log] << Where? >>
Who: I'daur, Leova
When: Day 18, Month 1, Turn 16
Where: Bowl, High Reaches Weyr; Sky over Tillek Hold
What: I'daur takes Leova between for the first time.
Notes: Backdated.
Eastern Bowl, High Reaches Weyr
Standing on the eastern side of the bowl, you realize why this is one of the most striking Weyrs on Pern. Arrayed around the north rim of the bowl are the Seven Spindles: high crownlike points formed of old volcano flows which were eroded to sharp spikes. The bowl itself is a rough ovoid shape, with a large lake taking up a good portion of the southeastern part. The bowl seems to slant down to the lake shore, and the soil becomes a little looser in that direction. From the east, the slight aroma of herdbeast and wherry hide rises from the feeding grounds. The northeast section of the bowl is full of activity: training of dragons both young and old goes on in a large clearing near the entrance to the weyrling barracks and dragon infirmary. Several small boulders dot the area to the north, forming a winding path to the ledges leading into the weyrleaders' quarters.
The evening is clear, with a few small clouds crossing the twinkling stars. Through the whispy clouds you can see the stars. The smaller Belior is shining brightly as a full moon while Timor winks as a waxing crescent. It is completely still, no winds blow and the winter air feels a bit nippy.
Contents:
Vrianth
Obvious exits:
Weyrleader Ledges Dragon Infirmary Weyrling Barracks Weyrling Training Room Feeding Grounds Lake Shore Western Bowl
It's that time, the one weyrlings and weyrlingmaster alike dread. A couple have already gone, made it through safely, but every time is a new challenge, and I'daur looks tired already, fumbling with his flask but not drinking from it today. << Come, >> Zunaeth reaches out to Vrianth, his mind unusually cool, fire locked away somewhere as he sends the green an image of the bowl and his rider and himself, waiting.
He calls, and she comes: quick of wing, her rider neatly buckled, Vrianth quietly attentive and her Leova positively taciturn. Not that the wind wouldn't have blown away words anyway. Even their landing is devoid of pyrotechnics, just far enough from Zunaeth that he still has wingroom. Leova salutes. It seems right somehow.
That salute, I'daur will return, rather lazily. And then he finally breaks into the alcohol, just one long swig before he caps it and puts it away to look to the weyrling and her dragon. Zunaeth watches, too. "You know what we're doing?" I'daur asks.
Dragon> Zunaeth senses that Vrianth's there, projecting a sense of readiness the way, some days, she shares delight or worry or fascination. She doesn't demand the flames of his thoughts, doesn't pry at the locks. Does respect what he calls for, this day, and there's a further sense of warm assurance that he'll guide them right, that they'll be just fine.
"Heard." Leova leans low along her Vrianth's neck, cheek pressed into one of the young green's ridges, eyes on her weyrlingmaster. Also ready. But not hurrying it along.
"Heard," repeats I'daur, nodding slowly. He starts to reach for his drink, stops himself. Turns back to Zunaeth to check over the dragon's straps perfunctorily. "We're just going one end of the bowl to the other, so... Yeah." He moves to mount up, and signal the weyrling to follow as Zunaeth, laboriously, moves to take flight--get this over with quickly.
She sees it. They both do, but Leova's the one who talks. "Give me a swig afterward, hm?" Because of course they're going to make it out. Not allowed to be any other way. And Vrianth, she's watching Zunaeth, prepared to take wing right after he does. There won't be deviations today.
I'daur nods to Leova, and then Zunaeth is taking wing, flapping slowly to get himself aloft over the weyr, circling while he waits for the green to catch up. I'daur is watching, too, mouth a thin line while Zunaeth relays on further instructions.
Zunaeth> I bespoke Vrianth with << Send me your image. The bowl here. >> Still cool to the touch, he doesn't linger much, withdrawn as he waits for her to do so. << Make it as clear, detailed, as you can, and we'll check it and make sure. >> >>
Other days, there would be temptations: a flock of firelizards sunning on a ledge, what passes for images in their little brains ripe for a moment's collage. A trio of familiar blue dragons sunning on the same ledge. A gust of wind that rises, ripe for Vrianth to grab hold and soar higher, faster, further. Maybe they're still tempting, just not tempting enough, for Vrianth matches Zunaeth's pace just like those drills they've been practicing more and more of. It could be that. Could just be a drill.
Dragon> Zunaeth senses that Vrianth lays it out for him: the shape of the stone, the slant of the light, so very familiar and easy to overlook if they hadn't been made to see it all new again. This stone. This light. The firelizards threaten to invade here too, but nearly anyone or anything could scatter them, so she willfully presses them out where it doesn't matter if they're there or not. Or maybe it's Leova that does. In any case: there are the cliffs. There is the lake. Back there are the Star Stones. And there they are.
Dragon> << Good. >> Zunaeth warms slightly at that, heat seeping through his thoughts in a hopeful flicker, shared with the green. << Think of it hard now, and we'll go. >> He lingers a moment longer, him and his rider both watching, but then in an instant they go /between/ first to lead the way, and the bronze's mind slips away into that nothingness for the few heartbeats it takes to appear at the other end and reach back out for Vrianth, to see if she's followed him in and back out into the air. (Zunaeth to Vrianth)
Dragon> << Yes. Zunaeth. >> A spark for that flicker of flame, and then it's palpable, their sense of focus. Still, things happen, unpredicted and unpredictable. It could go so wrong. Leova could list the ways it could, had in fact when a group of them had sat up late and listed the goriest results they could devise, and no doubt I'daur could imagine even more. But in the end, this time at least, it's anticlimactic. In they go. After Zunaeth. Cold, colder, coldest. And out the other side. (Vrianth to Zunaeth)
Dragon> That must be quite a list, but there's no thought of it from Zunaeth, as he keeps such ideas to himself, locked down tight with a last, << Don't kill yourself, >> the instant before Vrianth disappears. And then, seconds later, she's back, and he's reaching out again with that warmth of his to chase away between's chill. << Well done, >> with obvious relief. (Zunaeth to Vrianth)
Dragon> So cold. Cold-cold-cold-cold-cold. Cold enough that even between the two of them, Leova doesn't make a quip about killing themselves later, which to Vrianth would be no joke at all. Cold. And then even freezing High Reaches is warm, and Zunaeth's welcome warmer yet. << Of course! >> That could be writ in fireworks, Vrianth just that proud of herself and her Leova. They were well trained, after all. (Vrianth to Zunaeth)
Dragon> << Of course. >> No doubt for Zunaeth, too, thought that wry bemusement covers the fiery tendrils he offers her now. << You did good. Want to go again, make sure? >> He's less worried this time, now that she's made it through that critical first time. (Zunaeth to Vrianth)
Dragon> And now that she has indeed made it through, Vrianth can tease with fizzy happy humor, << Told you. >> Rather than bring out more fireworks, for his praise she slides her thoughts along that reaching fire as though the tendrils were the winds she flies against now, circling, waiting. And her answer isn't a yes. It's a, << Where? >> Somewhere exciting? (Vrianth to Zunaeth)
Zunaeth> Vrianth senses that Zunaeth thinks a moment, turning over sparks in his mind before he decides. << We'll show you, >> he tells her then, and sends then an image for her: Tillek, the hold and the ocean around it, as seen from the air. << We'll go here. Follow us, >> and then in an instant, he's doing so, slipping between and back out on the other side, over the hold.
Dragon> It wasn't so many sevendays ago that Vrianth might have doctored up the image to add spice to the eternal envisioning practice, added more bits here and there to see whether certain of her classmates would notice. But this isn't practice. This time, she gets to go. And his image is just that clear. She takes the vision, Leova holds it, and between them they go. Between. And then there they are. << Oh! >> The delight again, sharing it unthinkingly. << And now, Zunaeth? Where now! >> (Vrianth to Zunaeth)
Zunaeth> Vrianth senses that Zunaeth hovers over the hold, gliding on the breeze blowing in off the sea more than anything else, while he enjoys the younger dragon's delight. << Home now, >> he tells her. << Can't stay--lessons. Other weyrlings. >> There's a grim undertone to that latter statement, the thought of other weyrlings still to pass this trail as Vrianth has.
Dragon> Home. Then Vrianth will have to make the most of what she can see, this not-unfamiliar Tillek, overlaid by so many of her rider's memories even if they mostly aren't from the air. Her long neck curves, eyes sparked so bright in the wind and the sun, and it's as though she's about to race out over the ocean. But then she just slides in, wingtip near wingtip so the same breeze carries them both. Another day? Can't the others wait just another day, and let them play? But she doesn't ask it. Just offers him the image for him to double-check, and with it an undercurrent of hopeful energy. Home. (Vrianth to Zunaeth)
Dragon> And Zunaeth goes, not lingering any longer over the hold. Back to the Reaches, where he reappears and glides in to a rough landing on the ground, head tilted upward all the while to watch Vrianth, to make sure she arrives even if she's been just fine so far. And then I'daur is sliding down to the ground to wait on the pair, propping a shoulder against the bronze to get weight off his leg. (Zunaeth to Vrianth)
Dragon> And there they, too, reappear. Vrianth isn't above doing a delighted little circle right above the watchdragon, either, before she veers demurely down behind Zunaeth as though they would never even have thought of detouring at all. Which makes her rider laugh that much more, all sheer giddy relief, trying to take deep breaths and having the wind whip them away again. But finally, finally they're the rest of the way down with a three-hop, ready-to-go-up-again-landing, and Vrianth wanders back over to Zunaeth before she bothers to let her rider dismount. Which she does. Unsteadily. "Think I oughta kiss the ground. Wasn't that something!" (Vrianth to Zunaeth)
Dragon> Quite warm, back to himself for this short time, Zunaeth exudes heat toward the green, amused at her joy. "Yeah?" says I'daur, rubbing his neck as he glances over at Leova. "Oughta," he agrees. "You did good. Take the afternoon off or something." (Zunaeth to Vrianth)
Dragon> Which has Vrianth arching her neck his way, wings fanning out as though it were summer instead of deep winter, and radiating happiness right back with every gleaming facet of her eyes. Leova gives her a sidelong glance, then just shakes her head and plods in I'daur's direction: good thing she's too smitten with her dragon to trade Vrianth in for one that's more reserved. But then again, first betweening deserves something. So she actually does pick up a small rock along the way, gives it a ceremonial smooch, and then promptly tosses it overhand to go ricocheting who knows where. "There." Bye, rock. "Will do. Who you got next?" (Vrianth to Zunaeth)
Dragon> "Whoever. Not sure," I'daur answers with a shrug, glancing from Leova to Vrianth and his own dragon idly. "I'ro, maybe. Get that idiot over with--after I have a drink." He's pulling the flask out now, reaching it out to offer it toward her before she goes. (Zunaeth to Vrianth)
Dragon> Leova takes the flask, too, but she rarely pulls out the "Sir," for no reason, and today's no different. To it she adds a quiet, "He really has been working hard. Wants to get it done." Uncapping the flask, she gives it a wary sniff before shrugging and downing a gulp and letting it burn, burn, burn all the way down. And Vrianth, she thinks suddenly of flame. (Vrianth to Zunaeth)
Dragon> "Most of us do," admits I'daur with a shrug. While Leova takes his drink, chugs her sip, he watches, then reaches back for it when she's done, to take a drink himself and put the awful stuff away today. "Go on, then." Zunaeth is already calling for I'ro and his dragon to come on down, while I'daur turns back to wait with him. The bronze has one more burst of those flames for Vrianth, though, all the same. (Zunaeth to Vrianth)
Dragon> She only secures the cap a fraction of a turn, only enough to keep it from spilling along the short way before it's undone, like fastening just one buckle before gliding down to the living caverns. "Thanks," Leova says as he turns, and watches a moment more before hurrying back to Vrianth and taking themselves off. Vrianth, who takes the warmth of those flames with her even as she launches herself into the cold wind.
And as it happens, around noon, one of the caverns kids comes out with a lunch for the weyrlingmaster to go with that rotgut. Whether I'ro makes it all right, or not. (Vrianth to Zunaeth)