Ain't No Dragon What Wants a Runt
IC Date: Day 26, Month 9, Turn 2, 7th Pass
Players: E'sere, Islay
Location: Stream
Synopsis: Late afternoon, after work's done, Islay takes a dip in the stream down from the settlement, and is joined by E'sere. They talk and Islay actually tells him a bit about herself.
Deep in the Forest,
Late Afternoon
It's a pleasant island, made moreso by the work of many hands. Stone cliffs on the leeward side make a home for dragons, a large cavern at the base home to the rest in all but the worst rain season. Tropical forest covers most of the island, though there is a small plot of land near the cliffs for cultivated crops and beasts, and the exiles have even added a small dock for the small fishing boats made from the wood of the native trees.
The smoke of fires for cooking, heating water from the freshwater stream that bubbles through the center of the camp, and even the occasional resmithing of old metal traces a hazy line above the island. The dry season's sky stretches endless blue, but there are days where the winds do not blow and there is a heavy stillness in the air. The heat can become oppressive, small insects quiet their usual noise, and even the plants seem to wilt in the heat.
Slightly downstream from the main settlement, the stream widens a bit, the current slower and the bottom sandy. It's here where those who care about such a thing bathe, or wash their clothes. The water is a bit warmer, since the trees overhead don't block the sun as much, and it's a pleasant place to relax after a long day of work. This evening it's pretty deserted, save for Islay. The girl is in the water up to her waist, still fully clothed, apparently washing both clothes and her hair at the same time. For shampoo, well, there's something that resembles soap, though nothing like the luxurious lather one might see on the mainland. Whatever works out here, after all.
E'sere looks tired, dusty, sweaty--not his favorite states of being, certainly. The bronzerider makes his way down to the water at a slow pace, stopping at water's edge and watching Islay a moment. He doesn't immediately move to join her, though, just stands there several seconds to collect himself before he offers an easy, "Evening."
Islay looks up at the sound of a voice, regarding the newcomer a moment then nods. "Eve'nin'," she echoes, combing fingers through her wet hair. "Y'done good, so's Grabin were tellin' me. Fishin', I mean." It seems to be a favorable remark from the girl, since fishing seems to be one of her main duties here. That hair of hers is a mess of curls and tangles that probably haven't seen a real hairbrush in turns, but, she manages well enough in at least getting the worst of the knots out with fingers. "Looks like y'got some sun," she remarks, nodding at his face. "I can show y'how t'make a hat, if'n y'ain't found nuthin' else t'cover yer head."
"Thanks," E'sere remarks, flashing a grin at Islay. "I'm learning, I think. It's a lot harder than it looks--it sounds so easy: just sit here in this boat and wait for a fish to bite." He shakes his head wryly as he shrugs his shirt over his head and then lifts a hand to rub his nose. "Yeah, I am," he agrees as he turns to folding the shirt and setting it aside. "But no thanks--I'm managing all right, and I'd hate to trouble you, so."
There's a lift of one shoulder. "Ain't no trouble, 'r I wouldn't've offered," Islay says practically. "It's jus' weavin' a few fronds t'gether, like makin' a basket," she explains, turning slightly toward him. "Fishin' ain't hard, jus' ain't as easy w'poles as it is w'nets 'r spears. Dragons help w'th' big nets. That's fun t'watch. Brings in lots o'fish at one time. 'Course, now there's Thread, they ain't got as much time fer it." She has a way of looking at people some might find unnerving, watching their eyes more than their mouth. "You doin' all right, though."
"I bet Morelenth would like that," E'sere remarks of the dragons' method of fishing. "I think he's enjoying his vacation--he's like a weyrling out here, playing around in the ocean--while I work my hands off." He doesn't sound upset about it, though; really, his tone borders bemused. "I'll have to see if I can't volunteer him next time they care to try that. As for me--well. I think I'll stick with nets and poles for now: I've seen those spears, and I've decided I should perhaps master the basics before I move on to the pointy things."
For the first time he's probably seen it, Islay grins and laughs. It softens her face a little, and she looks younger than her 23 turns. "Th' dragons look like they're havin' fun, leastways," she agrees. "Don' know if'n they are. I don' get t'go 'round 'em much. M'da, he don' really like you riders much," she ends with. "Me? I likes t'watch 'em swimmin'." She finishes combing through her hair, then twists it deftly atop her head. "You comin' in? Water'll be warm a li'l bit longer, but oncet t'sun goes down, water gets cold." She lowers herself into the stream, then floats a bit, steering herself with her hands and a lazy kick of her feet now and then. "Fish'll stop runnin' soon. Boats'll have t'go farther out. You know how t'do anythin' else? Tannin', cookin', stuff like that?"
"Well, I know Morelenth is," E'sere notes, grinning himself. "This time of year back at the Reaches, the lake would be freezing, certainly too cold for me. They're probably already having snow." He sounds wistful, though, as he speaks of the Reaches winter. "So the fish don't come around as much in the... can you call this winter? Or... What?"
"Not as much, dependin' on th' how th' current runs," Islay explains, lounging in the water. "Call it th' dry season, mostly. Don' rain s'much, hotter and just dry," she says. "I 'member winter," she says after a short silence. "Back t'th' hold, it got real cold, and there was snow all outside. Went out in it oncet w'some o'th' other kids. Got inna fight with snowballs that were fun." She doesn't sound like she particularly misses the mainland. "I were little though, an Idala got mad 'cause I tracked mud inna tavern. Hadda clean it up an' all." There's a sour note at the mention of that name. "Can't say's I miss moppin' an' sweepin' and servin' drinks. It were hard work." Ironic that she seems to think those were hard tasks and the things she does here aren't.
"What hold were you from?" E'sere asks as he moves to finish undressing and finally get in the water himself, with a relaxed sigh. He ducks under the water and slicks his hair back when he re-emerges, studying the woman. "The only thing I've ever really done is ride a dragon--everything that goes along with that, too, of course, but. It's mostly caring for Morelenth, making straps, and drilling, which are somewhat less practical here. But I'll learn. Is Idala... Is she here, too? I don't remember her, if so; but I don't know everyone /quite/ yet."
"High Reaches," Islay replies, lazily paddling on her back, perfectly at home in the water. "Nah, Idala's th' one what turned me an' Da in t'th' guards," she answers, and there's a scowl on her face. "She an' Paolo were th' ones what helped Da raise me after m'ma disappeared. She was w'th' Instigators, an' she turned us all in so's she could keep th' tavern." This is all related with a somewhat cold voice. "Ol' Pao'd love that!" There's a harsh bark of laughter. "Don' think she'd'a last too long, she show 'er face here." Dark, that. "She's sittin' fat an' sassy in th' hold now. Bet she found Da's stash o'marks, too. Prob'ly spent 'em on clothes."
"I'm... sorry to hear that," E'sere remarks, smile sad at the story his question elicits. "It's... It's always someone close to you, isn't it, that gives you up? I suppose it makes sense: they're the ones who know, who know just what you're doing, but... Still. Doesn't make it hurt less, at any rate." He watches Islay a moment longer, then shakes his head and notes more lightly, "I know High Reaches Hold--it's a nice place. I'm from the Weyr myself, so I wasn't too far away."
Islay's quiet a few moments. "I weren't close t'er," she says, rather matter of factly. "She an' Pao were Da's friends. I jus' went with 'im when he moved in t'their place. Da were a guard f'th' hold." She flips over on her stomach, then, swimming closer to E'sere. The stream isn't terribly deep, but she's small, so when she stands, it comes up to her shoulders. "So, how come yer here?" she asks bluntly. "Don' see many riders come here on their own. Just Diya." She regards him levelly, neither condemning or approving, merely curious. "Been hearin' a few folks sayin' some stuff. It true? You get kicked outta yer weyr?"
Sheepishly, E'sere ruffles at his hair, making it stick up in odd damp angles. "Not... exactly," he answers after a moment. "I ran away. They'd convicted me of several crimes, and were going to ground me permanently at Telgar, so when the opportunity arose to escape, I did it." He shrugs, like it's nothing.
Islay listens, then nods. "Just wanted t'know," she says, rubbing at her arms. Not like she's cold, but more like she's bathing. "Can't always b'lieve whatcha hear, yanno? Best t'ask someone y'self." There's another moment of silence, then, "So." A pause. "Didja do what they said y'did?" Islay asks, standing in the water and moving around a little. She and E'sere are away from the main encampment, down where the stream widens into a place some people use as a bathing area. The late afternoon sun is still shining down on the clearing, and it's warm enough for the water to be enjoyable.
There is, on E'sere's part, a long pause, the bronzerider's lips pursing thoughtfully. Finally, he notes, "They thought so."
Islay's lips quirk in a wry smirk. "Right." She regards E'sere another moment or two, then shrugs. "Don' matter t'me. I prob'ly done worse'n you ev'r did." It's not boasting, it's a statement of fact. "I worked with m'Da mostly, but Idala said I don' some real bad stuff, an' they b'lieved 'er, so..." She shrugs again. "You gonna be flyin' w'J'lor? Fightin' thread?"
"J'lor doesn't wish for us to fly with him right now," E'sere remarks with a shrug. "Or at least he didn't when we arrived. I haven't spoken to him since; perhaps he's changed his mind. I rather hope so: Morelenth and I haven't been able to fly in a long time--since I was first arrested."
Those storm-grey eyes are filled with something akin to surprise. "How can they stop ya?" Islay asks, her head canting to one side. Then, on the heels of that, "What's it like, flyin'? I don' member much 'bout it. Jus' that black cold, an' then we were here. I ain't been on no dragon since, an' I'm gonna be standin' f'th' eggs come time." She shrugs. "Don' think no dragon's gonna pick me, no ways, but ..." Another shrug, and she ducks a little underwater, then comes back up.
"J'lor's the leader," E'sere notes equably, "of the wings at least. If he doesn't want to fly with us, that's his prerogative. Though, if you'd like some time, Morelenth and I could take you up for a little while--it's amazing, I assure you. I don't do nearly enough of it for pleasure any more, though." He shrugs, then, and adds, "But. Everyone always says that, and some of them always impress anyway. Though, I suppose it's better to expect the worst and be surprised than the other way around--I was sure I'd impress, but it still took me longer than I'd have liked."
"Din' mean J'lor," Islay corrects. "Meant t'others, back where y'come from. How could they stop y'from flyin? I mean, y'got here, so they couldn't've stopped y'very well." Her hand reaches up, rubbing the side of her nose, expression rather dubious at the mention of taking her up. "Don' know if there's time, but mebbe. Be nice t'know what t'expect if'n I do get picked." She pauses. "I figger I'm a runt. Ain't no dragon gonna wanna pick no runt fer a rider."
"The queens can order Morelenth to obey them," E'sere explains. "But they were too distracted with dealing with Threadfall and the other Instigators' rescue efforts to keep track of us when we left. And, of course, if you'd rather not, that's fine--I just thought I'd offer, so." A shrug.
"Didn' say I wouldn't," Islay says quickly, "jus' that I din' know when I'd have time. Mebbe someday when I gets done workin' I'll letcha take me up. I ain't afraid, jus' busy, s'all," she explains. "I ain't like m'Da. I think dragons're jus' fine. Ain't had no trouble w'th' riders here. Most of 'em do their share o'work, jus' like ever'body else." She grins then. "I was watchin' yer Morelenth yesterday. He likes th' beach. He was splashin' 'round like th' little'uns when they play in th' shallows."
"He's like a weyrling these days," E'sere notes, bemused. "And now he's clamoring for attention, so I should probably go see him. If you want to go up, just let me know sometime. Have a good day, Islay," he remarks then, as he wades back out of the water and redresses, heading off.
Islay nods. "You take care, E'sere," she says, then wades from the stream herself. There's a place on the bank where the sun still peeks through the trees, and it's there where she sprawls, pooling water around herself. "You take care o'Morelenth, too. He's fun t'watch." And then, spreading her hair out in a golden halo around her head, she lies back, closing her eyes for a little rest and to dry off.
Players: E'sere, Islay
Location: Stream
Synopsis: Late afternoon, after work's done, Islay takes a dip in the stream down from the settlement, and is joined by E'sere. They talk and Islay actually tells him a bit about herself.
Deep in the Forest,
Late Afternoon
It's a pleasant island, made moreso by the work of many hands. Stone cliffs on the leeward side make a home for dragons, a large cavern at the base home to the rest in all but the worst rain season. Tropical forest covers most of the island, though there is a small plot of land near the cliffs for cultivated crops and beasts, and the exiles have even added a small dock for the small fishing boats made from the wood of the native trees.
The smoke of fires for cooking, heating water from the freshwater stream that bubbles through the center of the camp, and even the occasional resmithing of old metal traces a hazy line above the island. The dry season's sky stretches endless blue, but there are days where the winds do not blow and there is a heavy stillness in the air. The heat can become oppressive, small insects quiet their usual noise, and even the plants seem to wilt in the heat.
Slightly downstream from the main settlement, the stream widens a bit, the current slower and the bottom sandy. It's here where those who care about such a thing bathe, or wash their clothes. The water is a bit warmer, since the trees overhead don't block the sun as much, and it's a pleasant place to relax after a long day of work. This evening it's pretty deserted, save for Islay. The girl is in the water up to her waist, still fully clothed, apparently washing both clothes and her hair at the same time. For shampoo, well, there's something that resembles soap, though nothing like the luxurious lather one might see on the mainland. Whatever works out here, after all.
E'sere looks tired, dusty, sweaty--not his favorite states of being, certainly. The bronzerider makes his way down to the water at a slow pace, stopping at water's edge and watching Islay a moment. He doesn't immediately move to join her, though, just stands there several seconds to collect himself before he offers an easy, "Evening."
Islay looks up at the sound of a voice, regarding the newcomer a moment then nods. "Eve'nin'," she echoes, combing fingers through her wet hair. "Y'done good, so's Grabin were tellin' me. Fishin', I mean." It seems to be a favorable remark from the girl, since fishing seems to be one of her main duties here. That hair of hers is a mess of curls and tangles that probably haven't seen a real hairbrush in turns, but, she manages well enough in at least getting the worst of the knots out with fingers. "Looks like y'got some sun," she remarks, nodding at his face. "I can show y'how t'make a hat, if'n y'ain't found nuthin' else t'cover yer head."
"Thanks," E'sere remarks, flashing a grin at Islay. "I'm learning, I think. It's a lot harder than it looks--it sounds so easy: just sit here in this boat and wait for a fish to bite." He shakes his head wryly as he shrugs his shirt over his head and then lifts a hand to rub his nose. "Yeah, I am," he agrees as he turns to folding the shirt and setting it aside. "But no thanks--I'm managing all right, and I'd hate to trouble you, so."
There's a lift of one shoulder. "Ain't no trouble, 'r I wouldn't've offered," Islay says practically. "It's jus' weavin' a few fronds t'gether, like makin' a basket," she explains, turning slightly toward him. "Fishin' ain't hard, jus' ain't as easy w'poles as it is w'nets 'r spears. Dragons help w'th' big nets. That's fun t'watch. Brings in lots o'fish at one time. 'Course, now there's Thread, they ain't got as much time fer it." She has a way of looking at people some might find unnerving, watching their eyes more than their mouth. "You doin' all right, though."
"I bet Morelenth would like that," E'sere remarks of the dragons' method of fishing. "I think he's enjoying his vacation--he's like a weyrling out here, playing around in the ocean--while I work my hands off." He doesn't sound upset about it, though; really, his tone borders bemused. "I'll have to see if I can't volunteer him next time they care to try that. As for me--well. I think I'll stick with nets and poles for now: I've seen those spears, and I've decided I should perhaps master the basics before I move on to the pointy things."
For the first time he's probably seen it, Islay grins and laughs. It softens her face a little, and she looks younger than her 23 turns. "Th' dragons look like they're havin' fun, leastways," she agrees. "Don' know if'n they are. I don' get t'go 'round 'em much. M'da, he don' really like you riders much," she ends with. "Me? I likes t'watch 'em swimmin'." She finishes combing through her hair, then twists it deftly atop her head. "You comin' in? Water'll be warm a li'l bit longer, but oncet t'sun goes down, water gets cold." She lowers herself into the stream, then floats a bit, steering herself with her hands and a lazy kick of her feet now and then. "Fish'll stop runnin' soon. Boats'll have t'go farther out. You know how t'do anythin' else? Tannin', cookin', stuff like that?"
"Well, I know Morelenth is," E'sere notes, grinning himself. "This time of year back at the Reaches, the lake would be freezing, certainly too cold for me. They're probably already having snow." He sounds wistful, though, as he speaks of the Reaches winter. "So the fish don't come around as much in the... can you call this winter? Or... What?"
"Not as much, dependin' on th' how th' current runs," Islay explains, lounging in the water. "Call it th' dry season, mostly. Don' rain s'much, hotter and just dry," she says. "I 'member winter," she says after a short silence. "Back t'th' hold, it got real cold, and there was snow all outside. Went out in it oncet w'some o'th' other kids. Got inna fight with snowballs that were fun." She doesn't sound like she particularly misses the mainland. "I were little though, an Idala got mad 'cause I tracked mud inna tavern. Hadda clean it up an' all." There's a sour note at the mention of that name. "Can't say's I miss moppin' an' sweepin' and servin' drinks. It were hard work." Ironic that she seems to think those were hard tasks and the things she does here aren't.
"What hold were you from?" E'sere asks as he moves to finish undressing and finally get in the water himself, with a relaxed sigh. He ducks under the water and slicks his hair back when he re-emerges, studying the woman. "The only thing I've ever really done is ride a dragon--everything that goes along with that, too, of course, but. It's mostly caring for Morelenth, making straps, and drilling, which are somewhat less practical here. But I'll learn. Is Idala... Is she here, too? I don't remember her, if so; but I don't know everyone /quite/ yet."
"High Reaches," Islay replies, lazily paddling on her back, perfectly at home in the water. "Nah, Idala's th' one what turned me an' Da in t'th' guards," she answers, and there's a scowl on her face. "She an' Paolo were th' ones what helped Da raise me after m'ma disappeared. She was w'th' Instigators, an' she turned us all in so's she could keep th' tavern." This is all related with a somewhat cold voice. "Ol' Pao'd love that!" There's a harsh bark of laughter. "Don' think she'd'a last too long, she show 'er face here." Dark, that. "She's sittin' fat an' sassy in th' hold now. Bet she found Da's stash o'marks, too. Prob'ly spent 'em on clothes."
"I'm... sorry to hear that," E'sere remarks, smile sad at the story his question elicits. "It's... It's always someone close to you, isn't it, that gives you up? I suppose it makes sense: they're the ones who know, who know just what you're doing, but... Still. Doesn't make it hurt less, at any rate." He watches Islay a moment longer, then shakes his head and notes more lightly, "I know High Reaches Hold--it's a nice place. I'm from the Weyr myself, so I wasn't too far away."
Islay's quiet a few moments. "I weren't close t'er," she says, rather matter of factly. "She an' Pao were Da's friends. I jus' went with 'im when he moved in t'their place. Da were a guard f'th' hold." She flips over on her stomach, then, swimming closer to E'sere. The stream isn't terribly deep, but she's small, so when she stands, it comes up to her shoulders. "So, how come yer here?" she asks bluntly. "Don' see many riders come here on their own. Just Diya." She regards him levelly, neither condemning or approving, merely curious. "Been hearin' a few folks sayin' some stuff. It true? You get kicked outta yer weyr?"
Sheepishly, E'sere ruffles at his hair, making it stick up in odd damp angles. "Not... exactly," he answers after a moment. "I ran away. They'd convicted me of several crimes, and were going to ground me permanently at Telgar, so when the opportunity arose to escape, I did it." He shrugs, like it's nothing.
Islay listens, then nods. "Just wanted t'know," she says, rubbing at her arms. Not like she's cold, but more like she's bathing. "Can't always b'lieve whatcha hear, yanno? Best t'ask someone y'self." There's another moment of silence, then, "So." A pause. "Didja do what they said y'did?" Islay asks, standing in the water and moving around a little. She and E'sere are away from the main encampment, down where the stream widens into a place some people use as a bathing area. The late afternoon sun is still shining down on the clearing, and it's warm enough for the water to be enjoyable.
There is, on E'sere's part, a long pause, the bronzerider's lips pursing thoughtfully. Finally, he notes, "They thought so."
Islay's lips quirk in a wry smirk. "Right." She regards E'sere another moment or two, then shrugs. "Don' matter t'me. I prob'ly done worse'n you ev'r did." It's not boasting, it's a statement of fact. "I worked with m'Da mostly, but Idala said I don' some real bad stuff, an' they b'lieved 'er, so..." She shrugs again. "You gonna be flyin' w'J'lor? Fightin' thread?"
"J'lor doesn't wish for us to fly with him right now," E'sere remarks with a shrug. "Or at least he didn't when we arrived. I haven't spoken to him since; perhaps he's changed his mind. I rather hope so: Morelenth and I haven't been able to fly in a long time--since I was first arrested."
Those storm-grey eyes are filled with something akin to surprise. "How can they stop ya?" Islay asks, her head canting to one side. Then, on the heels of that, "What's it like, flyin'? I don' member much 'bout it. Jus' that black cold, an' then we were here. I ain't been on no dragon since, an' I'm gonna be standin' f'th' eggs come time." She shrugs. "Don' think no dragon's gonna pick me, no ways, but ..." Another shrug, and she ducks a little underwater, then comes back up.
"J'lor's the leader," E'sere notes equably, "of the wings at least. If he doesn't want to fly with us, that's his prerogative. Though, if you'd like some time, Morelenth and I could take you up for a little while--it's amazing, I assure you. I don't do nearly enough of it for pleasure any more, though." He shrugs, then, and adds, "But. Everyone always says that, and some of them always impress anyway. Though, I suppose it's better to expect the worst and be surprised than the other way around--I was sure I'd impress, but it still took me longer than I'd have liked."
"Din' mean J'lor," Islay corrects. "Meant t'others, back where y'come from. How could they stop y'from flyin? I mean, y'got here, so they couldn't've stopped y'very well." Her hand reaches up, rubbing the side of her nose, expression rather dubious at the mention of taking her up. "Don' know if there's time, but mebbe. Be nice t'know what t'expect if'n I do get picked." She pauses. "I figger I'm a runt. Ain't no dragon gonna wanna pick no runt fer a rider."
"The queens can order Morelenth to obey them," E'sere explains. "But they were too distracted with dealing with Threadfall and the other Instigators' rescue efforts to keep track of us when we left. And, of course, if you'd rather not, that's fine--I just thought I'd offer, so." A shrug.
"Didn' say I wouldn't," Islay says quickly, "jus' that I din' know when I'd have time. Mebbe someday when I gets done workin' I'll letcha take me up. I ain't afraid, jus' busy, s'all," she explains. "I ain't like m'Da. I think dragons're jus' fine. Ain't had no trouble w'th' riders here. Most of 'em do their share o'work, jus' like ever'body else." She grins then. "I was watchin' yer Morelenth yesterday. He likes th' beach. He was splashin' 'round like th' little'uns when they play in th' shallows."
"He's like a weyrling these days," E'sere notes, bemused. "And now he's clamoring for attention, so I should probably go see him. If you want to go up, just let me know sometime. Have a good day, Islay," he remarks then, as he wades back out of the water and redresses, heading off.
Islay nods. "You take care, E'sere," she says, then wades from the stream herself. There's a place on the bank where the sun still peeks through the trees, and it's there where she sprawls, pooling water around herself. "You take care o'Morelenth, too. He's fun t'watch." And then, spreading her hair out in a golden halo around her head, she lies back, closing her eyes for a little rest and to dry off.