LOG: I Mean More To You
Date: Evening on Day 17, Month 7, Turn 18
Location: High Reaches Weyr and surrounds
Synopsis: Yyth wants to be entertained. Cadejoth shows her somewhere interesting.
Dragon> To Cadejoth, Yyth nudges as she unfurls inky tendrils into the deeper blackness. << Are you busy, Cadejoth? >>
Dragon> The faintest shaking rattle accompanies Cadejoth's response, a shivering flicker of moonlight gleaming in contrast to her inky tendrils. << No, >> he says, eager for some as-yet-confirmed revelry. << I'm doing /nothing/. >> (Cadejoth to Yyth)
Dragon> To Cadejoth, Yyth catches on to this eagerness, bending herself like a bit of the wind around the countours of his moonlight. << This is convienent, as I am also doing nothing. Would you care to join me? I was thinking of going flying. >>
Dragon> To Yyth, Cadejoth projects, << Flying? I like flying. >> His enthusiasm for this plan is palpable, the rattle of bones and chains intensifying, plinking and clinking in a rhythm of his very own. Already, his too-thin body is shoved, unceremoniously, off the edge of his ledge and into the air. Flight! Freedom! << Where shall we fly, Yyth? >>
Dragon> There is a lurch and then a hurtling drop before the sort of swift rise that would surely make the pit of P'ax's stomach drop if he'd experienced it with her. She echoes his sentiment of freedom, << Where is your favorite place, Cadejoth? Will you take me there? >> High pitched, too high for human ears to contemplate comfortably, and sweetly persuasive, Yyth wheddles with stroking, spindly fingers of blood. (Yyth to Cadejoth)
Dragon> Freedom! It rings, still, in Cadejoth's mind, as his wings snap out to support his body, carrying him across to meet the smaller green. He finds her spindly, bloody fingers enticing, intriguing, examining them with the single-minded enthusiasm of a small child; oh, she has him, wrapped about just one of those fingers. << I will take you, >> he declares, already reaching out with green-bronze wingtips to take higher into the skies, above and beyond the weyr walls. (Cadejoth to Yyth)
Dragon> To Cadejoth, Yyth banks and then rises, higher, higher, a green smudge angling to meet him there above the Weyr. She grows more of these fingers, letting them wiggle like worms, burrowing in and out of the link between them. << I knew you would, >> she brags effortlessly. Her voice grows into a high, eerie whisper, a wolf's call in the night. << That is why you are my favorite. >>
Dragon> Yyth's eerie whisper is matched, counterpointed, /delighted in/, by Cadejoth's own - a true howl, bone-shaking and moon-toned, eager and expressive. Another wingbeat, another soaring glide, higher and higher. The world below is shrouded in night; Cadejoth flies below the moon, the glow of which turns him greener still. Onwards, is his silent entreaty. /Onwards/. << And because you are mine, I will take you, >> he tells her, bubbling over in excitement, his tail waving through the air: follow, follow. (Cadejoth to Yyth)
Dragon> Will be silver and crimson under the moonlight, a beautiful cast to his patina. She seems pleased by the contrast they make, pleased by the black sky and the smooth glide of wings through the chill night air. Pleased by his response. << I come, >> she assures, reigning in her natural speed to stay by his shoulder. << Where are we going? >> (Yyth to Cadejoth)
Dragon> Wingbeat for wingbeat, well matched, thanks to her reigned in speed, though Cadejoth valiantly hastens his so as not to limit her too much. He's pleased by the companionship, the /doing/ - as always, his thoughts ripple with those chains, and a howling echo of contentedness. << Do you really want to know? It could be a surprise. I like surprises. Or I could show you, now, and we could just go. >> (Cadejoth to Yyth)
Dragon> << Surprise. >> She rolls the idea around in her mind for a bit. << Yes, a surprise, >> she agrees. << Is it far? >> She dips one wing, indulging in a lazy spiral that brings her away from him and back again, above him so that her mind picks up the way the moon outlines him, the color bouncing back into her own mindvoice to tint her thoughts. (Yyth to Cadejoth)
Dragon> To Yyth, Cadejoth clearly envies her that ability to roll and spiral like that, and he watches in fascination, admiring this ability, enthusing over it without so much as speaking a word. The moons play heavily in his thoughts, the silvered green shades tinting everything, not so different from her own touch, a happy match. << Surprise! Good. I like surprises, too. They're fun. So long as they're good ones, and this is. Not far, not far. >>
Dragon> To Cadejoth, Yyth tips curiously towards this envy. << You could try it, >> she coaxes gently, thinking of the way they'd be in harmony if he could follow her maneuvers. << I'm sure all of your surprises are good, Cadejoth. >>
Dragon> To Yyth, Cadejoth is not, in the end, terribly predisposed to actual moping; he declines the coaxing, instead projecting an image of himself, as seen through another's eyes, of gracelessly mangling the move. << I'm not built for it, Yyth. But it's fine: you are, so I will enjoy you doing it. We all have our strengths. >> For the latter, there's only an unspoken certainty: yes, they certainly are. He tilts on a wingtip, arcing lower in the sky, towards a tree-shaded area half hidden amidst the mountains below.
Dragon> To Cadejoth, Yyth will allow it. << It's okay, >> she assures him, slightly amused. << I still fall on my nose when I try to land. So you can be better at that than I am. >> She follows him, tipping her wings to take her lower in his wake. << Is that it? >>
Dragon> To Yyth, Cadejoth finds contentment in this. After all, are they all not good at what they are good at, and not so good at other things, letting others shine? << Here, >> he agrees, hurtling between trees with the ease of one who has done this before, and knows where he's going; a moment later, the trees clear, and he has hurtled into a silvered, moonlit lake with a mighty splash.
Dragon> To Cadejoth, Yyth is more cautious with her plunge, waiting until the trees open before decending into them. Well, at least belly flopping into the lake requires less grace than attempting to set down on the ground. She folds her wings and plummets, the water parting around her with a great wave that swamps the nearest shore. << Ah, I see why this is your favorite. >>
Dragon> To Yyth, Cadejoth's trumpet of delight, howl-like and bond-tingling, is physical as well as mental. << Isn't it perfect? All moon-filled and secluded and /perfect/. K'del brings girls here. So I brought you. >>
Dragon> To Cadejoth, Yyth sinks into the water, so that only her topline rises out of it, sitting on the bottom of lakebed. << It is delightful, >> she agrees. Then, serious, << I hope I mean more to you than the girls yours brings here. Mine seems to think that he has no ... sincere feelings... for anyone. >>
Dragon> To Yyth, Cadejoth drops his wings, so that they float atop the water, letting it ripple about him. << He does, too, >> he defends his rider, immediately insistent. << He cares for lots of people. He just doesn't have to /love/ them to want to enjoy them. >> This 'love' concept is something Cadejoth is uncertain of - he's clearly taking thoughts from his rider. << But you mean a lot to me, anyway, Yyth. >>
Dragon> To Cadejoth, Yyth doesn't understand the distinction. << Mine doesn't love anyone but me, >> she announces smugly. There is a pause. << I see. >> She doesn't. << What is... enjoying? >> Having never ventured anywhere near that concept with hers, it is a foreign issue. << As you should. As I deserve. >>
Dragon> To Yyth, Cadejoth projects, << Then how can he complain about K'del's supposed lack of sincere feelings? >> His tone is still light, more thoughtful than offended - though he will clearly stick by his rider until the very bitter end. << They... make each other feel good. Happy. >> He shares a snatched feeling - a quiver, a sigh of pleasure. His own uncertainty is mixed in, but this, he's sure, is what it's all about. << Of course, Yyth. Of course! >> >>
Dragon> To Cadejoth, Yyth gives a sort of mental shrug, a shiver of uncertainty, a swirl of mire. << I only repeat what he tells me. >> She is unconcerned, unbothered by the same sense of loyalty as he is. She considers what he offers, a sharp clap of amusement and a bang of bright red color responding. << Mine should be happy. Perhaps I should find him someone to enjoy. >> She moves closer to him in the water, an aquatic predator, stalking her prey, though all for amusement. << Well. Of course. >>
Dragon> To Yyth, Cadejoth projects, << K'del always says yours might 'lighten up', if he had someone to enjoy. >> It's a genuine offering, an encouragement. << Of course, of course, of course. >> So: they play.
Location: High Reaches Weyr and surrounds
Synopsis: Yyth wants to be entertained. Cadejoth shows her somewhere interesting.
Dragon> To Cadejoth, Yyth nudges as she unfurls inky tendrils into the deeper blackness. << Are you busy, Cadejoth? >>
Dragon> The faintest shaking rattle accompanies Cadejoth's response, a shivering flicker of moonlight gleaming in contrast to her inky tendrils. << No, >> he says, eager for some as-yet-confirmed revelry. << I'm doing /nothing/. >> (Cadejoth to Yyth)
Dragon> To Cadejoth, Yyth catches on to this eagerness, bending herself like a bit of the wind around the countours of his moonlight. << This is convienent, as I am also doing nothing. Would you care to join me? I was thinking of going flying. >>
Dragon> To Yyth, Cadejoth projects, << Flying? I like flying. >> His enthusiasm for this plan is palpable, the rattle of bones and chains intensifying, plinking and clinking in a rhythm of his very own. Already, his too-thin body is shoved, unceremoniously, off the edge of his ledge and into the air. Flight! Freedom! << Where shall we fly, Yyth? >>
Dragon> There is a lurch and then a hurtling drop before the sort of swift rise that would surely make the pit of P'ax's stomach drop if he'd experienced it with her. She echoes his sentiment of freedom, << Where is your favorite place, Cadejoth? Will you take me there? >> High pitched, too high for human ears to contemplate comfortably, and sweetly persuasive, Yyth wheddles with stroking, spindly fingers of blood. (Yyth to Cadejoth)
Dragon> Freedom! It rings, still, in Cadejoth's mind, as his wings snap out to support his body, carrying him across to meet the smaller green. He finds her spindly, bloody fingers enticing, intriguing, examining them with the single-minded enthusiasm of a small child; oh, she has him, wrapped about just one of those fingers. << I will take you, >> he declares, already reaching out with green-bronze wingtips to take higher into the skies, above and beyond the weyr walls. (Cadejoth to Yyth)
Dragon> To Cadejoth, Yyth banks and then rises, higher, higher, a green smudge angling to meet him there above the Weyr. She grows more of these fingers, letting them wiggle like worms, burrowing in and out of the link between them. << I knew you would, >> she brags effortlessly. Her voice grows into a high, eerie whisper, a wolf's call in the night. << That is why you are my favorite. >>
Dragon> Yyth's eerie whisper is matched, counterpointed, /delighted in/, by Cadejoth's own - a true howl, bone-shaking and moon-toned, eager and expressive. Another wingbeat, another soaring glide, higher and higher. The world below is shrouded in night; Cadejoth flies below the moon, the glow of which turns him greener still. Onwards, is his silent entreaty. /Onwards/. << And because you are mine, I will take you, >> he tells her, bubbling over in excitement, his tail waving through the air: follow, follow. (Cadejoth to Yyth)
Dragon> Will be silver and crimson under the moonlight, a beautiful cast to his patina. She seems pleased by the contrast they make, pleased by the black sky and the smooth glide of wings through the chill night air. Pleased by his response. << I come, >> she assures, reigning in her natural speed to stay by his shoulder. << Where are we going? >> (Yyth to Cadejoth)
Dragon> Wingbeat for wingbeat, well matched, thanks to her reigned in speed, though Cadejoth valiantly hastens his so as not to limit her too much. He's pleased by the companionship, the /doing/ - as always, his thoughts ripple with those chains, and a howling echo of contentedness. << Do you really want to know? It could be a surprise. I like surprises. Or I could show you, now, and we could just go. >> (Cadejoth to Yyth)
Dragon> << Surprise. >> She rolls the idea around in her mind for a bit. << Yes, a surprise, >> she agrees. << Is it far? >> She dips one wing, indulging in a lazy spiral that brings her away from him and back again, above him so that her mind picks up the way the moon outlines him, the color bouncing back into her own mindvoice to tint her thoughts. (Yyth to Cadejoth)
Dragon> To Yyth, Cadejoth clearly envies her that ability to roll and spiral like that, and he watches in fascination, admiring this ability, enthusing over it without so much as speaking a word. The moons play heavily in his thoughts, the silvered green shades tinting everything, not so different from her own touch, a happy match. << Surprise! Good. I like surprises, too. They're fun. So long as they're good ones, and this is. Not far, not far. >>
Dragon> To Cadejoth, Yyth tips curiously towards this envy. << You could try it, >> she coaxes gently, thinking of the way they'd be in harmony if he could follow her maneuvers. << I'm sure all of your surprises are good, Cadejoth. >>
Dragon> To Yyth, Cadejoth is not, in the end, terribly predisposed to actual moping; he declines the coaxing, instead projecting an image of himself, as seen through another's eyes, of gracelessly mangling the move. << I'm not built for it, Yyth. But it's fine: you are, so I will enjoy you doing it. We all have our strengths. >> For the latter, there's only an unspoken certainty: yes, they certainly are. He tilts on a wingtip, arcing lower in the sky, towards a tree-shaded area half hidden amidst the mountains below.
Dragon> To Cadejoth, Yyth will allow it. << It's okay, >> she assures him, slightly amused. << I still fall on my nose when I try to land. So you can be better at that than I am. >> She follows him, tipping her wings to take her lower in his wake. << Is that it? >>
Dragon> To Yyth, Cadejoth finds contentment in this. After all, are they all not good at what they are good at, and not so good at other things, letting others shine? << Here, >> he agrees, hurtling between trees with the ease of one who has done this before, and knows where he's going; a moment later, the trees clear, and he has hurtled into a silvered, moonlit lake with a mighty splash.
Dragon> To Cadejoth, Yyth is more cautious with her plunge, waiting until the trees open before decending into them. Well, at least belly flopping into the lake requires less grace than attempting to set down on the ground. She folds her wings and plummets, the water parting around her with a great wave that swamps the nearest shore. << Ah, I see why this is your favorite. >>
Dragon> To Yyth, Cadejoth's trumpet of delight, howl-like and bond-tingling, is physical as well as mental. << Isn't it perfect? All moon-filled and secluded and /perfect/. K'del brings girls here. So I brought you. >>
Dragon> To Cadejoth, Yyth sinks into the water, so that only her topline rises out of it, sitting on the bottom of lakebed. << It is delightful, >> she agrees. Then, serious, << I hope I mean more to you than the girls yours brings here. Mine seems to think that he has no ... sincere feelings... for anyone. >>
Dragon> To Yyth, Cadejoth drops his wings, so that they float atop the water, letting it ripple about him. << He does, too, >> he defends his rider, immediately insistent. << He cares for lots of people. He just doesn't have to /love/ them to want to enjoy them. >> This 'love' concept is something Cadejoth is uncertain of - he's clearly taking thoughts from his rider. << But you mean a lot to me, anyway, Yyth. >>
Dragon> To Cadejoth, Yyth doesn't understand the distinction. << Mine doesn't love anyone but me, >> she announces smugly. There is a pause. << I see. >> She doesn't. << What is... enjoying? >> Having never ventured anywhere near that concept with hers, it is a foreign issue. << As you should. As I deserve. >>
Dragon> To Yyth, Cadejoth projects, << Then how can he complain about K'del's supposed lack of sincere feelings? >> His tone is still light, more thoughtful than offended - though he will clearly stick by his rider until the very bitter end. << They... make each other feel good. Happy. >> He shares a snatched feeling - a quiver, a sigh of pleasure. His own uncertainty is mixed in, but this, he's sure, is what it's all about. << Of course, Yyth. Of course! >> >>
Dragon> To Cadejoth, Yyth gives a sort of mental shrug, a shiver of uncertainty, a swirl of mire. << I only repeat what he tells me. >> She is unconcerned, unbothered by the same sense of loyalty as he is. She considers what he offers, a sharp clap of amusement and a bang of bright red color responding. << Mine should be happy. Perhaps I should find him someone to enjoy. >> She moves closer to him in the water, an aquatic predator, stalking her prey, though all for amusement. << Well. Of course. >>
Dragon> To Yyth, Cadejoth projects, << K'del always says yours might 'lighten up', if he had someone to enjoy. >> It's a genuine offering, an encouragement. << Of course, of course, of course. >> So: they play.