Log: Visiting B'rin
RL: April 25, 2008.
VR: Day 26, month 2, Turn 16, of the Interval. It is a winter morning.
Vrianth and Leova fly to Ista Weyr to visit Basq and meet his Xorvith.
Vrianth flies quickly in the strong gusts, angling ever downward.
Vrianth circles once, if something so look-this-way look-that-way erratic can be called that, and down she goes.
Northwest Bowl -- Ista Weyr
The morning sun streams over the corral's fences to the west. To the southeast, the bowl widens out as it approaches the far side of towering black rock and the high fingers, five jutting peaks, high above. The black and gray rock of the bowl is devoid of any green or colour, except for the hundreds of dragons seen on ledges all along the Weyr walls. The Weyrling Barracks to the north open wide in a double-arch.
The dry winter season relieves Ista Island of its humidity, replacing it with light, buoyant air. This morning, clouds interrupt the sky and a turbulent wind gusts violently, howling around the peaks of the Weyr.
Nearby the barracks in the bowl stand a certain weyrling oiling his brown dragon - all 8 meters long of him. B'rin had wanted to take a bath, but his plans were cut short by cries of an itchy hide, so here he is now in the weyrbowl, with paddle and oil, set out to the work of soothing his lifemate's itches and dry hide before it can cause any damage - and it is taking great physical and mental effort between both dragon and rider to keep the former still to get the job done. It can be seen that, even as B'rin is oiling the little brown, that he is twitching in place. B'rin is then surprised when Vrianth arrives and Xorvith greets the green with a trumpet, thrusting upward with his forelegs and then settling back to the ground. The former stablehand seems rather surprised when he notices the rider on the green's back. "Leova!" And then, "Ista's duties!"
Vrianth senses that Xorvith makes his presence known in the green's mind, like the rays of Rukbat peeking over the far horizon in the early morning. However, this light quickly becomes brighter and brighter, as Vrianth is bombarded by questions. << Hello! Where did you come from? You're big, wonder how long it'll take me to become big? What's it like where you come from? >>
Oil. Oil! Even with her rider looking for Xorvith's anyway, this makes it that much better a coincidence for Vrianth, who crouches low enough to give the littler dragon a good looking over. But not too low. Not with all the little brown's energy. Her rider calls down, "'Reaches duties, Basq. B'rin, I mean. But all right if you get called that sometimes?"
Xorvith senses Vrianth's gravelly thoughts at once soak up the seeming sunlight and shield her inner mind, but though there's a wariness to her, she doesn't mind answering. << Home. >> And, << Forever. >> And, << Different. >> Not very helpful, is it? Bright sparks must be humor.
"Sure, why not?" B'rin calls back up to Leova, an amused grin on his face as he quickly spares the greenrider a glance, before continuing to oil the currently energetic brown. "So what brings you here to Ista? Is it the warmth?" Just as he says this question, the weyrling hits a sweet spot, and Xorvith croons loudly in pleasure.
She laughs. "Not today, it wouldn't be. Mostly to see you. Make sure things are," and then Leova finally can't ignore Vrianth's edging closer and closer to the oil bucket. The young green's eyes are so bright, so intense, and her mind must be that much stronger. "Mind if I use some? Not as if she hasn't been oiled. Maybe you know how it is by now. Things all right?"
Vrianth senses that Xorvith there is no time to ponder why he is only being given vague one-word answers, as his train of thought becomes faster and faster. Lightning is firing at rapid pace, and Vrianth could get the impression of a brainstorm coming from the young brown. << Has yours met B'rin? >> And then, on that note, he asks, << B'rin talks about cold white place. >> Vrianth receives several rapid-fire, lightning strike and somewhat blurry images of what could very well be a snow-covered High Reaches Weyr. << What is cold? Why was this place white? >>
Xorvith senses Vrianth takes it one step at a time, and she's pleased to soak up the lightning-energy too, close kin to her own electric nature. << Yes. Before you found him. >> If the young one can even comprehend such a time. But to the rest of what Xorvith asks, there are those bright sparks again, followed by an intense sensation of true cold: not High Reaches but the utter fathomless cold of /between/.
"I'm flattered!" B'rin laughs in response, before going on to say, "Sure. I think I have enough here for you to use some and to cover Xorvith here." He dips the paddle back into the bucket, and then continues to slather the oil onto the twitching brown. Suddenly, the brown shivers, as if things have just gotten much, much colder. "Yeah, things are all right," he grins goofily, and continues, "I'm beginning to see the point of the our schedules as Candidates. It's almost the same as weyrlings, only we have dragons to take care of, and we're much, much, smellier in the process." He chuckles, and then moves on to say, "it's interesting. It hasn't been that long since I've Impressed, and yet I can't exactly imagine life without Xorvith." Of course, doesn't any dragonrider feel like that?
Vrianth senses that Xorvith senses some sort of confusion, as his bright mental sunlight suddenly shatters into many brightly glowing pieces, the storm only picking up in intensity, and his mindvoice takes a much higher, more brilliant pitch than before. << What was that? Why is it so... so... is that cold? Will I feel that? >>
"Thanks." Leova strips out of her jacket, hooking it onto the suddenly helpful Vrianth's straps, and pushes up her sleeves. Right as she's about to reach in, though, her eyes focus on Xorvith. And then she looks at Vrianth. And looks back again. "Can tell you one thing, don't miss the smell." Oil drips through her fingers but she doesn't spill a drop, not with that smooth green neck moving right under her hand. "Think he wants you to? Be able to imagine that, I mean."
Xorvith senses Vrianth sends quite firmly though not unkindly, << Slow down. Slow down, and I will tell you. >> The nature of her thought encompasses not purely speed but intensity and, yes, pitch.
"Actually, I wouldn't be too surprised if he does," B'rin's response would probably come as a surprise. "He asks me a lot about what I was like before that day on the Sands - of course, I haven't been able to come up with a good response to it." He grins at the brown, before looking up at Vrianth, and back to oiling the young brown again.
Vrianth senses that Xorvith has a flurry of convective storm activity, as if the request is simply too much for him to process. However, the bright lights of the mental lightning begin to subside, as his mental progress begins to slow down - and, for once, he's all ears to what Vrianth has to say, right now. << Oh-kay. >>
"Tell him you were about this tall," and Leova gestures knee-height before Vrianth preempts her hand again. "And cried a lot." It's not that she's smiling, except for the spark in her eyes as she gets back to rubbing oil along the base of her dragon's neck ridges. Vrianth never having been one to keep her emotions to herself, the warmth might be palpable. "You and the rest of the class getting on all right?"
Better. Vrianth rewards him with a sudden sense of warmth underlaid by tiny, tingly sparks. << That is the nothing-place. >> That is where they send bad dragonets who are too loud and wiggly? No. << We go through it. But first you must fly. >> There's a dim recollection of a Vrianth too small and unpracticed to fly, but although it stems from her beloved Leova, Vrianth herself seems hard-pressed to believe it. Still, she shares. Why not? (Vrianth to Xorvith)
B'rin snorts at Leova's jest, and replies with a rather sarcastic, "Yeah, right." The weyrling continues his oiling, and seems rather surprised when he notices that, even if it might be brief, that the young brown has stopped his jittery twitching. B'rin looks up at Vrianth, before continuing with his work. "Yeah, I think, so far, most of us are much too busy and exhausted to have any drama." He chuckles lightly.
Vrianth senses that Xorvith emits a warm mental aura, his voice proudly and confidently deepening as he not only understands the concept being presented to him, but the fact that he calmed himself down to have these facts presented to him. << I will learn to fly. >>
Leova says with a lift of her shoulders, and now she is smiling, "If it works." Her Vrianth, when B'rin looks at her, is lazy-lidded and to all appearances content. Maybe even harmless. Although her tail is snugly wrapped around her Leova's legs. "Good luck in keeping that up. Any particular friends in the group? Milani says hello, by the way. Couple others. F'ren."
More praise from Vrianth, though since it's Xorvith, she doesn't go heavy on the sparks. But for all that, she isn't the best example in the end. << Today? >> It certainly is taking him a long time. Why, she can barely remember him hatching any more, it was so long ago. (Vrianth to Xorvith)
B'rin smiles, and nods in response. It would appear that Xorvith's oiling is almost complete, and the former stablehand is relieved for this. "Sure there are, several, in face. Andy, Xie, Fayre - " he stops for a moment, realizing that he himself is forgetting the honorifics. "Well... An'dren and X'lar, now. And there's more," he says, his train of thought half-distracted as he works diligently at one spot. "Tell them I say hello back, then, and that I'm doing well." Grin.
Vrianth senses that Xorvith is confused again, and the mental storm returns as lightning strikes again and again. Eventually, there is the question, << I don't know. I don't think so. >> And then, << When will I fly? It sounds like fun. >>
She even chuckles as he changes the names around. "I'll do that. And," Leova rubs one last handful of oil into Vrianth's hide, lower now, by the base of her near wing. "Better get on with messages. Just wanted to drop in on you and your Xorvith, hm?" She pronounces it carefully but correctly before moving back to where she can climb atop Vrianth's neck when the dragon gets around to letting her.
Xorvith senses Vrianth absorbs more of that energy with some patience. But nowhere near limitless patience. << Too loud, >> she says simply. << I will not tell you. >> And Vrianth can be obdurate as rock.
"Thanks for dropping by!" B'rin replies as Leova mounts onto Vrianth. "Have fun delivering messages, too!" He says with a chuckle, and with one last parting salute, he returns to oiling Xorvith. Not too much longer to go, now.
Leova snaps a buckle. Waves. And after only a few steps away, up Vrianth goes.
VR: Day 26, month 2, Turn 16, of the Interval. It is a winter morning.
Vrianth and Leova fly to Ista Weyr to visit Basq and meet his Xorvith.
Vrianth flies quickly in the strong gusts, angling ever downward.
Vrianth circles once, if something so look-this-way look-that-way erratic can be called that, and down she goes.
Northwest Bowl -- Ista Weyr
The morning sun streams over the corral's fences to the west. To the southeast, the bowl widens out as it approaches the far side of towering black rock and the high fingers, five jutting peaks, high above. The black and gray rock of the bowl is devoid of any green or colour, except for the hundreds of dragons seen on ledges all along the Weyr walls. The Weyrling Barracks to the north open wide in a double-arch.
The dry winter season relieves Ista Island of its humidity, replacing it with light, buoyant air. This morning, clouds interrupt the sky and a turbulent wind gusts violently, howling around the peaks of the Weyr.
Nearby the barracks in the bowl stand a certain weyrling oiling his brown dragon - all 8 meters long of him. B'rin had wanted to take a bath, but his plans were cut short by cries of an itchy hide, so here he is now in the weyrbowl, with paddle and oil, set out to the work of soothing his lifemate's itches and dry hide before it can cause any damage - and it is taking great physical and mental effort between both dragon and rider to keep the former still to get the job done. It can be seen that, even as B'rin is oiling the little brown, that he is twitching in place. B'rin is then surprised when Vrianth arrives and Xorvith greets the green with a trumpet, thrusting upward with his forelegs and then settling back to the ground. The former stablehand seems rather surprised when he notices the rider on the green's back. "Leova!" And then, "Ista's duties!"
Vrianth senses that Xorvith makes his presence known in the green's mind, like the rays of Rukbat peeking over the far horizon in the early morning. However, this light quickly becomes brighter and brighter, as Vrianth is bombarded by questions. << Hello! Where did you come from? You're big, wonder how long it'll take me to become big? What's it like where you come from? >>
Oil. Oil! Even with her rider looking for Xorvith's anyway, this makes it that much better a coincidence for Vrianth, who crouches low enough to give the littler dragon a good looking over. But not too low. Not with all the little brown's energy. Her rider calls down, "'Reaches duties, Basq. B'rin, I mean. But all right if you get called that sometimes?"
Xorvith senses Vrianth's gravelly thoughts at once soak up the seeming sunlight and shield her inner mind, but though there's a wariness to her, she doesn't mind answering. << Home. >> And, << Forever. >> And, << Different. >> Not very helpful, is it? Bright sparks must be humor.
"Sure, why not?" B'rin calls back up to Leova, an amused grin on his face as he quickly spares the greenrider a glance, before continuing to oil the currently energetic brown. "So what brings you here to Ista? Is it the warmth?" Just as he says this question, the weyrling hits a sweet spot, and Xorvith croons loudly in pleasure.
She laughs. "Not today, it wouldn't be. Mostly to see you. Make sure things are," and then Leova finally can't ignore Vrianth's edging closer and closer to the oil bucket. The young green's eyes are so bright, so intense, and her mind must be that much stronger. "Mind if I use some? Not as if she hasn't been oiled. Maybe you know how it is by now. Things all right?"
Vrianth senses that Xorvith there is no time to ponder why he is only being given vague one-word answers, as his train of thought becomes faster and faster. Lightning is firing at rapid pace, and Vrianth could get the impression of a brainstorm coming from the young brown. << Has yours met B'rin? >> And then, on that note, he asks, << B'rin talks about cold white place. >> Vrianth receives several rapid-fire, lightning strike and somewhat blurry images of what could very well be a snow-covered High Reaches Weyr. << What is cold? Why was this place white? >>
Xorvith senses Vrianth takes it one step at a time, and she's pleased to soak up the lightning-energy too, close kin to her own electric nature. << Yes. Before you found him. >> If the young one can even comprehend such a time. But to the rest of what Xorvith asks, there are those bright sparks again, followed by an intense sensation of true cold: not High Reaches but the utter fathomless cold of /between/.
"I'm flattered!" B'rin laughs in response, before going on to say, "Sure. I think I have enough here for you to use some and to cover Xorvith here." He dips the paddle back into the bucket, and then continues to slather the oil onto the twitching brown. Suddenly, the brown shivers, as if things have just gotten much, much colder. "Yeah, things are all right," he grins goofily, and continues, "I'm beginning to see the point of the our schedules as Candidates. It's almost the same as weyrlings, only we have dragons to take care of, and we're much, much, smellier in the process." He chuckles, and then moves on to say, "it's interesting. It hasn't been that long since I've Impressed, and yet I can't exactly imagine life without Xorvith." Of course, doesn't any dragonrider feel like that?
Vrianth senses that Xorvith senses some sort of confusion, as his bright mental sunlight suddenly shatters into many brightly glowing pieces, the storm only picking up in intensity, and his mindvoice takes a much higher, more brilliant pitch than before. << What was that? Why is it so... so... is that cold? Will I feel that? >>
"Thanks." Leova strips out of her jacket, hooking it onto the suddenly helpful Vrianth's straps, and pushes up her sleeves. Right as she's about to reach in, though, her eyes focus on Xorvith. And then she looks at Vrianth. And looks back again. "Can tell you one thing, don't miss the smell." Oil drips through her fingers but she doesn't spill a drop, not with that smooth green neck moving right under her hand. "Think he wants you to? Be able to imagine that, I mean."
Xorvith senses Vrianth sends quite firmly though not unkindly, << Slow down. Slow down, and I will tell you. >> The nature of her thought encompasses not purely speed but intensity and, yes, pitch.
"Actually, I wouldn't be too surprised if he does," B'rin's response would probably come as a surprise. "He asks me a lot about what I was like before that day on the Sands - of course, I haven't been able to come up with a good response to it." He grins at the brown, before looking up at Vrianth, and back to oiling the young brown again.
Vrianth senses that Xorvith has a flurry of convective storm activity, as if the request is simply too much for him to process. However, the bright lights of the mental lightning begin to subside, as his mental progress begins to slow down - and, for once, he's all ears to what Vrianth has to say, right now. << Oh-kay. >>
"Tell him you were about this tall," and Leova gestures knee-height before Vrianth preempts her hand again. "And cried a lot." It's not that she's smiling, except for the spark in her eyes as she gets back to rubbing oil along the base of her dragon's neck ridges. Vrianth never having been one to keep her emotions to herself, the warmth might be palpable. "You and the rest of the class getting on all right?"
Better. Vrianth rewards him with a sudden sense of warmth underlaid by tiny, tingly sparks. << That is the nothing-place. >> That is where they send bad dragonets who are too loud and wiggly? No. << We go through it. But first you must fly. >> There's a dim recollection of a Vrianth too small and unpracticed to fly, but although it stems from her beloved Leova, Vrianth herself seems hard-pressed to believe it. Still, she shares. Why not? (Vrianth to Xorvith)
B'rin snorts at Leova's jest, and replies with a rather sarcastic, "Yeah, right." The weyrling continues his oiling, and seems rather surprised when he notices that, even if it might be brief, that the young brown has stopped his jittery twitching. B'rin looks up at Vrianth, before continuing with his work. "Yeah, I think, so far, most of us are much too busy and exhausted to have any drama." He chuckles lightly.
Vrianth senses that Xorvith emits a warm mental aura, his voice proudly and confidently deepening as he not only understands the concept being presented to him, but the fact that he calmed himself down to have these facts presented to him. << I will learn to fly. >>
Leova says with a lift of her shoulders, and now she is smiling, "If it works." Her Vrianth, when B'rin looks at her, is lazy-lidded and to all appearances content. Maybe even harmless. Although her tail is snugly wrapped around her Leova's legs. "Good luck in keeping that up. Any particular friends in the group? Milani says hello, by the way. Couple others. F'ren."
More praise from Vrianth, though since it's Xorvith, she doesn't go heavy on the sparks. But for all that, she isn't the best example in the end. << Today? >> It certainly is taking him a long time. Why, she can barely remember him hatching any more, it was so long ago. (Vrianth to Xorvith)
B'rin smiles, and nods in response. It would appear that Xorvith's oiling is almost complete, and the former stablehand is relieved for this. "Sure there are, several, in face. Andy, Xie, Fayre - " he stops for a moment, realizing that he himself is forgetting the honorifics. "Well... An'dren and X'lar, now. And there's more," he says, his train of thought half-distracted as he works diligently at one spot. "Tell them I say hello back, then, and that I'm doing well." Grin.
Vrianth senses that Xorvith is confused again, and the mental storm returns as lightning strikes again and again. Eventually, there is the question, << I don't know. I don't think so. >> And then, << When will I fly? It sounds like fun. >>
She even chuckles as he changes the names around. "I'll do that. And," Leova rubs one last handful of oil into Vrianth's hide, lower now, by the base of her near wing. "Better get on with messages. Just wanted to drop in on you and your Xorvith, hm?" She pronounces it carefully but correctly before moving back to where she can climb atop Vrianth's neck when the dragon gets around to letting her.
Xorvith senses Vrianth absorbs more of that energy with some patience. But nowhere near limitless patience. << Too loud, >> she says simply. << I will not tell you. >> And Vrianth can be obdurate as rock.
"Thanks for dropping by!" B'rin replies as Leova mounts onto Vrianth. "Have fun delivering messages, too!" He says with a chuckle, and with one last parting salute, he returns to oiling Xorvith. Not too much longer to go, now.
Leova snaps a buckle. Waves. And after only a few steps away, up Vrianth goes.