Log: Popping by Persie's
RL: May 3, 2008.
VR: Day 31, month 3, Turn 16, of the Interval. It is a spring late afternoon.
Leova visits Persie and admires her color choices. Secath confuses Vrianth so she plays with Malsaeth. The greenriders talk about moving, traders, curtains, and life after the barracks.
Persie's Prismatic Weyr
There's the ledge, broad and simple, and Secath's sheltered hollow, but these things are rather unassuming, particularly in comparison to the home Persie has made for herself. Her own space is overrun by mess and color. There are things everywhere: clothes, random items, dishes. A few large pieces of furniture define the separate spaces within the room. The bed is wide and low, its frame barely visible beneath the overstuffed mattress and the piles of brightly colored blankets and patterned pillows. There's a little table, two chairs and a large blue cabinet, all with their paint chipping off, and over by the hearth there is a brilliantly purple sofa and a llama skin rug dyed tangerine orange.
As the dragons land and the riders dismount, Persie leads Leova into the weyr, her smile already wide and sheepish. "It's sort of messy, just to warn you..." And Persie pauses at the threshold to look over her weyr with the eye of someone seeing the place for the first time. "This is it." Her bites her lips in, hiding them.
There's a slow blink from Leova as it registers. So much of it. And then she exclaims, "Pillows! Look at those pillows. And Shanlee, she would love that rug," what can be seen of it.
Persie starts to laugh, a giggle of sorts. "I... well, yeah. I have pillows. I don't know, I just... pick stuff up." But her smile will turn a bit proud for the praise of the rug. "It's really soft, too. It feel great barefoot. I think it sort of turned my feet orange, though. Maybe. I'm not sure." And with her wait on one leg, the foot of the other draws behind her to wobble her heel back and forth with her toe on the ground.
That draws Leova's eye, though of course she can't see orange soles with Persie's shoes on and all. "Mind if I take my boots off?" Out on the ledge, Vrianth settles into the evening, looking this way and that to see whether she can spot Secath's neighbors.
A spark flicks out of nowhere. No immediate source: just that tiny shock at the edge of consciousness. (Vrianth to Malsaeth)
<< There's a blue, >> Secath notes, tipping her head one way toward the neighboring ledge. << And a brown, but he has a mate. >> And for that he is totally written off. Inside the weyr, Persie springs to life. "Oh yeah. Sure! Go head. Here I'll get you a chair." Because, you see, to offer a chair, she first has to clear it off. The wad of discarded clothing gets lifted with both arms and deposited on top of the pile on the table and then she turns the chair around for the ease of Leova's boot removal.
Vrianth senses that Malsaeth puzzles over this spark, trying to see it from every angle before prodding it with his own thoughts, emphasized by thunder in the background.
Leova matter-of-factly puts that boot right on top of the chair's seat, the way she wouldn't have dared to do before the dragons were /betweening/, and starts unlacing. She makes a quick job of it, too, stuffing the sock down inside before working on the other. Meanwhile, "Thanks. Pretty something, isn't it, not living in a barracks any longer and having your stuff all how you like it." Vrianth meanwhile looks where her Secath directs, though there's puzzlement too. << They all have riders. >> Don't they?
The spark hovers there, beginning to fade until his attention fuels it to glow that much more brightly. A certain amount of prodding it accepts, just a little. When the young dragon pokes too much at it, though? It's gone. Vanished. Maybe it was fragile. Or maybe it just didn't like it. (Vrianth to Malsaeth)
Butt on the chair, boot on the chair, it's all the same to Persie. She shucks off her own boots simply by tugging them off and dropping them where she stands, apparely her laces are loose enough for that. Her socks stay on, though, a sort of charteause shade with white toes. "I like it. I mean, it's been a while since I lived in the barracks so... I had more stuff, I think, before I moved. I tried to get rid of some things." But she wrinkles one side of her nose as she scans her home. "I guess mostly I just left the furniture behind. It wasn't mine anyway. It was the Weyr's." And Secath just breathes out, sort of ho-hum. << Yes. He has a mate, though, too. >> The fool.
Vrianth senses that Malsaeth considers the spark as it hovers and soon vanishes. Amused, the young bronze decides to show his own spark. A flash of molten core cracked, his true being, not so confident, but not so weak either. Moments last while the crack seems to grow, and then... Gone. A flash of lightning from the clouds of his thoughts, using it to his advantage to light his way to find the other spark, perhaps in search of it now that it has vanished.
<< Too. >> Flickering static, but Vrianth doesn't immediately follow up: perhaps she thinks herself unlikely to get more, perhaps she's distracted. Her rider does have a lot to look at, after all. "At least you didn't have to move it." The boots get an easy overhand knot of their laces, not anything that will make it hard to undo, and Leova tosses them over by the entrance where she can be pretty sure of finding them again. Probably. "Hate moving furniture. Hate it, hate it."
No motion when he reveals that core self, nor does the lightning illuminate anything of use. A dusting of ash, perhaps, at the most. But when the lightning's gone, there's another spark formed seemingly from it, only unlike the first one, this darts around. Not too quickly. Just fits and starts. Up, down, jinking sideways. (Vrianth to Malsaeth)
Vrianth senses that Malsaeth watches this new spark from aways. No use in prodding if it's just going to go away. Though he keeps his distance, his attention is still centred upon that sideways jinking spark. Large clouds gather and rain falls, providing the perfect cover, perhaps even the perfect place to nurture this newly formed spark.
"Well, I had to move a good bit up here. The bed was here. And the cabinet isn't so bad when it's emptied and stuff." But Persie's eyes drift to the purple couch which does looks like it would be rather heavy and cumbersome. "Milani found it for me, the couch. It lucky I ran into her when I did. I'm sure someone else would have taken it." There -is- plenty to look at. Beyond the assortment of clothes, there are things everywhere. A pair of pink shoes on the mantle and two little wooden birds. More birds hanging on strings by the bed like some sparsely birded curtain. A mobile of shells. A pink basin full of balled up socks. The list goes on and on.
"Taken it in an instant," Leova agrees with every indication of sincerity. "Can get pretty gray out here, good to have color. And something comfortable." She picks her way towards the hearth and its rug. And the couch. Birds. She looks at the birds. The ones on the mantel, the curtain of birds. Nodding to that last, "Lujayn's got this thing sort of like that only it has beads on. She said Tavrie had it there before her. Catches the light real nice." And then, last of all, she carefully steps onto the rug. Barefoot.
Things were going just fine until the rain started falling. One drop makes it fizz. Other drops miss it, but the next drop makes it fizzle. And the last one that hits dead center makes it go away entirely. Better luck next time? (Vrianth to Malsaeth)
Vrianth senses that Malsaeth's disappointment at the spark soon fizzling away is limned with another lightning strike, stirred by the disappearance. Or perhaps his own rainy thoughts as the cause of said fizzling. The young bronze provides a spark of his own, using the last bit of electricity from his lightning to form his own, a small orb of bright staticity.
And he's lucky this time, because a third spark that isn't his is there when the lighting recedes. As long as the water doesn't keep falling, or at least doesn't land on it. It darts close to his own, larger spark and then keeps on going, circling around at the last. (Vrianth to Malsaeth)
"I like color," Persie says simply and understatedly, her attention more on following Leova's perusal of her myriad belonging and decorations. "I want to make one of those sometime, those beaded curtains. Oh, I wonder if the traders have beads. They tend to have those sorts of things, don't they? I had that pouch of them that we used to make dragon eyes, but I don't think there's really enough left for a curtain." And then the rug. "It's nice, isn't it?" Her voice lighting up as she trots over to plop herself on the couch with a leg tossed over the arm. "When it's really cold and the fire is going, it's good for a nap, too. A little hard underneath though," admitted with a giggle.
"They might! Don't know." When Leova's bare feet don't land on anything poky or crunchy or gooey, she winds up just lowering herself the rest of the way down onto the rug and leaning against the side of the couch, though not so close to Persie's end that she's likely to get whapped if the other greenrider's feet start going astray. So far, "Comfortable enough for me, anyway. The traders, though? Niena was saying she heard some things were going missing with them around. Don't know that it's true. But maybe we should be careful anyway."
Vrianth senses that Malsaeth knows better now, perhaps, as there's no rain. No breeze. It's almost like the calm before a storm in its preternatural majesty. Chaos may be on the outs, but this centre, where he makes that larger spark glow, is as quiet as it can be. The younger bronze makes the spherical spark spin on its axis as that smaller spark orbits around his own.
To the extent it's an orbit, it's an eccentric one. The smaller spark does seem tugged towards his as though with some gravitational force, but that also slingshots it out and away again, back and away, at least until it hovers at a distance: perhaps the larger spark might try dancing like this, too. (Vrianth to Malsaeth)
"What kinds of things?" Persie wonders, brows drawn together as she picks up a piece of her hair to fiddle with. "Like... people's things? So, like, if they had beads, they'd be stolen beads?" Her nose wrinkles again.
"Beads maybe, or jewelry, I don't know." Leova sighs, picking at her fingernails. "Glittery things. Don't remember exactly. Was sort of out of it."
Vrianth senses that Malsaeth sends his larger spark out to chase the smaller one in much the same eccentric slingshotting pattern, rising to the challenge of this particular electric dance. While the larger spark is slower than perhaps the quicker, smaller spark, it endures no matter what.
Conveniently for the larger spark, the smaller one isn't trying to outdo it particularly: though its turns are unpredictable, its speed considerable, it's just enough to push the larger one without getting too far away. It's also turning from white to a brighter blue-green. (Vrianth to Malsaeth)
"Like a bird? I hear they pick up shiny things sometimes... Well, probably not quite so innocent as all that, huh." Persie starts brushing the ends of that blonde bit of hair against her chin, thoughtful-like. "Have you talked to many of them? The traders?" Just in case Leova might think Persie is refering to shiny-stealing birds.
"If it's true," Leova agrees. "Don't want to be spreading rumors if it's not. Just, careful." She draws her knees up, slightly spread, and sticks her elbows on them. "Not really talked, for long anyway. Hello in the lunch line. That sort of thing. There was one that walked into the baths, wasn't so long after they arrived."
Vrianth senses that Malsaeth seems to like convenience, taking what he can get. As the white spark that it follows turns to a brighter blue-green shade, the larger spark seems to compliment it by making itself a searing ruddy red. The change is more subtle than the smaller spark's change, as if it almost revels in the change from white hot to bright crimson, all the while following that same pattern as the smaller spark takes in the mind space.
As his spark turns to that searing, perhaps angry-seeming red, the blue-green spark starts keeping a greater distance. And it begins to pale again. Getting closer to white, now. (Vrianth to Malsaeth)
Vrianth senses that Malsaeth is all the more happy to play this game, changing from ruddy red to white as well, in keeping with the other smaller spark it follows. While the color changes to the white, its movement speeds up, but only so that the distance between it and the smaller spark is less of an issue; it's almost as if that bigger spark is only trying to keep up.
"Right. Yeah. I haven't really met any of them. There was that guy who walked by at the lake. He seemed nice enough, I guess. Or not... un-nice." Persie purses her lips, and then lets all this troubling stealing talk drift away. "Right. No rumors." However, the lightened mood only lasts a moment. "Where were they before here? Like, what hold did they visit last? Does anyone know?"
"Right, him. Half-forgot," Leova admits. "Forgot why I ran off, too, probably Vrianth, but did much happen after I went?" Her toes wiggle through the llama fleece rug. Poor llama. Happy toes, though. "No idea which hold. One said something about just this general area. 'Reaches. Nabol maybe."
Once it's white again, the distance narrows, the smaller spark regains some color. Just a little, tentatively perhaps, as though to see whether the larger will return to red. Or just pink. (Vrianth to Malsaeth)
"Not really. He didn't seem to want to talk much. He just walked by, really." Persie only gives a shrug, dropping her hair and flipping it over her shoulder again. "I bet, if they were stealers," she means theives, "that they'd know about it at the last place they were at. Maybe." Her gaze wanders the room. "Do you like those beaded things? The curtain things?"
Leova's nod recognizes the walking by. "Good idea, last place and all." She turns partway, elbow lifting to rest on the couch and be a pillow for her head, making it easier to see Persie sometimes. "Wonder if it's really them, or someone saying it might be them, or people just forgetting where they put things and wanting to blame it on someone," only by then she's just trailing off, focus failing. Beads. Curtains. Them. "Sure were pretty. Caught the light sort of. And they weren't so big I'd forget and knock my head on them when I went by, you know?"
Vrianth senses that Malsaeth blends in rather well, or perhaps it is the simple thrill of the electric dance. If the smaller spark regains some of its colour, so does he. Though, rather than turn a light pink or even bright crimson, the larger spark turns a variation of something in the middle: a soft copper hue.
The copper hue gets the littler spark even brighter than it had been, pausing in place to bounce up and down in a minute dance. And then it waits: your turn. Go ahead. (Vrianth to Malsaeth)
"It's probably just a confusion. Where did Niena hear it anyway?" Persie just makes a face, ready once again to brush the whole thing off. She tips her head against the back of the couch. "How's your wing? I miss seeing you all the time. All of you guys."
Leova shrugs some, and whether it's because she can read at least that much body language or she's feeling the same way, "Maybe I'll ask Shanlee sometime." Wing talk gets the corners of her mouth turning up. "Good. Miss you too. Nice to have the four of us. B'yan's being pretty patient, and K'del's all right, neither of them letting us slack. How's the cleaning?"
Vrianth senses that Malsaeth seems to be greatly amused by the up and down motion of this little spark. As the little spark waits for the rusty hued larger spark, it dances in its own way. Rather than simply duplicate the smaller spark's dance (after all, where's the fun in that!?), the coppery spark moves side to side, as if being juggled by invisible hands. After a minute, the larger spark stops.
The littler spark doesn't mind duplicating. Except, well. After a few side to sides, it becomes more of an arc, springing higher in the middle. (Vrianth to Malsaeth)
Vrianth senses that Malsaeth watches as that little spark duplicates his own little dancing move. As the smaller spark springs higher in the middle, the bigger spark decides to do a different movement. Rather than look like its being juggled, the larger rust colored spark seems to zig-zag a distance and come back to where it started, leaving contrails of static as it goes. And then, after a moment, it waits, a challenge for the smaller spark now.
But the smaller spark's already in motion, moving to override and erase the bits of static along the larger's path. Bad, untidy, wasteful static. (Vrianth to Malsaeth)
"It's quiet. I still... I don't know if I did the right thing. Secath is bored." Persie is rather sunken against the back of the couch now, her eyes down but for a few flicks up at Leova. "We've been traveling around, mostly. It gives her a chance to stretch her wings." Breath. Smile. "Are you keeping up alright? With the wing?"
If Leova can't blame Secath, she doesn't say so. "Traveling sounds like fun, for both of you really. Anywhere you want. Go visit family, at all?" After that she lifts a shoulder, lets it fall. "Think we are. Hardest for W'jar, maybe. But you know Niena. And Rhadruth really tries... Talk to Fraya if you see her, though? She's been real quiet."
Vrianth senses that Malsaeth watches the smaller spark clean up after his trail, like a magnetic vacuum. Rather than zig-zag, he tests just how fast she can erase said static as he jets forward speedily, leaving one very long trail of it behind.
The blue-green spark starts on that trail, but then it becomes white again and bounces up and down. Not the happy dance this time. This is the clean-up-your-own-mess dance. It leaves the trail. Waits. (Vrianth to Malsaeth)
Vrianth senses that Malsaeth stops as that larger spark finally notices the clean-up-your-own-mess dance. It seems to shake jitterly in surprise before zooming back the way he came, dutifully cleaning up after itself. The larger spark stops and turns to see his cleaning job and then turns back to the smaller spark as if to ask if it was happy now.
The littler spark bounces: not the delighted bounce of a new trick, but the more deliberate up and down of clapping. (Vrianth to Malsaeth)
"Secath's better at formations and stuff than I am, but really, she's the one who has to be," Persie admits. "Anyway, the traveling is fun. Have you ever been to the ice lake? It's nice. Especially in the summer. I guess it's not such a thing here, to have a cold lake, but it's pretty there." She turns her attention more fully to Leova. "So did we do alright? Teaching you? You feel like you can do it, right?"
Leova's hesitant, if only for the ice lake. "Been by a few? That were icy? Don't know which one." And she lifts her head off her arm, even, to look at Persie a little better. "Think so. We're getting there. Nobody's slacking, just a matter of fitting in. Who flies best where. Like that. It's good."
Vrianth senses that Malsaeth seems satisfied by the deliberate motion of the clapping. The larger spark twirls around a full 360 degrees and then goes up and down, as if it were thankful for the clapping motion of the littler spark.
The littler spark imitates that, twirl and up and down, only to add another twirl onto the end. And then it pauses, and might yawn if it could, but it's just a little spark, so it glows very brightly for an instant and then slowly begins to vanish. (Vrianth to Malsaeth)
Vrianth senses that Malsaeth watches as that littler spark glows brightly and begins to vanish from that space. The larger spark seems to do the same thing, glowing a brighter red like an ember before finally vanishing from view.
Persie seems awfully pleased to hear that, her smile picking up again, shy but proud. "I'm glad. I've never done it before. I've never trained weyrlings before. It was... good. Well, I liked it. Secath was a lot happier once you all started flying and going between and stuff."
"And things started smelling better," Leova says, the corners of her mouth tilting up that much more. "Can imagine. And look, everyone survived." So far! "We learned a lot. And Vrianth still calls her /my Secath/. Her, meaning Vrianth's Secath, not Leova's Secath, if you follow."
Persie grins even more brightly, a touch of something giddy. "She likes that. She certainly doesn't need any more encouragement in being the way she is, though." But it really does seem to please the skinny blonde. And on they chatter for a while, until dinner calls and its time to head off to eat it.
VR: Day 31, month 3, Turn 16, of the Interval. It is a spring late afternoon.
Leova visits Persie and admires her color choices. Secath confuses Vrianth so she plays with Malsaeth. The greenriders talk about moving, traders, curtains, and life after the barracks.
Persie's Prismatic Weyr
There's the ledge, broad and simple, and Secath's sheltered hollow, but these things are rather unassuming, particularly in comparison to the home Persie has made for herself. Her own space is overrun by mess and color. There are things everywhere: clothes, random items, dishes. A few large pieces of furniture define the separate spaces within the room. The bed is wide and low, its frame barely visible beneath the overstuffed mattress and the piles of brightly colored blankets and patterned pillows. There's a little table, two chairs and a large blue cabinet, all with their paint chipping off, and over by the hearth there is a brilliantly purple sofa and a llama skin rug dyed tangerine orange.
As the dragons land and the riders dismount, Persie leads Leova into the weyr, her smile already wide and sheepish. "It's sort of messy, just to warn you..." And Persie pauses at the threshold to look over her weyr with the eye of someone seeing the place for the first time. "This is it." Her bites her lips in, hiding them.
There's a slow blink from Leova as it registers. So much of it. And then she exclaims, "Pillows! Look at those pillows. And Shanlee, she would love that rug," what can be seen of it.
Persie starts to laugh, a giggle of sorts. "I... well, yeah. I have pillows. I don't know, I just... pick stuff up." But her smile will turn a bit proud for the praise of the rug. "It's really soft, too. It feel great barefoot. I think it sort of turned my feet orange, though. Maybe. I'm not sure." And with her wait on one leg, the foot of the other draws behind her to wobble her heel back and forth with her toe on the ground.
That draws Leova's eye, though of course she can't see orange soles with Persie's shoes on and all. "Mind if I take my boots off?" Out on the ledge, Vrianth settles into the evening, looking this way and that to see whether she can spot Secath's neighbors.
A spark flicks out of nowhere. No immediate source: just that tiny shock at the edge of consciousness. (Vrianth to Malsaeth)
<< There's a blue, >> Secath notes, tipping her head one way toward the neighboring ledge. << And a brown, but he has a mate. >> And for that he is totally written off. Inside the weyr, Persie springs to life. "Oh yeah. Sure! Go head. Here I'll get you a chair." Because, you see, to offer a chair, she first has to clear it off. The wad of discarded clothing gets lifted with both arms and deposited on top of the pile on the table and then she turns the chair around for the ease of Leova's boot removal.
Vrianth senses that Malsaeth puzzles over this spark, trying to see it from every angle before prodding it with his own thoughts, emphasized by thunder in the background.
Leova matter-of-factly puts that boot right on top of the chair's seat, the way she wouldn't have dared to do before the dragons were /betweening/, and starts unlacing. She makes a quick job of it, too, stuffing the sock down inside before working on the other. Meanwhile, "Thanks. Pretty something, isn't it, not living in a barracks any longer and having your stuff all how you like it." Vrianth meanwhile looks where her Secath directs, though there's puzzlement too. << They all have riders. >> Don't they?
The spark hovers there, beginning to fade until his attention fuels it to glow that much more brightly. A certain amount of prodding it accepts, just a little. When the young dragon pokes too much at it, though? It's gone. Vanished. Maybe it was fragile. Or maybe it just didn't like it. (Vrianth to Malsaeth)
Butt on the chair, boot on the chair, it's all the same to Persie. She shucks off her own boots simply by tugging them off and dropping them where she stands, apparely her laces are loose enough for that. Her socks stay on, though, a sort of charteause shade with white toes. "I like it. I mean, it's been a while since I lived in the barracks so... I had more stuff, I think, before I moved. I tried to get rid of some things." But she wrinkles one side of her nose as she scans her home. "I guess mostly I just left the furniture behind. It wasn't mine anyway. It was the Weyr's." And Secath just breathes out, sort of ho-hum. << Yes. He has a mate, though, too. >> The fool.
Vrianth senses that Malsaeth considers the spark as it hovers and soon vanishes. Amused, the young bronze decides to show his own spark. A flash of molten core cracked, his true being, not so confident, but not so weak either. Moments last while the crack seems to grow, and then... Gone. A flash of lightning from the clouds of his thoughts, using it to his advantage to light his way to find the other spark, perhaps in search of it now that it has vanished.
<< Too. >> Flickering static, but Vrianth doesn't immediately follow up: perhaps she thinks herself unlikely to get more, perhaps she's distracted. Her rider does have a lot to look at, after all. "At least you didn't have to move it." The boots get an easy overhand knot of their laces, not anything that will make it hard to undo, and Leova tosses them over by the entrance where she can be pretty sure of finding them again. Probably. "Hate moving furniture. Hate it, hate it."
No motion when he reveals that core self, nor does the lightning illuminate anything of use. A dusting of ash, perhaps, at the most. But when the lightning's gone, there's another spark formed seemingly from it, only unlike the first one, this darts around. Not too quickly. Just fits and starts. Up, down, jinking sideways. (Vrianth to Malsaeth)
Vrianth senses that Malsaeth watches this new spark from aways. No use in prodding if it's just going to go away. Though he keeps his distance, his attention is still centred upon that sideways jinking spark. Large clouds gather and rain falls, providing the perfect cover, perhaps even the perfect place to nurture this newly formed spark.
"Well, I had to move a good bit up here. The bed was here. And the cabinet isn't so bad when it's emptied and stuff." But Persie's eyes drift to the purple couch which does looks like it would be rather heavy and cumbersome. "Milani found it for me, the couch. It lucky I ran into her when I did. I'm sure someone else would have taken it." There -is- plenty to look at. Beyond the assortment of clothes, there are things everywhere. A pair of pink shoes on the mantle and two little wooden birds. More birds hanging on strings by the bed like some sparsely birded curtain. A mobile of shells. A pink basin full of balled up socks. The list goes on and on.
"Taken it in an instant," Leova agrees with every indication of sincerity. "Can get pretty gray out here, good to have color. And something comfortable." She picks her way towards the hearth and its rug. And the couch. Birds. She looks at the birds. The ones on the mantel, the curtain of birds. Nodding to that last, "Lujayn's got this thing sort of like that only it has beads on. She said Tavrie had it there before her. Catches the light real nice." And then, last of all, she carefully steps onto the rug. Barefoot.
Things were going just fine until the rain started falling. One drop makes it fizz. Other drops miss it, but the next drop makes it fizzle. And the last one that hits dead center makes it go away entirely. Better luck next time? (Vrianth to Malsaeth)
Vrianth senses that Malsaeth's disappointment at the spark soon fizzling away is limned with another lightning strike, stirred by the disappearance. Or perhaps his own rainy thoughts as the cause of said fizzling. The young bronze provides a spark of his own, using the last bit of electricity from his lightning to form his own, a small orb of bright staticity.
And he's lucky this time, because a third spark that isn't his is there when the lighting recedes. As long as the water doesn't keep falling, or at least doesn't land on it. It darts close to his own, larger spark and then keeps on going, circling around at the last. (Vrianth to Malsaeth)
"I like color," Persie says simply and understatedly, her attention more on following Leova's perusal of her myriad belonging and decorations. "I want to make one of those sometime, those beaded curtains. Oh, I wonder if the traders have beads. They tend to have those sorts of things, don't they? I had that pouch of them that we used to make dragon eyes, but I don't think there's really enough left for a curtain." And then the rug. "It's nice, isn't it?" Her voice lighting up as she trots over to plop herself on the couch with a leg tossed over the arm. "When it's really cold and the fire is going, it's good for a nap, too. A little hard underneath though," admitted with a giggle.
"They might! Don't know." When Leova's bare feet don't land on anything poky or crunchy or gooey, she winds up just lowering herself the rest of the way down onto the rug and leaning against the side of the couch, though not so close to Persie's end that she's likely to get whapped if the other greenrider's feet start going astray. So far, "Comfortable enough for me, anyway. The traders, though? Niena was saying she heard some things were going missing with them around. Don't know that it's true. But maybe we should be careful anyway."
Vrianth senses that Malsaeth knows better now, perhaps, as there's no rain. No breeze. It's almost like the calm before a storm in its preternatural majesty. Chaos may be on the outs, but this centre, where he makes that larger spark glow, is as quiet as it can be. The younger bronze makes the spherical spark spin on its axis as that smaller spark orbits around his own.
To the extent it's an orbit, it's an eccentric one. The smaller spark does seem tugged towards his as though with some gravitational force, but that also slingshots it out and away again, back and away, at least until it hovers at a distance: perhaps the larger spark might try dancing like this, too. (Vrianth to Malsaeth)
"What kinds of things?" Persie wonders, brows drawn together as she picks up a piece of her hair to fiddle with. "Like... people's things? So, like, if they had beads, they'd be stolen beads?" Her nose wrinkles again.
"Beads maybe, or jewelry, I don't know." Leova sighs, picking at her fingernails. "Glittery things. Don't remember exactly. Was sort of out of it."
Vrianth senses that Malsaeth sends his larger spark out to chase the smaller one in much the same eccentric slingshotting pattern, rising to the challenge of this particular electric dance. While the larger spark is slower than perhaps the quicker, smaller spark, it endures no matter what.
Conveniently for the larger spark, the smaller one isn't trying to outdo it particularly: though its turns are unpredictable, its speed considerable, it's just enough to push the larger one without getting too far away. It's also turning from white to a brighter blue-green. (Vrianth to Malsaeth)
"Like a bird? I hear they pick up shiny things sometimes... Well, probably not quite so innocent as all that, huh." Persie starts brushing the ends of that blonde bit of hair against her chin, thoughtful-like. "Have you talked to many of them? The traders?" Just in case Leova might think Persie is refering to shiny-stealing birds.
"If it's true," Leova agrees. "Don't want to be spreading rumors if it's not. Just, careful." She draws her knees up, slightly spread, and sticks her elbows on them. "Not really talked, for long anyway. Hello in the lunch line. That sort of thing. There was one that walked into the baths, wasn't so long after they arrived."
Vrianth senses that Malsaeth seems to like convenience, taking what he can get. As the white spark that it follows turns to a brighter blue-green shade, the larger spark seems to compliment it by making itself a searing ruddy red. The change is more subtle than the smaller spark's change, as if it almost revels in the change from white hot to bright crimson, all the while following that same pattern as the smaller spark takes in the mind space.
As his spark turns to that searing, perhaps angry-seeming red, the blue-green spark starts keeping a greater distance. And it begins to pale again. Getting closer to white, now. (Vrianth to Malsaeth)
Vrianth senses that Malsaeth is all the more happy to play this game, changing from ruddy red to white as well, in keeping with the other smaller spark it follows. While the color changes to the white, its movement speeds up, but only so that the distance between it and the smaller spark is less of an issue; it's almost as if that bigger spark is only trying to keep up.
"Right. Yeah. I haven't really met any of them. There was that guy who walked by at the lake. He seemed nice enough, I guess. Or not... un-nice." Persie purses her lips, and then lets all this troubling stealing talk drift away. "Right. No rumors." However, the lightened mood only lasts a moment. "Where were they before here? Like, what hold did they visit last? Does anyone know?"
"Right, him. Half-forgot," Leova admits. "Forgot why I ran off, too, probably Vrianth, but did much happen after I went?" Her toes wiggle through the llama fleece rug. Poor llama. Happy toes, though. "No idea which hold. One said something about just this general area. 'Reaches. Nabol maybe."
Once it's white again, the distance narrows, the smaller spark regains some color. Just a little, tentatively perhaps, as though to see whether the larger will return to red. Or just pink. (Vrianth to Malsaeth)
"Not really. He didn't seem to want to talk much. He just walked by, really." Persie only gives a shrug, dropping her hair and flipping it over her shoulder again. "I bet, if they were stealers," she means theives, "that they'd know about it at the last place they were at. Maybe." Her gaze wanders the room. "Do you like those beaded things? The curtain things?"
Leova's nod recognizes the walking by. "Good idea, last place and all." She turns partway, elbow lifting to rest on the couch and be a pillow for her head, making it easier to see Persie sometimes. "Wonder if it's really them, or someone saying it might be them, or people just forgetting where they put things and wanting to blame it on someone," only by then she's just trailing off, focus failing. Beads. Curtains. Them. "Sure were pretty. Caught the light sort of. And they weren't so big I'd forget and knock my head on them when I went by, you know?"
Vrianth senses that Malsaeth blends in rather well, or perhaps it is the simple thrill of the electric dance. If the smaller spark regains some of its colour, so does he. Though, rather than turn a light pink or even bright crimson, the larger spark turns a variation of something in the middle: a soft copper hue.
The copper hue gets the littler spark even brighter than it had been, pausing in place to bounce up and down in a minute dance. And then it waits: your turn. Go ahead. (Vrianth to Malsaeth)
"It's probably just a confusion. Where did Niena hear it anyway?" Persie just makes a face, ready once again to brush the whole thing off. She tips her head against the back of the couch. "How's your wing? I miss seeing you all the time. All of you guys."
Leova shrugs some, and whether it's because she can read at least that much body language or she's feeling the same way, "Maybe I'll ask Shanlee sometime." Wing talk gets the corners of her mouth turning up. "Good. Miss you too. Nice to have the four of us. B'yan's being pretty patient, and K'del's all right, neither of them letting us slack. How's the cleaning?"
Vrianth senses that Malsaeth seems to be greatly amused by the up and down motion of this little spark. As the little spark waits for the rusty hued larger spark, it dances in its own way. Rather than simply duplicate the smaller spark's dance (after all, where's the fun in that!?), the coppery spark moves side to side, as if being juggled by invisible hands. After a minute, the larger spark stops.
The littler spark doesn't mind duplicating. Except, well. After a few side to sides, it becomes more of an arc, springing higher in the middle. (Vrianth to Malsaeth)
Vrianth senses that Malsaeth watches as that little spark duplicates his own little dancing move. As the smaller spark springs higher in the middle, the bigger spark decides to do a different movement. Rather than look like its being juggled, the larger rust colored spark seems to zig-zag a distance and come back to where it started, leaving contrails of static as it goes. And then, after a moment, it waits, a challenge for the smaller spark now.
But the smaller spark's already in motion, moving to override and erase the bits of static along the larger's path. Bad, untidy, wasteful static. (Vrianth to Malsaeth)
"It's quiet. I still... I don't know if I did the right thing. Secath is bored." Persie is rather sunken against the back of the couch now, her eyes down but for a few flicks up at Leova. "We've been traveling around, mostly. It gives her a chance to stretch her wings." Breath. Smile. "Are you keeping up alright? With the wing?"
If Leova can't blame Secath, she doesn't say so. "Traveling sounds like fun, for both of you really. Anywhere you want. Go visit family, at all?" After that she lifts a shoulder, lets it fall. "Think we are. Hardest for W'jar, maybe. But you know Niena. And Rhadruth really tries... Talk to Fraya if you see her, though? She's been real quiet."
Vrianth senses that Malsaeth watches the smaller spark clean up after his trail, like a magnetic vacuum. Rather than zig-zag, he tests just how fast she can erase said static as he jets forward speedily, leaving one very long trail of it behind.
The blue-green spark starts on that trail, but then it becomes white again and bounces up and down. Not the happy dance this time. This is the clean-up-your-own-mess dance. It leaves the trail. Waits. (Vrianth to Malsaeth)
Vrianth senses that Malsaeth stops as that larger spark finally notices the clean-up-your-own-mess dance. It seems to shake jitterly in surprise before zooming back the way he came, dutifully cleaning up after itself. The larger spark stops and turns to see his cleaning job and then turns back to the smaller spark as if to ask if it was happy now.
The littler spark bounces: not the delighted bounce of a new trick, but the more deliberate up and down of clapping. (Vrianth to Malsaeth)
"Secath's better at formations and stuff than I am, but really, she's the one who has to be," Persie admits. "Anyway, the traveling is fun. Have you ever been to the ice lake? It's nice. Especially in the summer. I guess it's not such a thing here, to have a cold lake, but it's pretty there." She turns her attention more fully to Leova. "So did we do alright? Teaching you? You feel like you can do it, right?"
Leova's hesitant, if only for the ice lake. "Been by a few? That were icy? Don't know which one." And she lifts her head off her arm, even, to look at Persie a little better. "Think so. We're getting there. Nobody's slacking, just a matter of fitting in. Who flies best where. Like that. It's good."
Vrianth senses that Malsaeth seems satisfied by the deliberate motion of the clapping. The larger spark twirls around a full 360 degrees and then goes up and down, as if it were thankful for the clapping motion of the littler spark.
The littler spark imitates that, twirl and up and down, only to add another twirl onto the end. And then it pauses, and might yawn if it could, but it's just a little spark, so it glows very brightly for an instant and then slowly begins to vanish. (Vrianth to Malsaeth)
Vrianth senses that Malsaeth watches as that littler spark glows brightly and begins to vanish from that space. The larger spark seems to do the same thing, glowing a brighter red like an ember before finally vanishing from view.
Persie seems awfully pleased to hear that, her smile picking up again, shy but proud. "I'm glad. I've never done it before. I've never trained weyrlings before. It was... good. Well, I liked it. Secath was a lot happier once you all started flying and going between and stuff."
"And things started smelling better," Leova says, the corners of her mouth tilting up that much more. "Can imagine. And look, everyone survived." So far! "We learned a lot. And Vrianth still calls her /my Secath/. Her, meaning Vrianth's Secath, not Leova's Secath, if you follow."
Persie grins even more brightly, a touch of something giddy. "She likes that. She certainly doesn't need any more encouragement in being the way she is, though." But it really does seem to please the skinny blonde. And on they chatter for a while, until dinner calls and its time to head off to eat it.