Azhdarchid
Jr. Weyrwoman 
azhct[M:-1490]
Totes.
Posts: 1,627
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Post by Azhdarchid on Jan 17, 2013 13:55:22 GMT -5
Hmmmuhhh? Halventh's tail coiled into a stiff C behind him, and he pulled his paws in under his body, simultaneously elevating his weight onto just his toes. His smooth, slanting head cocked to one side. An enormous blue eye had fixed on the slate posted outside the Weyrling Barracks for the reference of his hatchlings and their retainers. Called the Stormsingers for some reason he could not recall, they had moved on to their own little caves in the Bowl, and did not have to crawl around inside the tiny Barracks anymore. His wings flicked along his sides like he was clearing his ribcage of dust, and he tilted his facets at the board again.
Well? grunted the rider at his back, who kept one gloved hand around the neckridge ahead of him as the blue twitched and swiveled. Who is it?
The little Ambrith.
Use his name.
Why do I not get to name him, like you named your brat?
Because you don't come up with things better than "little Ambrith" or "Lexy."
That hurts my feelings.
Look sharp now. Here they come. L'xon lifted his goggles off and balanced them on his forehead for the time being, twisting in his seat to get a look at the descending Weyrlings. Vespasiath already outsized his sire, and Halventh was not a small blue.
I am going to cry, Halventh resolved, turning around via the sudden upward propulsion of his torso, then tipping around on his bunched hind legs before falling back to all-fours. L'xon moved his hand from the neckridge to the band of wherhide just beside it, and the blue kicked off the Bowl floor to meet his offspring in the air.
Tunnelsnakes cannot cry, L'xon teased, though Halventh's head dipped a little at the choice of words, and behind the cloth of his scarf the rider's cheeks colored.
Greetings Stormsinger, Wingsecond of Starlight! Halventh crooned, proceeding through the more official greeting L'xon had made him practice. Today we are Betweening to the Western Ring Islands and several fishing cots that have been established there! Our instructions are to establish the recovery rates of these holds and their produce so that the proper tithe can be ascertained! We will also be Searching! He clattered his long jaws together and spoke more softly, so the riders would not necessarily pick up on it: We will eat their strange fish and taste the island-raised ovines.
He twisted to one side, the edge of his wing just a flash off Vespasiath's, so that the riders could commune if they wished. In the meantime Halventh passed in a very clear image of a grassy isle. The crops were blue, green and gold, and glowholders dotted the entrance to a cave hold down by the water, and another on a rocky formation at the top. In this case, one set of holders oversaw the fisheries and trade, while another grazed sheep on the island's colorful grass. The sun had been delicately positioned pink in the east, the same as it was at Dalibor, but its light fell fully on the naked island, while the Weyr's walls cut it out in their present position. A modest pair of fishing trawlers were moored a ways out from the seaside hold. Other islands, with different faces, shadowed the horizon to the north and south.
"V'yeri!" L'xon called, pulling down his scarf to betray a smile. Then he tugged his goggles down over his eyes and smoothed the leather band over his ears. "It will be good to finally work with you." L'xon had been too ill to take on any Weyrling shadows for a time, and since then the viridianrider's name had simply never been drawn. "Any questions?"
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Kestrel
Wingrider 
kestct[M:821]
Posts: 374
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Post by Kestrel on Jan 23, 2013 2:11:32 GMT -5
I hope you’re ready now, V’yeri. Don’t think I won’t leave without you—I will not tarnish my reputation by being late on account of your poor time-management skills.[/color] V’yeri just smiled at the viridian indignantly shifting his weight and ruffling his wings. “And what would you do once you got there? Would you do the whole chore yourself, too?” Vespasiath stood up taller, leaning over the weyrledge to watch the familiar blue form land in front of the weyrling barracks. Certainly not. Getting the work done is your job—my task is to provide transport from here to there, and this transport leaves on time! If you are not ready, you will simply have to find another way of getting there.[/color]
“That might be difficult, seeing as I’m not even sure where we’re going today,” V’yeri mused, gliding a hand over Vespasiath’s flight straps. He wasn’t afraid of heights, per se, but he was certainly afraid of falling from the sort of heights dragons tended to fly at. Since he wasn’t exactly the best leatherworker Pern had ever seen, he tended to be a bit neurotic about checking the straps before any sort of flight. But that, he thought, was a healthy enough neurosis as they went—dragonriders were encouraged to be careful with their riding straps after all. If he was just a bit excessive…well, contrary to what Vespasiath liked to think, waiting wouldn’t kill him.
How many times have you looked them over by now? As if I would ever let you fall to begin with. And look—that’s Halventh and, oh…that friend of yours. You two are friends, aren’t you? For shame, making him wait. And the sire of my own clutch as well! You are going to ruin us.[/color] V’yeri brightened at this news, tearing his attention from the riding straps long enough to glance down and pick out Halventh in the weyrbowl. “Are they really?” he said, even though he had mostly confirmed it already. V’yeri gave his disgruntled dragon a pat on the shoulder before climbing up at last, pulling the flight goggles down over his eyes as he got situated. Vespasiath stepped out onto his weyrledge, spreading his wings to enjoy just one short moment of posturing before pushing off, elegantly swooping down toward the bluerider pair. He pulled out of the curve, letting wind and momentum lift them back up again, as Halventh rose to meet them in the air, and Vespasiath flew proudly beside his clutchfather as he basked in the formal greeting.
Greetings to you and yours as well, Halventh! It will be an honor to accompany you and fulfill our obligations to our weyr! And…[/color] After a moment of uncertainty, he mimicked the blue and continued more quietly, though he wasn’t sure why they were doing it. And that sounds very enjoyable as well![/color] V’yeri lifted a hand from the neckridge in front of him to wave enthusiastically at L’xon before shifting his attention back to his dragon. I can’t believe you talk like that completely unironically. Vespasiath could tell he was supposed to be offended, but V’yeri got some satisfaction as the viridian began picking through his brain to find out what ‘ironic’ meant.
When the image came through, however, V’yeri dropped the teasing to focus on it very carefully before attempting to jump between, as perhaps the only thing worse than falling to his death would be getting stuck forever in that awful blackness. There was no shortage of ways to die as a dragonrider, he was finding out. But fortunately the jump went off without a hitch, and in moments Vespasiath’s green wings were bathed in thick, soupy gold sunlight. V’yeri turned to the bluerider when he heard his name called. “It figures the only time I get to see you is for work, these days!” he said. Of course, the plague had kept him isolated from all riders who weren’t specifically in quarantine with him, but that darkness had passed, and making light of things was his way. “Last time we had a task to do together you were the weyrling, if I recall. How long that’s been.” He thought for a moment about if there was anything he didn’t understand, but from Halventh’s speech it had sounded fairly simple. Plus, he would mostly be watching L’xon do all the work anyway, he assumed. He was, after all, just there to be a shadow. “No, I think I’ve got it for the most part. We don’t have to haul around anything heavy this time, do we?”
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Azhdarchid
Jr. Weyrwoman
azhct[M:-1490]
Totes.
Posts: 1,627
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Post by Azhdarchid on Jan 25, 2013 14:17:01 GMT -5
"Nothing heavy, nor burning," L'xon answered, turning his right hand up and rubbing his leatherclad fingertips together. He ducked his head for a moment. "I did mean to visit you over the winter to race the boards." Marshaling Halventh into a hover so he could get a better look at the island below, he continued, "But there are always more winters."
No matter how clarified the image, there were always some small discrepencies in the place the dragons arrived compared to what was pictured. The ovine flock was moving in a cotton typhoon along the left flank of the island's upper terrace. A few short, fuzzy red runners jogged among the even stumpier herd, mostly concerned with keeping their charges from clomping too close to the cliff. The sheep had already noticed the shadows of dragons, and unlike the ones at Crescent, they panicked at the new arrivals. L'xon detected the echoes of their wailing baas from Halventh's ears.
The two larger fishing boats were surrounded by a few miniature woody retainers with no sails. It would be a good day to get an account of all the holdings, as the fisherfolk would not be out at sea and accountable only by the word of their families. The catch could be examined too. He expected it had only come in yesterday or today. "Make sure to tell me if you notice anything unusual," he advised his Weyrling shadow, voice clipped to absentminded professional politeness. He looked between the two cots, then motionlessly urged Halventh into a descent. "We'll start with the fishers. They're apt to have been harder hit by the plague."
The island did have drum-and-fireheights, but they belonged to the herders and though Halventh had picked out the firestone stockpiles, there was no dragon stationed here in the Pass. For a lack of better sites, L'xon landed his blue on a stretch of white beach divided off the main hold by a peninsula of obsidian stone. A few storky trees with blossoming blue fronds oversaw the landing from further inshore, and streams of wild firelizards flicked out of the nearby caves and off their scavenging posts at the tideline. Other than them, and the usual muck of life clinging to the shoreline, the beach looked empty. L'xon dismounted, and blinked as his heavy boots sank into the reflective sand.
He pulled off his goggles and his jacket, using a piece of waxed silver pulled from Halventh's saddlebags as a guide while he pushed his hair back into a more presentable mess. He removed his jacket, preferring the short-sleeved work tunic beneath in this season- like all his things since that mysterious winter a few Turns past, the tunic was a quality work, with extra-serpentine blue dragons embroidered at the wrists and on the back. He adjusted his rank knot, then waved dismissively at the black finger of rock between them and the hold. "A little walk will not challenge us." Halventh caught a firelizard coming in for a landing on his nose, and puffed out his breath so that it caught the little bronze's wings and blew him away.
This is a tidepool, he said, ambling over to a still circle of water once L'xon had no more need of him. Do you know what a tidepool is? he asked Vespasiath. Halventh stuck his snout into the depression, snuffled around the edges, then inhaled deeply. He pulled his head up, cheeks packed with water and seafood debris, which he chewed on with little spouts of leftovers gushing between his lips. The pool he left behind was now a collapsed pit of mud with a sheen of saltwater slicked over it, a bruise on the beach.
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Kestrel
Wingrider
kestct[M:821]
Posts: 374
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Post by Kestrel on Jan 28, 2013 1:39:15 GMT -5
“Thank Faranth for that,” V’yeri said, grinning, though the memory of L’xon reaching into the fire to tug on heated chains, even if only for a moment, still made him cringe inside. At least he didn’t have to worry about a repeat of that with their nice little island trip. “Well, that’s one of the perks of being a dragonrider, isn’t it? It’s probably winter somewhere,” he said, waving a hand. “Don’t worry, I’m not letting Lexy get out of that rematch.”
Vespasiath eyed the swarming ovines with interest, and V’yeri followed his dragon’s attention down to the island—though he was more interested in scoping out the homes of the island’s less edible inhabitants. It seemed like an idyllic enough little place from the air—though he knew very little about what it would actually be like to live in such a place. Just that it was certainly a far cry from Bitra. “All right, I’ll keep an eye out. Let you know if I spot anyone trying to hide a few extra ovines under their coats.” He couldn’t say he was greatly looking forward to their work—holders were always happy to see dragons in their air during threadfall, but much less so when their protectors came around to work out the tithe. But compared to the chores he’d done as a candidate, it was really the kind of work he was much better at—even if today he was mostly just there to observe.
Vespasiath was only too happy to grandly swoop down toward the beach, blue-green wings flaring out to catch him in a neat landing. He held his head aloft with regal pride, gazing about at the island like noble adventurer surveying a new land—but now and then his facets snuck toward Halventh, trying in vain to ascertain whether or not the blue was impressed. The viridian’s rider hopped down with much less fanfare, attending quickly to his hair. The longer style he preferred to keep was much more of a nuisance as a rider than it had been as a candidate, but V’yeri had never really minded putting time into his appearance, and was in no hurry to cut off his short ponytail any time soon.
He left his own jacket behind as well—being a creature of cold, and in no way eager to make the warm weather any warmer—and though his clothes were well-made and nicely-tailored, they were very plain next to the fine embroidery L’xon was wearing. V’yeri crossed the sand to the bluerider, not at all enjoying the way his boots sank a bit with every step. Oddly, he didn’t mind so much the impediment that snow could make to walking, even though that often presented more difficulty than sand did—he had just never liked sand, and its tendency to creep into his boots no matter how well-stitched they might be.
A long walk on sand, however, might have been preferable to having to clamber over that rocky outcrop looming ahead of them. He gazed at it for a moment in dismay, as if maybe it would go away if he just looked sad enough that it was there, but of course it didn’t budge. Rocks were rude like that. “Are you sure? That’s an awfully nice tunic to go trekking around in,” he said, smiling. “Might take the wind out of our arrival, showing up on foot without our dragons looming over everyone’s heads.”
Vespasiath’s posturing was interrupted by Halventh’s declaration, and his head swiveled first, body soon following to stride over to the little pit in the rock. His facets whirled as he peered down at the water, and the very tiny things living in it. He had not, in fact, heard about these ‘tidepool’ things before, but that was certainly not what he was going to tell Halventh. Oh yes, I have seen a great many of them. This is a particularly nice one here, don’t you think?[/color] He watched with mounting confusion as Halventh stuck his face into his ‘particularly nice’ tidepool, and proceeded to slurp the whole thing up. Oh,[/color] was all he could think to say for a moment. How is it?[/color]
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Azhdarchid
Jr. Weyrwoman
azhct[M:-1490]
Totes.
Posts: 1,627
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Post by Azhdarchid on Jan 28, 2013 14:54:57 GMT -5
L'xon offered a silent smile at the notion of escaping time and season alike on the back of a dragon. Such deviance did not appeal to him. But, as he turned toward the outcrop, it did occur to him that V'yeri was only being humorous.
"Actually the first thing I noticed is that they have at least forty dockworkers and sailers," he said as he hauled himself a few steps up the moist obsidian without using his hands. He stopped with one leg up on the next stone, the ocean wind soothing the heat out of his hair and off his face. Turning a little at the waist to glance at his shadow, he said, "Maybe I should trade some of these for simpler garb, if it's distracting this way." He tilted his yellow head. "You do have a point. Halventh."
The blue, who had not been too interested in Vespasiath's landing because it would require taking focus off himself, swung his head up toward his rider with his cheeks packed by the tidepool's remnants. Mushing his lips together, he pushed the rest of the seawater out between them, like a living fountain. Then he snapped his jaws a few times and swallowed the filtrate.
Crunchy, he reported quickly to Vespasiath, before shuffling a step toward L'xon. Yes?
"I think I said we would be Searching here." The dragon fluttered his wings.
But...you told me to land over here, he said, eyes twinkling a little yellow.
Yes, but you do not have to stay here, L'xon replied, mental voice firming against the hint of opposition. He extended his arm and pointed over the outcrop.
Ohh-hh...alright. Halventh approached the barrier, tiptoeing a little as he went around V'yeri to reach it, and then he put his claws up on the rocks. L'xon waited while his blue navigated to the top, then hopped off onto the more populous shore. A few shocked cries radiated up from the other side of the outcrop. L'xon resumed climbing.
"Both of these holds are currently classified as cots in our Records," he said, not even skipping a beat in respect for the noises of surprise on the other side. "But forty workers, and more inside to feed and maintain them. And we did get reports of plague from this island. Hm." He shrugged at V'yeri from the black peak. On the other side, Halventh was standing on a narrow crescent of sand with a scattering of stalls just ahead of him. A small crowd was assembling to look, and once he got over the surprise he had instilled in the populace, the blue began arching his neck and puffing out his wings. He couldn't advance any further into the holding though.
L'xon dropped down the other side without incident, and to Halventh's dismay the crowd began to dissipate as his rider joined him, a hand resting against his towering arm. L'xon waited there for V'yeri, but his eyes were on the hold, not the Weyrling. He was standing at his full height, rather than with the slight slouch he sometimes carried in his shoulders. He was not a tall man, but authority was his uncharacteristic theme for this visit.
I do not feel anything, Halventh shared with both L'xon and Vespasiath, practically grunting his verdict. What kind of fish are in that basket? Can I eat them?
Focus, L'xon said. His command was almost strong enough for Halventh to babble it on to Vespasiath, but the blue regained control just before he bubbled over.
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Kestrel
Wingrider
kestct[M:821]
Posts: 374
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Post by Kestrel on Feb 6, 2013 5:33:41 GMT -5
“Ah. That’s astute,” he said, thinking back to the various ships and dwelling places he’d seen in the initial flyover. His knowledge on smaller holds and their logistics was somewhat sparser than what he knew about larger holds, but from what he remembered, L’xon’s estimates seemed sound. He started up the rock face after the bluerider, trailing along after him where it was easy to pay attention to how L’xon was making his way up, and trace his steps. He was not terribly eager to slip, and if there was a particularly treacherous spot, that way L’xon would find it first.
“Oh no,” he said, glancing again at the embroidery on L’xon’s tunic. “I think it’s good to be well-dressed for these sorts of meetings. Well, not enough to overdo it and look like you don’t need their tithe, but nice clothes help make a good impression. Authoritative.”
Vespasiath took just the tiniest step back as Halventh began squirting water out of his mouth, facets whirling slowly into a more yellow-tinged green. He waited until it seemed the blue was done before surreptitiously drawing the finger joint of one sea green wing down over his chest, flicking off an errant blob of sludgy water. He was fortuitously spared the trial of coming up with a reply as they both turned to watch the humans clambering up the rocks. V’yeri looked back at the viridian, nodding, but he needn’t have bothered—Vespasiath was striding toward the obsidian just as soon as Halventh did, walking about as quickly as a dragon could without just looking silly. Unlike V’yeri, he had no interest in following—he had glory to bask in, and he wasn’t keen on the idea of Halventh stealing his thunder by getting there first. Of course, that proved more difficult in practice than in theory, as there was only so much cliff space for two very large dragons, so he ended up behind Halventh anyway.
V’yeri listened to L’xon’s briefing as he made his way up, frowning thoughtfully as his hand sought out another hold in the obsidian. “Upwards of forty in a cothold? Well that’s stretching it a bit, isn’t it?” He sighed. “Well, I won’t expect too warm a welcome, then.” As if he had thought dragonriders showing up on tithe business would ever receive such a reception—he’d been a holder himself far too long for that. But that’s what made it a joke. He raised his boot to set it down in what seemed like the place that L’xon had left it, but either his aim was off, or the stone was fickle—his boot slipped, and his arms wobbled ineffectually in the air for a moment, struggling to counter the hideous lurch of gravity, before he switched tactics, seeking out handholds that didn’t present themselves quite fast enough.
Fortunately, the result was somewhat anticlimactic—he only slid down a few feet to the next stable spot while remaining relatively upright, though he grabbed at the rock in front of him and leaned close to the steep incline all the same. He glanced over at Vespasiath, whose green head had appeared over the ridge with whirling yellow eyes, though he reluctantly retreated to examine the holdfolk again once content nothing was greatly amiss. V’yeri merely let out a nervous chuckle before more carefully making his way back up, reaching the other side without further issues.
V’yeri followed L’xon’s example of moving to his dragon’s side, giving the viridian a mental nudge to move in a bit close to Halventh so the two riders could still stand near each other. If he was still shaken up by his misstep at all, V’yeri didn’t show it—he had never really stopped carrying himself like one accustomed to a certain status, despite turns of not having it, and his expression was free of readable emotion, but alert and aware. The viridian beside him tilted his head slightly at Halventh’s pronouncement, turning an eye over the people before them, but offered no contention—he had not the slightest idea what he was to be looking for, and now seemed like a bad time to ask.
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Azhdarchid
Jr. Weyrwoman
azhct[M:-1490]
Totes.
Posts: 1,627
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Post by Azhdarchid on Feb 10, 2013 23:15:00 GMT -5
L'xon did not answer V'yeri's valid echo of concern as they assembled together in front of the holdfolk. He stood straight against the sea wind, and when an older man with one grown son flanking approached, he did not bow. The man bowed to him.
"Dragonrider," he said, holding out his empty palm in acknowledgment before folding it behind his back. His green eyes touched on V'yeri a moment before locking back with L'xon's. "Fair winds to you and yours. I trust our ocean summer is treating you well. We have been expecting a representative for some time..." The corner of his lip worked on its own at some other speech, but the old man never gave it voice. "I am Wityvir, founder of this cothold."
"Oh?" L'xon murmured, his voice so oft playing friendly that this musing sounded no less genuine than any of the words he had put to V'yeri in less official circumstances. "Your clan does not have their own name for it? Just 'cothold?'"
"Ah...oh...well, the fisherman always come home to 'Woolshead.'" Wityvir glanced over his shoulder at his son, who was frowning, but relaxed still. The old man smiled back at L'xon.
"Woolshead Hold. Alright. I will be sure to update Dalibor's account." At this sudden closing of the hold's classification- for cotholds did not have titles -Wityvir grew a very similar frown to his son. L'xon's face, by contrast, grew serene, and his next grin at them was dazzling. He included father and son both in his gaze and his expression, and the son in particular lost a shade of malignance in favor of surprise. "I would like to let you go about your business and just look around on my own for a while. I think after I am done with Woolshead and-" He pointed up suggestively, indicating the sheepherders' hold proper.
"Cottontop," Wityvir's son answered, red-cheeked.
"-Cottontop, I would have dinner with you." L'xon's grin thinned back to a smile, the dark centers of his brown eyes constricting as he watched Wityvir alone. Halventh chose that moment to grumble somewhere down in his gut.
"Yes of course," Wityvir replied quickly. "Yes, let's leave him be, Tyvi," he continued, and turned his back to the dragonrider before his son could protest. Tyvi could not very well speak in his father's name, and with a hand on the old man's shoulder left the rider to his work.
After watching them go, the first thing the blond did was turn back to V'yeri.
"A bit. I try to think of a cot as no more than four or five brothers and their families. Give them two to three children each, but at the point those children come of age they will be moving and claiming holds of their own, or joining halls. So they don't really count as workers. Of course there are always a few that linger. So a cot would be maybe...ten or fifteen adults, and all the children between them." He trembled, and touched his hand to his upper arm, finally relenting to his own pinkening cheeks. "I am not very good at this," he insisted. "But you see how I already got the minor status agreed upon. No arguments at all, which is what I prefer. I would be even worse at that."
His eyes fell to V'yeri's boots. It was shameful after all, to be frightened of nothing more than an old man. Who would ever know this bluerider had once been in the profession of confronting wrongdoers? Of course people hid their inner notes carefully. For example, L'xon had no idea he was explaining the technical classification of a cothold to a Lord Holder's son. "So now all we have to do is make careful observations. Do you have a slate? You can write it down. I usually ask Halventh to remember for me. He's oddly good at it for a dragon." The blue tossed his head with a little hoot, depressing the onlooking crowd even further back to their duties. "You have not Felt anything yet?" L'xon asked him pointedly.
No.
"You're sure?"
Yessssssssssssssss. Halventh lashed his forked tongue out.
"Well." L'xon's shoulders drooped. "I guess you can do what you want then. Don't cause trouble."
Seeing as how you have stuck me here, that does not seem likely. It's sticky, L'xon. Halventh demonstrated by wriggling back and forth in place. He could not lean too far in any direction, not without bumping into the rocks behind him, Vespasiath at one side, or the carts and shipping matter at the others. L'xon smirked a little, then waved V'yeri after him.
The market path trundled along the cliffside, first presenting a dock of shirtless fishermen on the left, chucking fins and fish and other sea life into sorting baskets, and a tunnel to the underground storage that smelled of only of seawater and salt. L'xon looked down the dock, for more than a few seconds, then pivoted sharply towards the tunnel. "Let's see what they already have first."
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