Azhdarchid
Jr. Weyrwoman 
azhct[M:-1490]
Totes.
Posts: 1,627
|
Post by Azhdarchid on Mar 1, 2012 11:46:02 GMT -5
As Unath's head plowed into the lake, trails of white paint swirled off her skin, disassembling into transient whorls in the water. Q'sis looked down the small river that passed out of the Weyr to the south, a stream in which the paint had already dissolved but that he still felt was polluted by it. After the Fall, both washing and drinking were required, and the easy solution was to perform the former as far south from the latter as possible. His hand trailed along Unath's tail as her forty-foot length continued to plod past him, the sulfurous tinge to the air around her still stinging his eyes after many months' exposure.
Unath rolled from one side to another to fully eradicate the thick white bands marking her as a firestone courier. Her wings fluttered open after she received silent approval from Q'sis, and beat rapidly against the surface to furl the water against her chest and belly. This was a wherry-like activity her rider wisely stood well clear of. Q'sis thought the dragon could stand to be wider around her wetted barrel, though he probably compared her too often to Naireth, who for all her eloquent contour was the larger tan. Or maybe he simply compared Unath to himself, so long a muscular abnormality among men.
He could sense the tension trembling down her wings as she tucked them to her back, but it was fatigue rather than injury. Unath went from a seat in the shallows to slumping forward on her keel, folding her forearms almost completely under her chest. Her neck remained upright aside from a pass at the water to drink, which Q'sis averted wordlessly. Her tail looped and twined away from the water like a beast of its own, and her eyes hosted their typical bright green. There was little sign that this posturing would precede an attempt to take a nap in the middle of the lake. But Unath's man was not so easily taken in.
"Nuh-uh," he said, waving her in to shore. "Dunk your head again and come out." Unath did not protest, nor even offer a word of comment till he added, "You're not that tired." To that, Unath acknowledged:
Okay. She padded out of the lake and drooped her head to nuzzle at his ashen riding leathers. A drop of phosphine incontinence oozed from the side of her jaw, and Q'sis pulled a cloth from the front of her straps to wipe at the water-thinned flaw. He headed up the lake, toward the waterfall. Unath looked between him and the spot where he had been standing previously a few times, then started and hopped after him.
After a few seconds her jumbled skip surpassed her rider's stride and she trotted ahead of him, pulling open her wings a bit. I am not tired, she echoed in explanation. With just a few mental guideposts set by Q'sis, she ran all the way up to the waterfall pool by herself. Once there she did not need to ask what was necessary, and promptly dipped her snout down the steep rock of the pool to drink what Q'sis hazarded would be her own weight in water. She was hardly the only dragon taking of the seep when he arrived somewhat later, and the whispering of leather wings on rock followed him across the bridge.
He was headed for the Dining Hall, but he had to cross the temporary infirmary camp past the Weyrling Barracks to get there. The gurgling and splashing of the healthy dragons he had left behind was replaced with the rumbling and moaning of variously-sized invalids. Q'sis had far more enthusiasm in observing this place than the happy scene by the waterfall. It was a convenient route. Born into the profession of fast assessment, he did not have to gaze between the tents and along the flats of stone for very long to make his conclusions.
Today it was empty knowledge though. Nothing he could do except add or subtract to the running tally in his head. As he neared the Hall he allowed his thoughts to shift toward interests a little more primitive, especially the thick odor of roast wherry. Sometimes they cut up the dragon-sized breeds and served them to entire table-- Q'sis had been surprised to find them somewhat sweeter than their counterparts sized to the human palate. It was popular, here in the West, to soak the wings in citron and give the whole carcass a more pleasant decorum.
But Q'sis found the fruit soaking gave the wings a candied taste. He was early enough. He would have the wings off the biggest wherry granted to the Senior Weyrlings, and with this hardened resolve his step quickened. Not that he had to worry: no one challenged him on matters so petty as food.
[ OOC: This is probably 1-2 weeks before Kalith's Flight. ]
|
|
RhiaBlack
Wingrider 
rhiact[M:45]
Resident Warcraft Addict
Posts: 328
|
Post by RhiaBlack on Mar 3, 2012 9:58:54 GMT -5
It had been so very long since Z'dyn remembered what rest had felt like. Even as a Drudge, the tasks of chores out in the fields around the Hold - and later on, those issued to Candidates - had been nothing compared to the patrol schedules and Threadfall fighting. Over time, however, his muscles had adapted. His back no longer hurt unless they were out for extended periods of time, or if he had been exercising a substantial amount. Over the last several seasons, Zeke had taken to carrying his exercise indoors, the times he and Bai weren't able to go out.
As a result, his frame had gotten as solid as that of his Iron. Baihujinth was no small Dragonet anymore. Just over forty-eight feet long, he was a far cry from the size he used to be. Fully grown, Bai was now trying to fill out - much like many of his clutch-mates. Make no mistake, however, that the Iron was as broad-chested and massive-winged as just about any other male of his kind. He simply had some growing out to do. Exercise and proper feeding from His had ensured that while it was taking time to thicken Bai up where he needed to be, it wouldn't be anything but muscle. Much as his rider had done the same.
The demeanor of both Ironweyrling and Iron had shifted, also. While still upstanding, respectful, and for the most part cheerful, Zeke had found himself working more and socializing less. The few times he managed to get any spare moments to speak to his fellow Weyrlings were via meals or drills. There was scarcely any time left for anything else. He worked exceptionally hard, and did his best to make sure that his formerly very-impressionable Dragonet learned that there were times for play, and there were times for work. There was no such thing as being lazy - Zeke didn't allow it. He pushed Bai as hard as he pushed himself, and it had served to reign in much of the Iron's bullheadedness on certain issues. He was still arrogant, still very prone to...conflicting opinions...as it were, but he had quickly learned that when His told him to be nice, He expected it to happen immediately.
The last several days had been exceptionally testing. Bai had been in an ill mood all week, for reasons that were a mystery to his bonded. He wasn't sick, nor did he seem displeased with their work. He flew as he was supposed to, he stuck to their patrol paths without any question as to what was expected of him. He was well-behaved. But when grounded and moving about, the Iron was almost annoyingly quiet. It unsettled Z'dyn. While Bai never made it a habit to socialize with either other Dragons or other Riders and Candidates, he had never been particularly silent with His. Even Kee's minor fluttering around him and perching on his head - something certain to rouse at least a disapproving snap - didn't seem to do more than draw silent ire.
As it stood, Zeke had been spending most of the last few candlemarks oiling the soul-mate he'd always wanted, mulling silently over what could possibly be annoying him so much that he would be so withdrawn. A measured sigh, and Bai's large greenish-yellow eye turned to settle on His, as he worked the oil into his Iron's hide.
"Yer quiet t'night, Bai."
::Thinking, Mine.::
"What 'bout?"
::Things. Thread. Coming Turns, such as that.::
Uncertainty. It hit him like a truck, enough that Zeke's hands paused against Bai's darkened hide.
::The flights. Yer worried 'bout the flights. Chasin'.::
Only silence met Zeke's commentary, and he nudged Bai with his shoulder. The large Iron turned his head to look down at him, and Z'dyn grabbed hold of his nose with both hands.
::Yer worryin' too much 'bout stuff's far away from now, Bai. We'll cross that bridge, we come to't, yeah? Don't y'worry. We're gonna be fine. We do what we're s'posed ta, gonna be just fine.::
The sigh that emanated from the broad-chested, matte-hide male was enough to push several of Zeke's braids back across his shoulders. He give the big dragon a pat, and went back to oiling. Bai's mind seemed to ease, and it pleased him. If that was the most major thing that bothered his bonded, then he considered himself lucky.
::Dinnertime is soon, Mine.::
"I know. Soon's we get done here, gonna head in. Not eaten since this mornin', time t'stop my stomach from talkin' t'me."
::Mine too.::
With a grin, Zeke finished up the oiling job on his not-so-little-anymore Baihujinth, and the pair of them ventured for the dining hall. They were early-ish...not too early, but not on the average time most of the others came in. Admittedly, Zeke tried to eat at such times to avoid both the rush, and the fact that Bai's large mass tended to get in the way more often than not - no matter how much he tried to make himself more compact. The gray-skinned male followed His without question. He trusted Z'dyn. He knew His better than any other, and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that Rukbat would flicker and be extinguished before His betrayed him or led him somewhere with danger they could not handle. He was exceptionally proud of his. With that realization, his chest puffed out a little bit more, his wings held a bit higher. Arrogant to a T. Nobody was better than he and His. Nobody. Except maybe the higher-ranking Dragons. He had better be careful. He adjusted his puffed chest a little bit - all the better not to offend who he wasn't supposed to, but send the word to the soldiers in this war that he was a boss to be reckoned with.
Zeke shook his head with a chuckle, all of Bai's self-righteous posturing filtering into his mind. Amusing him quite a bit. He didn't squash much of his bonded's arrogance; a little of that, as far as he was concerned, was healthy. Especially for an Iron, and most especially for a male. He re-bound his middle-back length, dreadlocked-and-braided black mane behind the nape of his neck, as the pair of them moved towards the dining hall.
::I see many we know, Mine.::
::Oh? Like who?:: Zeke harbored and humored Bai's musings.
::Tan Unath, and Hers, for one. You should go say hello.::
::Bein' social now, eh?::
::It is nice. You want me to be nice, yes, Mine?::
Zeke broke into laughter, and gave the freshly oiled Dragon a nudge before moving into the hall and over to one of the tables. He wasn't certain where Q'sis was planning to sit, but he wasn't one to stand around waiting on another male to decide to sit down. The only one he'd ever done that for was Va'an, and it made him more than a little sad to realize he hadn't seen the Weyrling or his Veridian in some time. He exhaled. He had to admit he missed him.
Bai moved off to dinner of his own, leaving His to his meal in peace. Something rarely afforded as often Zeke found himself grabbing something in haste on the way to and from work, chores and drills.
The Ironweyrling settled into a seat, and piled his plate with some of the stronger-tasting pieces of wherry. He enjoyed the sweeter wings sometimes, but given how famished he was, he tended to take most of the stuff other people didn't like as much. That way perhaps there was a chance someone else could come in a little late and still get some of the better pieces. It was joined by a proper mug of Klah, and he had to admit that he was glad he didn't pick another part. The Klah tended to balance out much of the flavor, more often than not. He shook his head, tearing into it once he'd made sure there wasn't any oil still on his hands. He had heard many rumors about the Tanrider, but he wasn't willing to harbor any of them as truth.
Like everything else, Z'dyn made his own decisions based on personal interactions. Everything else? Was heresy.
|
|
Azhdarchid
Jr. Weyrwoman
azhct[M:-1490]
Totes.
Posts: 1,627
|
Post by Azhdarchid on Mar 6, 2012 15:17:04 GMT -5
Q'sis saw the ironrider casting about in a heinously speculative manner over the big wherry and closed the distance, helping himself to a plate and a knife while Z'dyn was starting to wheedle off his share of the meat. Q'sis leaned over the bird from the other side, chopped off its wings and piled them on his plate. He performed the same amputation on another roast a few places down, then returned to the seat he had first planned on: directly in front of the wherry, and across from Z'dyn. A bowl of boiled vegetables was pulled over to his plate from the middle of the table, and Q'sis absolved it of half its contents before giving it a token nudge back toward public use.
He smiled once at Z'dyn, when he had occasion to look the other Tideturner's way. He was searching for the day's offering of drink pitchers, and ended up standing a second time in order to examine the full array. Water, juice, klah. Q'sis' smile faded and he dragged the klah over, one of the Weyrfolk spiriting a stone mug to him just in time to prevent a loud critique of the kitchen staff's handiness. He sat, poured, and took a sip of the spicy drink while he considered the four glistening wherry wings on his plate.
Outside, Unath lifted her thick muzzle away from the waterfall pool, coiling her tongue over her lips a few times to catch the excess. Q'sis unwittingly licked the corner of his own upper lip, just once. His dragon groomed her neighbors a bit, if they were amenable to her nibbling on their knobs and neckridges. Then she tried to turn around while her chest was still wedged between theirs and nearly unbalanced the entire side of the waterfall vanguard. Rumbling to herself, she remained statuesque till the others' heads had dipped back down to drink, then slowly retracted one foot after the other backwards, sliding out of the gathering. She tripped over her tail once, but by then she had already cleared the group and had space to right her collapsed back end.
The tan turned a complete circle before she elected to whomp off down the side of the lake, wings quivering under the russet flush of sunset. She took off after she had meandered to the midpoint of the lakeshore, circling up till she could alight the raised segment of the Rim above her weyr. A handful of finger-like stones crowned the little observation pit where she sat. Unath stuck her head out between two of them, keen on examining Dalibor from above.
"You can take the breast," Q'sis said after one wherry wing sat blue-white and empty of all flesh, and he was digesting the proceeds behind measured takings of klah. "I will not need it." He flashed the flat of his knife at Z'dyn. "But if you do not take it, others will. You are eating the worst parts. The parts given to children and pups. Take what is yours after a Fall."
|
|
RhiaBlack
Wingrider
rhiact[M:45]
Resident Warcraft Addict
Posts: 328
|
Post by RhiaBlack on Mar 7, 2012 16:33:39 GMT -5
Zeke looked upwards, halfway through a mouthful of meat. Taught from an early age not to speak with food occupying what it shouldn't when he did, he swallowed down the conglomerated mess with a sip of his klah, and winced slightly. It was quite a bit stronger than what he was used to; given the rumbling in his stomach, he didn't doubt that it cared as much as he did. Gamey, like it had missed much of the seasoning and what not. He turned sharp eyes towards the indicated wherry breast, and looked back at his plate. At the rate he was tearing through what he'd gotten, it wasn't any doubt he would be able to finish off what was there, as well as what Q'sis had pointed out.
Part of him hesitated, but it wasn't noted as such visibly - just a brief moment of consideration before he stabbed a fork into the wherry breast with scarcely a second thought beyond it. The taller man was right.
"Part'a me's just used t'Drudge mental'ty, I s'pose. Always got the left overs, got in too late ta get anythin' else. Been two turns almost, y'think I'd be outta that by now. 'Specially since we're in time t'get the good stuff."
Z'dyn wiped his mouth with the cloth napkin stuck in one fist, fork wrapped by and between his fingers as he studied Q'sis with a small sense of curiosity. Whatever questions lay buried in his mind stayed put; he didn't want to be rude. It wasn't in his nature to piss people off needlessly, and to some extent this was really the first time he'd ever gotten the chance to actually sit down with the Tanrider to figure him out. He didn't take other people's heresy to heart - he never had. Zeke learned by listening to people, watching how they moved, how they reacted to things. Q'sis was another one he had to keep an eye on for a while to break down and consider. Figure him out.
"Don't think you an' I've ever really had the chance t'introduce ourselves proper-like. Z'dyn, of Iron Baihujinth. I'd offer t'shake yer hand like I do t'ever'body new I meet, but considerin' both of us're eatin'..."
He trailed off, gesturing slightly with his fork before stabbing into the wherry breast and hacking off a portion to chew over. There was little grace to anything he did, especially now that he had been so involved in more rigorous work over the last several turns. He held his utensils well enough, but it was obvious he wasn't used to doing anything short of writing with care for finer details. The fact he had been a Drudge prior to his arrival at Dalibor was never more obvious than the manner he ate. Mannerisms taught to him by his mother to keep him somewhat proper, but he would never be anywhere close to belonging in positions reserved for those with impeccable etiquette.
Z'dyn started fresh with everyone he met, whether he'd seen them in passing before or not. He was aware of Q'sis' name, and his tan - Bai had told him when they'd seen them many times. He did his best to remember names and faces, Dragons and their markings with their respective bonded; but it annoyed him when people came up to him and assumed to know his name, without introducing themselves, and as such he tried his best to never be that way with others. Shoving several braids behind his half-missing ear with the handle of his fork, he mulled over the much more pleasant tasting part he had taken at Q'sis' gesture.
|
|
Azhdarchid
Jr. Weyrwoman
azhct[M:-1490]
Totes.
Posts: 1,627
|
Post by Azhdarchid on Mar 8, 2012 20:59:25 GMT -5
"You should also shake off your drudge speech," Q'sis replied. "No one will understand you in quick times." Threadfall fortunately relied more on the clarity of the dragons' voices, but there were plenty of other situations that called for a sharp tongue. "I am not surprised you failed to ask any of our various Weyrlingmasters about it, and not surprised they also failed to address it. There are harpers here in the Weyr. They will teach you, but because this has gone on so long it will now become a matter of when you can fit your remediation in-between Falls and drills." He paused to crack a wherry bone and drink the melted marrow. "One of the first things you learn, to gain the trust of the holdbred, is to have a clever tongue like harpers do. Holdlings love their harpers."
He laid down the defleshed wing and drank from his mug, one of the weyrfolk slipping in to refill. "My mother has a considerable drawl, she being your kind." Q'sis tipped the new mug to Z'dyn before he drank. "So it took great effort to recover from her 'teachings,' and yet I managed, without even an adult brain." Those flatly olive eyes narrowed. "It should be simple for you."
The tanrider ate. He did not meet Z'dyn's eyes through the introduction, fixated on one of his remaining wings while he gnawed through the other. Then he lifted a handkerchief to his face and gave it a wipe against his beard; he had his liking of being proper in some ways too. "I know who you are," he interjected into Z'dyn's weak conclusion on the greeting. He picked through the cloth for clean spots and wiped the grease off his fingers with them. Then he inspected his skin for any further transferable flaws, and upon finding none stood up sharply, though the hall was now stuffed with seated riders.
Q'sis stuck out his hand over the bony remnants of the carcass, his right hand with its clipped finger and the start of scars at the wrist which just strained into view under the cuff of his flight jacket. Now, Q'sis locked eyes with the other Weyrling. Now he sought to hold them, or stare down at Z'dyn as long as it took him to rise and embrace the gesture. "Nice to meet you, Iron."
|
|
RhiaBlack
Wingrider
rhiact[M:45]
Resident Warcraft Addict
Posts: 328
|
Post by RhiaBlack on Mar 10, 2012 9:26:54 GMT -5
Bai's sturdy growl echoed in Z'dyn's thoughts, requisite as it was for what the Iron considered aggression. It was often that his Bonded played eavesdropper to whatever situation that His was in, simply for lack of better things to do, or even for keeping an eye on Zeke. The former Drudge was inclined to his share of fist fights, and even now that he was often times running so hard with him, his normally melancholy temper tended to flare.
::Mine. Everything is all right?::
::Just fine, Bai. Just fine.::
His shoulders tightened at the address to his off-kilter tongue - half an ingrown reaction to what Baihujinth did outside - before Z'dyn forced himself to relax. Q'sis was right, and he had been working on making himself somewhat more clear in the turns he had been here. It was part of the reason why he physically spoke to his Iron, and not simply transmitted his wills and inquiries via thought; not unless it was something the Ironweyrling deemed to be more private. Visibly shifting his scarred jaw and cheek, his tongue stuck into the side of it as he regarded the larger man with an unguarded sense of amusement. It took a lot to force that look across his features.
Z'dyn studied Q'sis in the manner of a male being sized up by another, for no shorter reason than conclusion of character. Much as he felt the Tanrider was doing to him. Z'dyn smirked.
"Can see how there would be a problem with how I talk," he responded in kind - speaking a tad slower, with more forced articulation - obviously not something that came easily for him.
When necessary, or dealing with particularly difficult situations, Z'dyn recalled the manner his father spoke and did his best to somewhat channel that mannerism. Perhaps not as well-spoken and proper as a Harper or even Q'sis himself, but well within the means of being understandable. Outside of drills and patrols, there simply was no reason in his own mind to be any more communicable than he always had been. He tended to spend more time working than being social, but if Q'sis said it was something he should work on, undoubtedly he intended to take that seriously. Many people seemed to know the larger man, and perhaps his might be the only word of mouth Z'dyn would be inclined to heed.
"Never spend much time outside workin' to warrant any other manner of speakin'. Baihujinth tends to handle everything when we're patrollin', drillin', things like that, far as speakin'." Even when making the effort, certain things tended to get through anyways. Zeke set his jaw in self-annoyance. Now this was something he definitely wanted to work on. "But, like you said. Prob'ly time to break it."
He hadn't dropped his gaze from Q'sis the entire time the pair had been talking - it was something he tended to do. Another habit of his, to look at people when he spoke to them, despite what he may or may not be doing at the time. When the former Trader rose, Z'dyn met the gesture in kind within a split moment, and firmly shook his hand. No wimpy, weak-willed shake, either. A shake from a male who understood hard work, and appreciated the other man's input exactly as he imagined Q'sis intended it - helpful. Z'dyn would get nowhere in this Weyr if he didn't take the consideration and advice of those who he shared it with. Q'sis was ingrained into his thoughts as a man who didn't mince words, but didn't particularly find himself short of them, either.
Z'dyn decided he respected him - beyond what he did everyone else already.
"Pleasure's all mine, Tan. All mine."
|
|
Azhdarchid
Jr. Weyrwoman
azhct[M:-1490]
Totes.
Posts: 1,627
|
Post by Azhdarchid on Mar 15, 2012 15:58:56 GMT -5
"You cannot depend on Baihujinth for everything," Q'sis replied, almost cutting in on Z'dyn's own words. He also had to carefully maintain his speech over the dragon's name, or risk invalidating his wisdom in the matter. "The last time something alarming happened here, it was in this very room, as we were all eating. The dragons were barred outside and could do nothing to help." Q'sis smiled in spite of his words. "Nothing. You speak well on your own, or you weaken both parties in your bond." It was on that note that Q'sis released the ironweyrling's hand. He had not actually been attending the dining hall the moment the forgotten flamethrower exploded, but he had been there to clean up where dragons and fumble-tongues were of no use.
He slid back into his seat and finished off the last wherry wing, meandering through the buttered vegetables a while. His drink choice evolved from klah to redfruit extract to water, the last of which he drank of deeply once he had eaten his fill. "A drudge," he chuckled. "You are of course aware that the other iron in our group bonded to a rotten-mouthed coward of ambiguous origin." He wanted to lean against a firm chair back and rest his eyes, but the stone bench at the Weyrling table of the Hall provided no applicable amenities. Q'sis stretched his legs out one at a time, avoiding Z'dyn's and the other eaters' at the other side. "I have not yet decided if your kind stands up to a bronze."
Unath, high on her Rim perch, squinted down at Baihujinth as her rider continued: "It is a strange time on Pern. I hope he doesn't disappoint." He raised a thick glass chalice full of water to Z'dyn, then drank it dry. "Glad to eat with you. We can talk again once you know how."
|
|
