|RL Date: 21 August, 2016|
|Who: Roszadyth, Farideh, Leova, Vrianth|
|Involves: High Reaches Area, High Reaches Weyr|
|What: Leova checks in on Roszadyth and surprises Farideh with some happy suggestions.|
|Where: Mountain Meadow, High Reaches Area|
|When: Day 14, Month 8, Turn 41 (Interval 10)|
|Mentions: Irianke/Mentions, Jocelyn/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, Drex/Mentions, Jo/Mentions, Mielline/Mentions, Edyis/Mentions, A'rist/Mentions, Ethran/Mentions, Andreia/Mentions, Anvori/Mentions, Lilabet/Mentions, Madilla/Mentions, Via/Mentions, Veylin/Mentions, Varian/Mentions|
The grasses are drier now than they had been earlier in the season, but they don't exactly crunch beneath landing dragons' paws, much less the faint riffle of the breeze. This far inland, there's no hint of salt in the air, and diffuse clouds filter the summer sunshine. The dragonhealer, dealing with Vrianth's straps, can spare an eye for Roszadyth; "How's she feel, after the straight flight?" The corner of her mouth turns up. "How are you surviving? We'll 'tween back." Don't worry.
"Roszadyth is glad to have the wind under her wings," the goldrider says, glancing fondly from her lifemate to the dragonhealer. It has been little more than a month since the birth of Farideh's second that they've been cleared to fly again, and it's clear they both enjoyed the sensation. Farideh is rosy cheeked, with her shirt sleeves pushed up to her elbows and her hair all skewed atop her head. "I feel better after this second than I did after the first, though the recovery was long-- is that not odd?" She laughs at her own circumstances, giving the gold dragon a fond pat on her side flank. "How have you been? I feel as though I see you less often, than before. I see everyone less often than before," is more thoughtful than deprecating.
Vrianth is not patient with the straps, nor is she the patient here. She prowls as soon as she's freed, talons light on the earth and not so much as tangling in its grasses, with an errant sniff for Rozadyth's hip along the way. Those straps are small, nothing like a queen's, but still they make a substantial pile by the green's saddlebags. Leova's laughing too, though. "Rather that than worse! Good. Let yourself take the time to recover, mayhaps." She stretches, her own sun-rusted hair disheveled even once she's run a hand through it. "Been keeping busy. Want to get things done over the summer, before we all chill up in our caves... speaking of, getting work done on the weyr, too. Trying not to look into Via too much," young harper apprentice that she is.
Roszadyth is happy! Tendrils of her sunny interior reach out and embrace everyone. Happy, happy! Content to simply sit in the sunshine, this far from home, and, head canted, observe Vrianth's prowling. "I try, but I get terribly irritable staying in one place that long." Farideh takes Leova's lead and stretches her own arms overhead, before her hands make their way to her hips in a settled manner. "Now is the time to do it. What kind of changes were you making?" she asks, interested, and then with a little more curiosity, "How is she? You cannot tell me you haven't looked into it at all. I won't believe you any. If it was Ethran, I'd be getting regular reports."
"Mm." Leova's cheeks warm visibly, a rarity, and she glances away. Glances to her dragon. "We're supposed to be working," is no defense from the happy that Vrianth doesn't save her from, and it's not like there isn't usually quiet talk at these times. Vrianth's eyes are green within the blue, looking back to her, clearly amused. Leova's smile crinkles about her eyes, in the curve of her lips. "Won't say I don't check in. If Suireh weren't off posted, would feel better. But. Madilla's daughter, she's there too, though much older," with a wry tilt of that smile for that. "Do you see him Crafting?"
A side-glance is given to the gold by her rider, and those warm cheeks are courteously not commented on. "I apologize. We still haven't-- we don't get out that often, and she's happy to be away. They aren't her eggs, after all, and that makes her a little-- sad. A little. I remind her that they're her daughter's, but it's not the same." Dragons. "That's got to be a relief, knowing someone there can look out for her, at least," Farideh muses aloud. "Ethran? I don't know. I suppose he can, if he wants to. I don't know how Drex would feel about it, but perhaps the seacraft. It would make it more official, wouldn't it? He's so small now. I don't think he has a-- you know, skill yet."
For the apology, Leova has a slight lift of one shoulder: not fussed, not really. Besides, she's happy. "Oh, Roszadyth," she says, with another smile that has nothing halfway about it at all. "Remind her that you're happy... you are, aren't you? ...to get to go out and about now, not be in the heat of the summer? As for skill... suppose that puts paid to the rumor of his being born with a silver oar in his mouth," her smoky alto all humor even as Vrianth takes flight at last. Happy.
Two happy dragons! Oh, so happy. And free! "I am. I remind her all the time. She's happy about Andreia too, but-- it's been two and a half turns now. Do you think she won't rise for longer since she rose too soon?" Momentarily, Farideh looks concerned for her lifemate, but then it's back to contented. "A silver oar. I think Drex would be mad to hear it. Worse, my mother would. I'll be happy if he grows up happy. He could be a sailor, or a harper, or a rider-- anything."
"A tanner," suggests Leova, touching a finger to the side of her nose. Only then she catches herself, saying quickly, "Useful craft. Don't know what we'd do without them. Just, well." The smell! The look she gives Roszadyth isn't accusing exactly, more assessing. Glad to assess. "Might be, aye. Though I reckon it's more having three breeding queens, hm? Interval and all that. She looks in good health, I saw the way she moved."
"A tanner," gets the wrinkling of Farideh's freckled nose. "As soon a vintner. At least, he can bring home wine bottles when he visits." It may be joke, or not. "You might be right. Niahvth hasn't risen yet either, so it must be-- it must be. Roszadyth must be the only one who misses the whole ordeal. I certainly don't." And she scowls, because memories of that night have to be unpleasant; fights, flights, and flighty men. "That's good to hear. I worry sometimes."
"At least, he'll learn which wine is good, hm? Wonder about vintner for one of the twins, now that you mention it. Though Anvori," but Leova doesn't continue the thought. There's Roszadyth to look over, that familiar procedure, moving around the queen to examine her apparent health. Her stretching flexbility, too. The span of her wings. Even, with the help of her glowtube, the membranes of her mouth and nostrils. Her teeth. Her eyes. It takes time, time to talk. Along the way, "Get that, with everything." The looks. The significances. The consequences. All the things they've talked about, sometimes, or else had a place to not talk. "Even if Ros rose and Niahvth still didn't, I wouldn't worry," though she might keep an eye on it, and the betting might change. Would change. "Get Irianke's not wanting a glut," though the word's audibly uncomfortable. Just that word.
"Which one?" It isn't likely Farideh can tell one from the other, but there is importance in knowing who might be hustling wine around the Weyr.. even in the future. "You think Irianke is keeping her from rising?" That thought makes a little furrow form between her brows. "I wonder if we will resort to brown suitors-- she always said, whomever-- she wouldn't, but then Aidavanth--" She begins worrying her bottom lip, as the dragonhealer checks out the gold. "It's an Interval," is said blankly, as a matter of fact.
"Either. No, the girl, safer," Leova supposes, saving the other woman from the names. "No, not keeping her," though her own expression turns briefly speculative, curious: how hard would that be? "Just, hm. Finding something to appreciate about the situation as it is." She walks under the queen's near wing, looking up at how the sun sets the fine membranes aglow. "Interval, aye. What do you make of that pair?"
"Safer?" The greenrider's admission makes Farideh laugh. "I can't imagine why girls in the vintner craft would be any safer." It's short-lived amusement, turned serious by the topic of conversation. "That pair? Irianke and Niahvth? I think Irianke is a competent weyrwoman. She's not experiencing the same-- problems, I did when I took over for her absence. That speaks volumes, I think. We haven't gone hungry. No holds are rebelling. That we know of. Everything is going well. Don't you think?"
"Mm. Father, son, father who's skilled but not a vintner," wry, protective. Leova listens through a first moment of surprise, says, "Aye. I think so, I hope so." Her fingers are crossed, held high to see before she returns to tracing a vein's flow. "Want to keep it that way. Did mean Aidavanth and Akluseth, though. Jocelyn and Edyis, Jocelyn and Aidavanth? Edyis and Akluseth. Those."
"Mm. Father, son, father who's skilled but not a vintner," wry, protective. Leova listens through a first moment of surprise, says, "Aye. I think so, I hope so." Her fingers are crossed, held high to see before she returns to tracing a vein's flow. "Want to keep it that way. Meant, I admit, Aidavanth and Akluseth though. Jocelyn and Edyis, Jocelyn and Aidavanth? Edyis and Akluseth. Those."
There's the moment of ah-ha that goes by quietly, because Farideh does know that one well; non-crafter weyrmates and their potentially-crafter children; pride and all that. "Adavanth and Akluseth," she breathes out, a wry smile arising. "They seem to be working out well? I haven't heard too terrible of gossip, but those same gossips swear K'del is schlepping one of the newly posted healer apprentices." Her tone suggests she doesn't buy into that particular rumor. "And the eggs? What do you think?"
"K'del? A healer apprentice?" It is, for Leova, to laugh with her own quiet dismissiveness. Not that Vrianth doesn't glance keenly down from on high: Cadejoth. "Eggs seem well enough," the dragonhealer says after a slow moment. "Hardening. Hoping for more of the smaller dragons, though can't say there won't be a bronze crammed in there, even with that sire. Eleven, eleven's good. There might be one," but she hesitates.
"A few of his children are old enough to be the ones schlepping the healer apprentice," Farideh supplies, dryly, and perhaps that's the case given birth rights. She's all seriousness again to listen to the greenrider's take on the eggs. "Eleven is a lot, isn't it? Eleven new dragons, eleven new riders-- when we have three queens." Grave. "I hope Roszadyth doesn't rise for a while or Niahvth either, and I hope theirs are small-- er." Reverberating through the meadow, through the sheen of happiness: Cadejoth!? Where!? And he may be getting a knock-knock on his end. Poor Cadejoth.
The implication's heard, given the new quality of Leova's chuckle, but there's no dwelling on that from the dragonhealer. Rather: "Mm, substantial, but not 'so many the comet must be coming back,' aye? Got to say, wouldn't have expected Edyis to stand clutchsire, but seems like she's been fair regular about it all. Good girl." And because of the happy, even though Vrianth's snorting a not-here, "Edyis or A'rist for you, for clutchsire?" she teases. "If you had to pick." If she got to pick.
Little to do but stand back and watch -- and likely war internally with her dragon -- Farideh paces in the grass, frowning. "I haven't kept tabs on Edyis lately. We've had our days, where she's been-- angry, with me. Has she gotten better?" She glances to Leova. "I--" Mouth opens, mouth closes, both a few times. "I don't know. A'rist wasn't-- he's--" She flushes and folds her arms. "It would be weird, with Edyis. We used to be friends."
The question, the what happened, lingers in the air, but evidently Leova's not so Roszadyth-happy that she asks. Or perhaps it has to do with the concentration on the little bits, between the queen's talons, asking to see them flex. "Sorry that didn't go down so good. Yeah, she's had moods," a word that lingers too, "Can't say how she is for people mostwise, but standing by her duties there, that's something. Don't know why she'd be angry with you... 'less it were your moods," that with a half-smile that's not quite that question after all.
When Leova isn't looking, Farideh scowls at her back, but true to form, she's blowing out a breath and returning to a less grumpy disposition. "I hope she's treating Jocelyn well. I don't get along with either of them-- that might be the ticket. They can bond on their mutual dislike of me," is definitely self-deprecating. "I'm glad though. Responsibility might be just what she needed. It seemed to work for K'del-- sort of, when he's not being all big-headed." Tell them how you really feel, Farideh.
"Aside from then," Leova not-agrees quite gravely. "Like to see responsibility goes to those as are responsible already... but 'side from that, good when it does help." She pauses. "You realize I'll want you and them, Ros and Aidavanth, to get back to working on rescuing the falling dragons when Aidavanth's off the sands? 'Round a month off, give or take when she's back to more of herself again. Like to see your girl getting more active exercise in the meantime, too, not just floating about. Like today, but agility too." It's not quite a throat-clearing, just a pause for the sheer size of golds, "Best she can, anyhow."
The look on Farideh's face becomes more and more resigned. "Of course, whenever they're able to." It's the second half that takes her by surprise, but she's quick to hide that jolt of shock behind a placid facade. "Exercise? What do you suggest?" Roszadyth doesn't seem annoyed by this news, rather she seems even happier! Hurray! Twitching her wings, she stirs restlessly, wide eyes taking in Leova with renewed interest.
It's not that Leova winks at Roszadyth, precisely, more of a slow half-closing of her eyes before fully opening them once more. "Getting out. See if you can get a fighting wing to take you on for some drills, not the flaming variety. Snowdrift, maybe? Swimming'd be good too, but in addition. Races over distance. Shadow some long sweeps. The more you can get in before winter, the better, but," she's a healer, there's a 'but,' "ramp it up slowly so's not to overdo, too. What will you give a go first?"
Wind ripples the grass and makes more sound than Farideh does when Leova reveals her suggestion. It takes a brace of seconds before the goldrider can put together words. "A fighting wing?" she echoes, hollowly. "You want us to-- Mielline's wing." An indelicate sniff. "You think she needs it?" Her eyes lift to her lifemate, locking eyes with those big, wide-set, swirly ones. "If it's what you suggest, then we will," but her tone suggests she might not be happy with it. "Have a go at? I-- don't know."
"Or another. There's always Glacier," might be teasing. Might. "Think about it, do some talking around. I'll make a note for Irianke," as usual, "though you'll see her before I will, hm? Want to hear from you in the next few days.' It's not volition that has Leova smiling when she spots the pair, though, looking at each other the way they are. Catching an idea, "Think of it this way: if she does go up, you'll want her in fine fettle before she sits the sands." And for the flight itself?
"Glacier," cue face-making. "I'll take Snowdrift if I'm to take any. At least, there's Jo, and Mielline isn't the most terrible that there is." Farideh drops her gaze from her dragon to the greenrider, somber-faced. "I don't know that that's a good idea. The shorter the flight--" Her eyes shift aside and there are plenty of words unspoken; but what does she -- the one flight only-er -- know?
"Jo's not shown up much in the gossip lately," Leova murmurs in lieu of calling Snowdrift's high or scant praise. Unusual. But more importantly, "Fewer eggs," unless you're Niahvth for whatever reason, "but higher chance of crash." So there's that. "On top of needing her reserves and condition for the sands. Which, yes, may be a Turn or more, but we don't know."
"I believe she's been lying low." And that's all Farideh can give on that front, having being stuck in her weyr for much of the last few months. "Or Mielline could have told her lie low," as an after thought. "Higher chance of crash." Sigh. "Fine. Fine-- I understand, it's just--" She makes another face, not even trying to hide it; she's grown beyond these exercises it seems to say! "I'll talk to Irianke-- and, if need be, K'del, about-- doing rotations with Snowdrift."
Thought or afterthought, the combination reflects in Leova's deep, one-cornered smile. At that face of Farideh's, it changes tone but still has that latent mischief of what's perhaps the girl she used to be. Perhaps. Vrianth is happy. Thank you," Leova says once her tone can be made grave once more, and with real seriousness. "I realize this will take more of your time. Perhaps, at least, you can go to fun places. In the meantime," surely there are more fun topics with which to continue surveying Farideh's queens, the better to return to the Weyr with lighter hearts. Between.