Collecting Conspiracies
Participants: Rikath, Svaldirath
IC Date: Day 17 of month 3, Turn 10
Synopsis: Svaldirath being typical. Rikath decidedly not so.
Rating: PG
Posted by: Meiglen

Dragon> To Rikath, Svaldirath is nothing but distant sand caught in the wind at first, blowing past Rikath's mindscape idly in not so much a gust but a slow trickle. Eventually the rest of the essence of Svaldirath follows, punctuated by a voice: « Yours mated, » she states, though not as if he did not know. « My congratulations, a week behind. I apologize for my reticence. » She does like to keep on top of everything.

Dragon> To Svaldirath, Rikath responds with his presence slowly. His scent of earth and ozone and his cloying darkness mingles with the wind idly. He is at ease at least, which is sometimes a rarity. « She did. » he agrees, with a trickle of gravelly amusement. « I did not think many dragons would offer congratulations, so no offense is taken. Thank you. » Pause. « There must be a reason you bring this up. »

Dragon> To Rikath, Svaldirath appears surprised, for all that she really appears at all. « I have no ulterior motivation in this instance, » she replies, cool and even. « It is my habit to know what all of my wings and their riders are doing, and yours and Zekoith's seem happy so they do deserve my congratulations. » This is a given with her: she makes it clear, even going so far as to share memories of doing similar such things in the past; welcoming children and congratulating the formation of romantic and political ties. « Though I admit to some curiosity as to why she chose his. »

Dragon> To Svaldirath, Rikath takes interest in the images he's shown; curiousity evident, ironically, by the silence on his end. A lack of sarcasm and suspicion is always a good thing, but since it's his stock in trade, the opposite is usually, well, silence. Except for an acknowledging grunt. « He is good for her. » Mild, is his response. « She is good for him. » To emphasize, he offers the memories that stick with him the mos. Bad ones, of course. SIGH. The two calmly sitting at the lake, playing cards, with Maura sporting the bruises and cuts fron Igen; a flash of her curling up against him after waking in a panic; and then her seated at his bedside when he was in the infirmary.

Dragon> To Rikath, Svaldirath is intrigued, which is unsurprising; for Svaldirath is always intrigued. Curious. Nosy. Thoughtful about other people's business in every way her lifemate is not. She softens, and wraps mental ribbons around these pictures, of these hurt and hurting riders. « They have had it hard together, » she whispers. « What happened? »

Dragon> To Svaldirath, Rikath allows a dark fog to creep in at the edgs of memory, painting it all in a sinister light that would surely appeal to the conspiracy minded. A dramatic lightning strike underscores his still simmering anger over the past, while he explains. « They were part of a wing that worked to help Eastern Weyr when the Weyr Council reneged on its promises to provide tithe. It was outside the council's knowledge. A secret. There are only 12 of 30 pairs left. »

Dragon> To Rikath, Svaldirath is silent for a long time — or else, she is silent of word though not of shape: a thin river of muddy water twisting around each idea. « Do go on, » she prompts, and just like that, Rikath has /all/ of her attention. Back in her weyr, Meiglen likely feels a mental shift, though she is unaware of what has distracted the queen dragon so.

Dragon> To Svaldirath, Rikath likes a captive audience. Emphasis on captive, though. So he continues. « A disease, from another time. They all suffered, and many did not survive. Ch'rii and Maura were wingmates in Igen, and in this matter. » Memories of their raids pop in and out, as do ones of the suffering of the riders as they rode out their illness. « And then there was trouble with Maura's sister, that he helped her with. She decided there was no sense in waiting to go after something she wanted. Not after all of that. »

Dragon> To Rikath, Svaldirath makes a fantastic captive audience, just as much as she would make a bad physical captive, being rather large. « A wise choice, » the gold says eventually, after a very long, processing pause. « You wish me to keep this from Meiglen, » she guesses, just based on the secret-air-of-secrecy. « Yours still believes we are spies for the Council as Abydoth's does? »

Dragon> To Svaldirath, Rikath feels a sense of vindication, the crunch of his considerable bulk settling back on the parapets giving voice to his comfort with the gold. « I nudged her along, of course. It was a much better choice then letting herself fall into bed with D'lan. Ggrrrr. » He's still angry about that. But it's his turn to pause, the low moan of wind passing through cracks in stone the only indication he's there. « You do not need to keep it from Meiglen. I still believe the Council is trying to use you both. But she asks no questions. And you are too compentent to immediately believe their lies. I have learned that, slowly. Just know that the council is unworthy of admiration. And that Maura and Ch'rii and the others that are still alive would face many consequences if their activities were revealed. » Trust, from him, is SO HARD to come by, that it should be surprising.

Dragon> To Rikath, Svaldirath seems to, at first, be trying to remember who D'lan is — they didn't have much, if any, overlap at Eastern. Eventually the ghost of a name comes up, shrouded in dust befitting an old memory. « Wyncrath. We did not meet, » she confirms. « But everyone is entitled a mistake; better then they know how good the one they eventually love is. » Yes, this dragon is a matchmaker, unrepentantly, and always has been. So she's never been caught by the same fellow twice. « No one lies to me, » she adds, sweetness and light about it. « They only try to. My dam's rider is a fool and her chosen mate as well. »

Dragon> To Svaldirath, Rikath grumbles in annoyance at merely the name of the other brown. « Yes they are. But nobody hurts /my/ rider and comes away unscathed. » he qualifies, a shadow of his underlying menace and violent tendencies rearing its head. « She is happy now, and that is good. » is agreed, then, and accompanied by an appreciative chortle. « And that is why I respect you. »

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