Parallax And P'sec


Lenia.jpg P'sec.jpg

Dragons: Blue Orralth and Bronze Abydoth

Date: June 02, 2011
Location: Eastern Weyr: Lakeside
Synopsis: Lenia bathes Orralth and talks to P'sec about settling in. Abydoth unsettles Orralth.
Rating: G
Logger: Lenia

Lenia and Orralth are beside the lake again, in one of their favorite spots. The sun is just threatening to rise, and Lenia is laying across Orralth's back, looking upwards toward the stars. She mutters quietly about ellipses and fragments and pauses to let her dragon comment. The comment appears to have some quiet humor in it, because both dragon and rider snort as softly as they can. As the sun begins to come up a little more, Lenia stirs into action, shucking her riding top and pulling out a bucket from beside the blue. "Well, of course I'm going to scrub you, Orralth. Your hide is filthy." She shakes her head, and begins the stride to get water.

Abydoth could be almost missed drifting in without sunlight to bring out the metallic glimmer to his dark hide. His silence doesn't help; one minute, it's just Lenia and Orralth, and in the next the small, muscular bronze is nearly upon them, dropping down at the shore of the lake. "Hey." It's P'sec's job to greet for the both of them as he slides down and smothers a yawn.

Dragon> To Abydoth, Orralth is awake and loquacious. « Hey, Abydoth. » The wind blows through their link, carrying with it the dry dust of the desert. « You're up early. » It's like he's pulling himself out of a deep concentrated effort toward something. He's not noticed much around him. As usual.

Lenia stops short, noticing the wingpair flying in, somewhat startled by their 'sudden' appearance. "P'sec." It's a noddingly respectful greeting from a younger rider to an older one. "Everything alright, sir?" It's almost automatic, this addition to the end of her sentence. It's not a common convention, but it does happen from time to time.

Dragon> To Orralth, Abydoth is awake but tight-lipped. His acknowledging touch heightens the wind into the quick, scuttering swirl that rakes up dust in small dervishes then just as quickly drops away.

"Sorry, I haven't learned everyone's name yet," is the bronzerider's way of admitting he's forgotten Lenia's. "Yeah, just - hold the thought, will you?" And P'sec strides into the lake, sandals and all, so he can bend down and dunk his head. Water streams off as he straightens. "Better."

Lenia frowns, watching the man's strange behavior. "Lenia, rider to blue Orralth." She nods. "There are more of us than there are of you, so it's easier for us to remember who you are. Besides, Orralth's got this thing about how people relate to each other or something, so 'new ichor'," here she makes air quotes to signify his exact words, "was a huge deal." She glances around, as though looking for something. "Are you guys getting settled in okay?"

Dragon> To Abydoth, Orralth catches the acknowledgement and runs with it. « So…» The interjection is drawn out, his myopic interest suddenly focused on the bronze. « Tell me about fitting in here. » When the dragon wants information, he can be succinct. « Any problems? Is it different from your … hatching Weyr? » A myriad other questions swirl around his head like fine grains of sand.

P'sec blinks water out of his eyes and passes his hand over his short hair once to slick out what water's left. The quick dunk did its job, and he looks much more awake as he comes back to shore. "Lenia," the man says in the way of committing a name to a face. "I'm P'sec and he's Abydoth, but you know that. How's he finding us?" With the question he glances at Orralth, curious about the dragon's perception. "Yeah, we're not bad," he answers Lenia's question next. "Knowing some people helps. Where were you from originally?"

"Like — before Orralth? Or where I Impressed him?" Lenia is always confused as to which answer to give. Her life changed so much when she met the blue's eyes that it's difficult for her to consider herself the same person. "Um, I was raised near Peyton Hold, and went Starsmith. Ran into Orralth on Southern's sands." There. That's the whole sordid dossier in a small drum-cadence. "What about you?" She leans forward, crossing her arms over her chest, mindful always of the bucket in her hands.

Dragon> To Orralth, Abydoth is hard to draw out, almost determined to frustrate attempts to do so. He answers in his own way, contrasting the season at Eastern with its winds and rains with Igen's dry heat and its clear, bone-cold cloudless nights. Different, clearly, but the images and sensations rush in and out without the resentful edge that would indicate a problem.

Dragon> To Abydoth, Orralth likes the desert, if the images his mind conjures up are any indication. He draws the images of Igen into his own mental space, looking over them, reminiscing about something there. For a moment, his attention is focused on that. Not for long, though, unfortunately for the older dragon. « Yeah. I wasn't so much thinking about the weather. » It's dry, acerbic, and typical Orralth.

P'sec sometimes forgets there's life before Impression so Lenia's confusion briefly gives him pause. He opens his mouth to clarify, too slow, and modifies it a minute later after the quick patter of the bluerider's history. "So, Southern. Me, I'm Igen born-and-raised. Him too." His hand gives Abydoth's foreleg a quick slap. The older man then gives Lenia a considering look. "Starsmith, huh. You still craft much?"

Lenia gets some of the pictures via the mindlink, watching the desert roll by, and feeling Orralth's contentment because of it. A bright twinkle shines in her eyes as she 'listens'. "Oh, yeah. I mean, just as you came up, we were discussing the fragmentary process, and whether there was any chance of the pieces stabilizing any time soon. I mean, you have to factor in the new paths, and the other debris up there, like the Yokoma and the other …. " A loud whuff cuts her explanation off. "Right." Not everyone needs to hear the details. She wrinkles her nose as she realizes her faux pas. "It's kinda wet here, isn't it?" It's a lame segue, but … work with her, here.

Dragon> To Orralth, Abydoth settles down sphinx-like in the corner of consciousness as Orralth sifts through the things he's shared. The comment that comes when the blue's attention returns receives the dry huff of laughter. Then, considering what the blue might want, he fires off further snapshots of the past life lived: a wing of dragons seen from his position at point leading them on, the close contentment of a family followed by the sudden hollow ache of its absence.

Dragon> To Abydoth, Orralth winces at the shock of emotion in the thoughts, but schools his mind back into quietude. « Wow. That's uh … » He scrambles for words, and comes up empty, simply gazing up at the other dragon's 'space' for a long moment. « Well, we're glad to have you here. I mean, we can use all the fighting dragons we can get at this point. » There's some back-thought about their Weyrleader running off on them, but it's like a grumbled epithet whispered in a foreign language. He offers his own succinct memory-stream, giving the bronze a few minor pointers about 'who's who' in Eastern, both present and recent past. « Uh, if you need anything, I mean … need some sort of information like that … » There's a mental shrug as he lets his thought trail off.

P'sec politely keeps his attention on Lenia but his gaze starts to glaze. "Uh huh. So - translate?" He's wry about his own lack of understanding and gives the bluerider half a smile as she catches herself. "Yeah," he agrees, but like Lenia's dragon doesn't want to talk about the weather either. "Can see how it'd be good for you to be here, near Landing." It's a polite, verbal tip of the hat towards her earlier stream of Starsmithing talk.

The request for translation is a bit of a surprise to the blue rider that she startles visibly. "Uh, what?" She plays back the comments in her head, snickering to herself as she notes his 'glazed over' look. "Well, basically, before the … split, we could accurately predict when Thread would fall to … well, to a several minute window. Now, that's all shot to —" She was gonna say the Red Star, but given the topic of their conversation, she changes the epithet. "Shot to Between, and so, the Starsmiths are trying their best to see if we can predict anything at all. I mean, it's not a huge issue, but it made things easier and now we have to go back to relying on our dragons to be the warning systems. I mean, they were designed to do that, and they do a really good job, but … " She trails off again, returning to the topic with a quiet, "it sure made things easier," and a shrug.

Dragon> To Orralth, Abydoth tempers himself and draws back, emotion dissipating and floating away into the ether. What remains is Abydoth's cool, steady calm, as fixed as granite. At least, until a fragment of gratitude splinters off, a thank you for the welcome, the interest, the information.

Dragon> To Abydoth, Orralth senses the … dismissal, and casts his mind about for something else to focus on. He's glad to be helpful, but like his rider, likes to keep his mind busy. The chip of granite is taken, examined, and set aside in a mental rockpile that nearly equals his physical one. He turns his attention inward, or more accurately toward the conversation between the two riders, huffing in quiet exasperation at Lenia's long-winded explanations.

The second time round, P'sec follows a whole lot better. He leans back against Abydoth, folding his arms casually as he listens. "Yeah," he agrees at the end, "it did." But P'sec is not in the business of dwelling this morning, and shortly thereafter he offers a humourously self-deprecating explanation for his earlier self. "I do that, too - not a Starsmith by far for all I've heard 'em talk."

Lenia nods, then turns toward Orralth, feeling the weight of his regard on her, both mentally and physically. "You alright?" She vocalizes her question, sort of including P'sec in the loop. The dragon's response is to lean toward her, and lower his head, resting his forepaws out far enough to nearly reach her. It's an answer in and of itself, at least to her. She seems satisfied, and busies herself with scooping up some water for the moment while she considers the older rider's words. "It is really nice to be near Landing." She picks up the earlier thread of conversation, as though just now remembering his comment. "Master Donal's there, and he's so good about explaining things pretty clearly." The Masterstarsmith is a very unique person, and she enjoys going to talk to him when she can. "I don't get to see him as often as I like, but he is close." She shrugs. "You like looking at the patterns?" She can kind of see that, and wonders exactly where his interest is. "I — I could show you some of the pictures I've taken recently."

Lenia's question to her dragon occasions a quick glance towards Abydoth's head - did he do something? P'sec's own question is silent, apparent only in the externalities of his mildly questioning regard, but his dragon is still both in body and mind. After a moment, P'sec turns away. "Donal, huh," he murmurs, filing the name away for possible later use. "The patterns?" he repeats, not exactly following. As for Lenia's offer, it gets a nod. "Sure. I'd like that." And although P'sec's not exactly forthcoming, he at least tries to put into words where his interest lies. "Figure it's good to know as much as we can about what'll help us, here, fighting this thing." This thing. Thread. The bronzerider demonstrates a military mind rather than a scientific aptitude.

Lenia gets that. She really does. She's split between the two. Not evenly, but it's there. "Oh, okay. I misunderstood what you said." She thought he might be a watcher like herself. "I'd have to get them. The newest ones are up in my weyr." That's not an invitation up for 'klah' for all it might sound like one. She shifts a bit, moving to set the water down beside the blue, knuckling him gently between the eyes, as though scratching an ever-present itch. "That's what we're trying to figure out. Because if we can quantify it, we can find the patterns, and it makes the fight a little more predictable. And a predictable enemy is a dead enemy, right?" She guesses he'll appreciate that. She reaches into the bucket to grab a brush, and begins scrubbing at Orrath's dirty hide, doing fairly well to keep the water off her leathers' pants. "Or, I can show you some other time, if you're busy." It's a hint of uncertainty that seems to hover in her words as she talks to him.

P'sec takes Lenia's remarks at face-value for the most part, outside of the small hint of curiosity spurred by her reference to where her pictures are. If he misunderstands it, at least he hides it well. "Now that," he says to her explanation of the whys rather than the hows, "is something I can get understand." A sudden warmth floods his tone. "Another time, soon?" He phrases it without dismissal, sounding genuine. "We just came down so I could have a dunk," literally, "and wake up a bit. Trying to get our bearings; flying's the best way I know."

Lenia grins. "Sure. Just have Abydoth let Orralth know. I mean, we're kind of night owls right now, except when we're drilling or whatever." She's a good wingrider, but her heart is in the science-y stuff. "It doesn't hurt our normal sweep times, and it helps out the crafters to get a different parallax." She shrugs, not really aware of the possibility that he doesn't understand the last part. "Ohh, you should see the sunrise over that — " She points toward a specific peak. "Point up there. It's absolutely gorgeous." It's also where she sits some days to 'watch' when she needs to. Good vantage point, and quiet. "It was — It was good to meet you in person, sir." Again with the automatic deference. Probably crafter-training. "Um — " After a pause, she continues. "Orralth says he offered information if you guys need it. So, I will too." She figures Abydoth will have gotten the message, but it doesn't hurt to get a little reinforcement on the rider side of things.

"Para-what?" Nope, definitely didn't understand the word. P'sec glances in the direction Lenia indicates and nods. "Thanks for the tip. And the offer. We'll come by to pick your brains and you can show me those pictures soon, eh?" He starts to pull himself up, hand-over-hand until he's finally sitting in position atop Abydoth. Where he's wet he'll dry off in the wind generated from flying, not having any intention to go between. The bronze rouses, starting to lift himself. "And P'sec's fine," his rider calls across to Lenia, a belated response to her use of 'sir' a second time round. It serves as farewell too, along with the man's hand lifting as they depart.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License