Real Fear


Rocio.jpg F'min.jpg Voldrath

Date: Aug 19, 2010
Location: Eastern Weyr
Synopsis: This is the last portion of a log between F'min and Rocio. F'min and Voldrath find out that it is Rocio who is the candidate wanted in Crom. Voldrath doesn't respond well.
Rating: PG
Logger: Rocio's log via Bast

The silhouette of F'min's head starts to nod at her answer, then slows, and stops. The dragon's head rises, giant eyes opening fully with glints of yellow interrupting their placid blue swirls. He opens his mouth, showing his teeth as he sniffs at the woman. "Down boy, she's been sniffed. I don't care if y'don'trust blues. Th'queens do." There's a lengthy moment of silence, and then he says quietly, "I 'spect we did, at that, Rocio."

For the first time since she's gotten here, Rocio feels real fear. She shifts the basket in unconscious gesture to in front of her, as if the light might cast some tangible shield between herself and the dragon, and the dragon's teeth. In that moment of irrationality, as her brain sluggishly processes the words that F'min speaks aloud and the likely interpretation of what the dragon said, that prompted those words, Rocio bobs a step back. The light, in its new orientation, shows now the pale of cloth that not only drapes over her shoulders, but also in front of the majority of her face. "Yes sir." Her voice sounds thready now, and Rocio conciously clears her throat before speaking again, "You have a good night, sir." The preferred flight that surging adrenaline urges, is suppressed, but Rocio's hands shake badly, hindering her contining to change the glows, one at a time, in her prolonged march across the lake-to-be.

"Candidate," the seacrafter's drawl follows after Rocio, as does the rider himself for a couple of steps. "Y've been found worthy t'stand fer an egg. That counts fer a lot. Voldrath won't hurt y'. Although he might like t'make y'think he could."

There's a slight hesitation at the next glow, and Rocio nearly drops it, before she becomes very still. And draws her breath in very deep, summoning calm through force of will. "Yes sir. I hope so, sir. And…" She pauses in speech, as if unable to juggle both that and the high emotions that course through her, and perform some rote manual labor. The new glow is fastened in. "Thank you, sir." Dead neutral, the tones. Rocio's regard flickers over to the dragonridering pair, before she picks up her basket and makes her escape.

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