Runners Versus Dragons


Kaskan.jpg Lenia.jpg

Date: Sept 14, 2010
Location: Eastern Weyr: Lakeshore
Synopsis: Kaskan ties two runners to the rails by the lake, and runs into Lenia. Conversation ensues.
Rating: PG-13
Logger: Lenia

Day #: 02 Month #: 11 Turn #: 1
Time : 07:20:00 PM
It is the summer season, on a warm and raining evening.

Now that the lake is full, Orralth has decided to spend a good portion of his time just lazing beside it. Most of the time, he watches the new weyrlings swim and play, snorting a draconic laugh at their antics. However, sometimes, he just sits and watches them interact, keeping his first set of eyelids closed, hoping to give the indication he's asleep. Until they make him laugh again. When he wants to do this, Lenia's all for it, especially during the night hours. The Starcrafter-turned-bluerider lays back on the blue's back and gazes up at the sky. Tonight is one of those nights. It rains, but only lightly, and it doesn't faze the woman. She lays back on Orralth, and looks upward, marking the path of some foreign body with her far-viewer.

A pair of runners are led slowly into the bowl by a dark-haired young man who's wandering gaze makes it obvious he isn't from around here. The runners quick-step with their feet as they walk, ears twitching and eyes darting as they watch the nearby dragons. Their handler clicks an occasional reassurance with his tongue and brushes a hand down their neck ending on a confident pat. Coming to a stop a safe distance away from Orralth, Kaskan wraps the reins securly about his hand and steps between the runners and the lounging blue. Giving his chin a toss to swing over-long bangs from his view he watches the rider for a moment before calling upward, "Hey there! Farviewer!"

Rolling over on Orralth's back as he shifts his head to look at the man coming their way, Lenia nearly falls off. "Orry. Just a moment." She lowers the far-viewer, and gently grabs near Orralths pinion to steady herself as she sits up. "Runner-walker. Hey." She flashes a bright smile at the young man, and moves to cross her leg awkwardly across the other one. It's comfortable, though it doesn't look it. "What's going on?"

A little hitch at the corner of Kaskan's lips lightens the concern on his face. Raising one arm he gestures with a loose salute, fingers brushing the air above his temple, before swinging the motion toward the nearby fencing. "Clear skies, Rider," he says now that he has her attention. His orders were specific about being diplomatic. "Do you know if it's alright if I hitch my runners to the fence here for a bit?" he asks, giving himself mental kudos for starting off on the right foot.

Lenia shrugs, and wiggles around until she can find just the right place. She sets the instrument across her lap, and grins again at the man. "Dunno. Not my fence." After a couple seconds of silence, she relents and says, "Probably, though they might spook a bit when the weyrlings come out to drink. Orry, any due out here for a while?" The blue has been watching, and keeping track. "Ah. He says it'll probably be alright for now. Most all of them have gotten their baths and drinks for now." There are a few dragons that might come out just to prove Lenia wrong, or because they're curious, but Orralth isn't telling. "What brings you to Eastern?" It's pure curiosity, as well as worry about new faces. One can never tell these days.

Kaskan tilts an uncertain glance up at the rider for a moment, then light blue eyes dart to either side searchingly. When the coast does appear to be clear he nods once firmly and guides the runners to the nearest section, securing them with an easy loop of the reins around the wood. Taking a moment to caress each along muzzle and neck he murmers something that makes their noses twitch and one whuffles softly. Reaching into a pocket he brings out a couple of sugar cubes for each and leaves them happily distracted and munching as he walks back toward the helpful rider. "Thanks," he calls out as he nears, again stopping at a respectful distance. At her question the hitch of earlier returns stronger and he cocks a suspicious brow as he replies, "Checking to see what evil deeds you riders are up to down here."

Lenia snorts. "Not me. I don't have time for evil deeds. Now …" She starts to consider who around her would, and shakes her head. "Nobody here, really. Not that they wouldn't try, but since we've only got a few riders right now, we're all working our asses off." Orralth lifts his head, turning it to gaze as much as he can at the rider perched precariously — yet comfortably — on his back. "Oh. That's right. Polite company and all that. Orralth says I shouldn't say such things." She rolls her eyes. "I'm Lenia, by the way." She lifts the viewer slightly, and slides down expertly, and gives him a nod of greeting. "Where do you hail from, then?" She gazes over at his shoulder to see if there's a telltale knot.

Kaskan crosses his arms, corded muscles thick beneath the short sleeves of his tunic as he automatically relaxes into a defensive pose. "Not a good idea," he spars back, the slight grin remaining to bely his posture. "You might need'em someday." His gaze is direct and cool blue intense as he watches her, concentration focused until Orralth's head bobs into the picture. A blink and slight jerk later Kaskan switches his observation to the dragon, not used to being so close to a blue. The interaction between rider and dragon is especially noted, his dark brows furrowing slightly as he notes details, uncertain as all hold-bred are about such mysterious-seeming things. The translation only makes his curiosity deepen. "Sounds like my Captain back home," he notes idly, remembering his own lengthy instructions. As she dismounts he unfolds his arms. "Well met, Lenia. I'm Kaskan from Southern Boll HOld."

"Southern Boll?" Lenia meets this pronouncement with a quirked eyebrow. "I heard they had an heir… heiress? Don't remember which. Anyway, they impressed in our clutch. Don't remember which one, either." Some help she is. "Was Lord Boll upset?" She does know a little bit about politics and the games people play, though she hates them with a passion. She prefers the sky. She reaches over to a pouch on the blue's leathers, and slides the far-viewer back in for now, then slides her open hand through her hair in a very masculine gesture. "You're a guard?" They're the only ones who usually have 'captains,' at least that Lenia can think of. "We pulled a guard from High Reaches, recently. He impressed, too. J'ret to a bronze." She does remember him, having Searched the man herself. Well, she and Orry, of course. "What brings you all the way across the big blue?"

Kaskan loses the grin at her questions, immediately wary of talking about politics. He nods once as arms cross again, expression more guarded but still not as stiff as his posture. "Andromeda," he supplies, and purposely rolls one shoulder. "I don't believe he took it well, no. S'why I'm here with his son, Jhorn. Boy's training at Landing. Still pretty young to be traveling so far so they sent me to watch over him." Another nod for her guess at his position followed by a curious quirk of square-ish jaw for the bits of another guard. The name is stowed away for future reference. With a small jerk of one hand toward the runners he finishes, "Jhorn wanted to see the Weyr today."

"Oh, right. Andi." Lenia gives a nod, and turns to Orralth, tilting her head a bit as she silently asks for clarification. "Andi and Hadath. Cute little green thing." Of course, at this age, they're all 'cute little' something, even the golds. "Jhon. Was he the one that was hanging around here earlier? One of her brothers was." She shrugs. "Anyway, who cares? Long as he doesn't burn the place down, then we're good." However, the jest doesn't have the pure ring of amusement it might have done before the eggs got smashed.

Kaskan remains close-lipped about the Bollian scion-turned-rider. He knows all about her too, from the holder side of things. He has instructions regarding her as well but those aren't part of his public agenda. Merely nodding politely he listens as she gets all feminine-gushy about baby dragons but when she mentions Jhorn he gives his head a shake, raven wisps dislodging about his ears. "No, this is Jhorn's first trip south. Mine too, for that matter." No comment on the burning apparently. That can't be good. Kaskan merely regards Lenia in silence for a moment. Not the chatty type, this fellow. A whuffle and stomp suddenly distract his attention, swinging that blue focus over one shoulder toward the runners. "Easy boy," he croons, tone immediately far softer than his speaking voice. "They won't eat you. Don't worry." A quick glance swings back toward Lenia, dark brows quirking for confirmation.

"No, Orry's hunted today, so he's good." Said blue dragon noses Lenia in the back, as if to curb her mouth. "Well? You did." She grins back, obviously engaged in a two-sided conversation, the one side of which can only be heard in bits and pieces. "You appear to be good with those horses, Kashkan." She tries the name out, and it makes her grin again for some reason. "Do you like it so far?" The South, that is.

Kaskan watches the interaction with that focused regard, as if he looks hard enough he can see the words passing between the two. "Just checking," he notes. "I heard once that they did that on occasion." Blue gaze narrows despite the compliment, uncertain, so he corrects in passing, "Ka/s/kan. Thanks. I like them - they're less complicated than people." Give'm sugar and they're happy. Couldn't get easier. As if sensing they are the topic of discussion the closest runner turns to look at the humans, whinneying nervously and shifting. Even in the dimmer light of evening their brown coats shine and silky mane's drift in the slightest breeze. The saddle and bridle that adorn each runner are in mint condition, well stitched and oiled. Kaskan clicks his tongue at the stallion.

"Oh, right. Kaskan." Lenia snorts at herself, and Orralth butts her from behind again, this time more lightly. More of a tease than a reprimand, it seems. "Yeah. People are a pain. Hard to figure out. I'm a Starsmith by training, and the stars are great. Don't need to talk to them, or ask them how their day was, or anything. You can just stare at 'em, and measure where they are, and count how many there are in one section… draw lines between them to make picutres…" She's waxing eloquent again, and a soft snort behind her cuts it off. "Oh, well. Y'know." She's not passionate about it at all. "You're one to talk," she says, rather abruptly, turning around and whacking the blue on his nose, lightly. "At least my stuff is visible. It's so much more hard work to dig through all sorts of crap to find…" She stops again, probably cut off by the dragon. "Well, anyway. Old argument." This is directed toward the man.

Kaskan loses the guarded expression as he is pelted with a barrage of starsmith details and witnesses the mental bi-play that follows. Seeing the Watchdragon from far below, even mostly on a daily basis, is nothing compared to up close and personal. And the banter! Though the dynamics of star-smithing seem boring he remembers his instructions at the last minute and intones, "That's fascinating, I'm sure." Pictures - ha! Chalk up bullet point #1 for the crazy rider list: pictures in the sky. Curious despite himself, he nudges with a wary eye on Orralth, "To find what?"

"Leftovers. Stuff left in the dirt by people who lived before. He likes to find old pieces of stone with writing or symbols on them, and wants to figure out why they're there or something." She rolls her eyes. "Our little weyr is already cluttered, and we haven't been here very long at all." Only a few months. She snorts. "Anyway. We argue about this all the time. Really, we're good. It's just he prefers to dig, and I prefer to stargaze. It's like the old argument, which is better, herdbeast or wherry."

Shadows etch doubt across his brow as Kaskan levels his blue regard on the rider again, slowly shifting to her dragon. "Seriously?" he can't help blurting. "Why would a dragon care about old junk like that?" Though he loves animals in general, his experience has been that they basically think to survive on a day-to-day basis not worry about ettiquette or ponder the past. Arms drop that crossed pose now as one hand rises to skim his shadowed jaw in an unconscious curious gesture. He can't help but add, just for the record though: "Herdbeast, of course."

"See, Orry?" Lenia grumbles good-naturedly to her dragon. "No, not really." The moment between the first utterance and the last must've contained some response from Orralth, as she reaches as far as she can around the blue's neck and hugs him tightly. "Dragons think about more than just their next meal, fortunately, or doing wing formations would be completely useless. Many of them have odd hobbies, or interests. There's a little blue who just hatched… What's his name? The one we searched in the laundry room with the barkeeper." She frowns, trying to remember. "L'ron. L'ron and Balkrith. Balkrith likes turnips. Loves 'em." Everybody's heard about this, so far, especially when the little blue cracked shell asking for them.

Kaskan barks a snorted laugh at that, features briefly crinkling in disbelief. "Ok, so dragons don't eat runners but they do eat turnips. Got it." Shaking his head slightly he grins at Lenia, over-long bangs slipping partially over one eye. "They'll never believe me back home." A whuffling stomp from behind makes him turn, attention shifting to the runners. The musky smell of straw and leather drifts past the trio on a random breeze. Kaskan reaches into his pocket again and pulls out the last of his treat supply, letting each runner lap up a few cubes from his hand. Once gone he brushes his hand on his tunic and moves back to Lenia and Orralth. "I don't suppose you could show me around a bit?" he asks, pulling a rarely seen charmer of a smile. "Just the basic tour would be fine. I have a feeling Jhorn is going to want to visit here often and I'd like to get the layout down."

Lenia nods. "I can do that. It's a bit different. We have like two of everything. Two big bowls, two hatching grounds… Well, only one baths, but …" Lenia gives her blue dragon one more squeeze, and nods toward the bowl. "This way, good sir. Now, here, this is the 'upper bowl…' " She starts explaining each place, probably with a bit more detail and anecdote than he really needs, but that's what you get when you ask a loquacious, uncultured ex-starsmith to give you a tour of Eastern Weyr.

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