Participants:
Date: | August 1, 2011 |
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IC Date: | Month: 7. Day: 11. Turn: 3. |
Location: | EW: Lakeshore |
Synopsis: | A thwarted practice session leads to Kaskan meeting two of the renegade riders. |
Rating: | PG |
Logger: | Kaskan |
CHARACTER DESCRIPTIONS:
Kaskan
Thick wisps of ebony fall in half-hazard lengths to shadow rugged features, over-long layers typically in disarray as they feather pale blue eyes, flare about his ears and tickle the nape of his neck. Full lips precede a square-ish jaw, which often bears a dusky shadow of its own. Scars from too many fights mar what would be a handsome visage, most notably one that splices across his left brow stopping just short of his eye. A slight hitch ends his left ear in an oddly curved shape, though it's usually hidden beneath his hair. Darkly intense, his bearing is defensive and watchful, wiry muscles having filled out to create a solid, sturdy frame. Not overly tall, he is a grounded, immovable rock - just as thickly guarded on the inside as he is thickly muscled on the outside - a deceptive impression that suits him well for the panther quick grace that's displayed when he's on the move. —20 turns.
P'sec
Hard muscle marks P'sec as a man of action though youth has long since fled. His face has endured a weathering by the elements, adding to the lines creasing his forehead and the fainter laughter-lines near his mouth. His hair has gone grey, kept short in a trim of military precision. Though often unsmiling, there is warmth in his brown eyes. He stands tall at nearly 6'2, lending him a physical presence that enhances the sense of sure authority in his bearing and demeanour.
His heavy wherhide flight jacket can be easily cast aside, leaving only a plain black short-sleeved shirt beneath, which fits snugly. His dark trousers are made of the same material as his jacket, though time has faded the black dye and softened the leather to suppleness. —45 turns.
D'lan
At six foot tall, D'lan has the broad shouldered, narrow-hipped build one would expect from a dragonrider that keeps himself in good shape. Dark brown hair, kept short offsets piercing blue eyes that always seem to silently mock. A strong jaw with a cleft chin that supports a mouth always quick to flash a killer smile, adds to the air of roguish charm this man carries with him.
Attire while crafted, is worn with the ease of one used to fine things and brimming with confidence. Supple brown leather pants are paired with a white open necked shirt and topped by a black leather flight jacket and boots. Simple, stylish, and well fitted though more often than not, devoid of any shoulder knot to designate either rank, or affiliation of Weyr. —32 turns.
ROOM DESCRIPTION:
[ Eastern Weyr: Lakeshore ]
With the brightest of contrasts, what once was a desolate, dry and empty scoop in the ground is now a full and luscious lake. Water laps against the shoreline in a gentle internal current, while in the very center, it seems almost eerily calm. A small sign hung on the highest bit of twine states 'LAKE HOPELESS' in forcibly fancy script, yet there doesn't seem to be any apparent reason for the title. Maybe one of the residents knows.
LOG:
Abydoth isn't the only dragon by the lake, but even as a small-sized bronze, he's the biggest. With traces of blood along his muzzle and front, the dragon must have come from a meal. His rider's knee-deep in the water in a pair of light-weight trousers that he doesn't mind getting wet, using a stiff-bristled brush to remove the blood and wash Abydoth clean. A bit of a smile, the precursor to a dry laugh, appears and stays on P'sec's face as he works, outward sign of a conversation only he can hear.
Kaskan is on the beach not too far away from the wading bronze and his rider. Dressed in short trousers and a loose, caramel shirt he isn't paying attention to those in the water but is instead concentrating on a long staff held in one hand. The opposite arm is bandaged and resting in a sling that hangs from his shoulder. The staff is turned in a wide circle, his wrist slowly twisting to smoothly change the motion into a figure eight. He repeats the pattern as he slowly turns the rest of his body until the staff is a blur of motion. Just when his motion quickens, however, he slips and the staff taps his opposite shoulder. A sharp flash of pain shoots down his arm, causing him to curse loudly and fling the staff away angrily. Still muttering under his breath he stomps down the beach a bit, bringing him closer to the dragon and rider.
As he goes about his own business, P'sec has been aware of Kaskan and his practice, with a glance every now and again. The swearing brings greater focus to that idle curiosity, and out of the corner of his eye he catches how the younger man throws his staff. He dips his brush into the water to wet the bristles and, straightening, lays his hand against his dragon's upper foreleg and lets it rest there. "Everything alright?" he can't help but wonder when Kaskan's path curves towards him. Abydoth too swings his head around to look, but while P'sec's face expresses a polite sort of friendliness, the dragon is inscrutable.
Kaskan looks up sharply, rugged features set in harsh lines. Seeing who spoke he registers the two looks that accompany the question and his lips set in a tight line as he huffs. Great. Witnesses. That makes it even worse. Not in a mood to provide a politely glossy answer he simply states, "No. But I'll live." Now that he's been distracted he can't help noting the sheer size of the bronze and gives the rider another look, curiosity helping to leech away anger.
As witnesses go, P'sec is a relatively benign one. He doesn't laugh or look patronising and slightly superior and pitying. However, his own substantial physical presence is enhanced all the more alongside his dragon, which to many might make him someone others would rather not seem foolish in front of. Speaking again, P'sec pitches his voice mildly. "Seemed okay to me." Catching the direction of Kaskan's gaze, the bronzerider casts a quick look up at the dragon above and beside him. "He's Abydoth." He introduces the bronze first as the more important of the pair. "I'm P'sec."
Kaskan nods at the introductions and lets more of his expression ease toward a more amiable setting. "Well met, Abydoth, P'sec," he returns, offering the traditional greeting. "I'm Kaskan." Slate blue gaze darting over the dragon's length he realizes a pair of such uniqueness would've been noticed by now. Watching out for his Blooded ward he'd taken careful note of as many faces as possible since their arrival. "Are you visiting?" he ventures.
"Well met yourself," the rider returns, casually polite. "No, we've been around for a bit. Not as long as many, but…" P'sec shrugs and lets the sentence fall off. "We spend a lot of time out," he then offers as a possible explanation for his unfamiliarity. "When we're not drilling or flying Fall. Not much one for crowds." Or with much need to mingle outside of his rider cohort, but he has the diplomacy not to mention that. "Been here long?"
D'lan has arrived.
Kaskan lets that information soak in, filing it away for later reference if needed. Combined with his own situation, it makes sense why he hadn't seen the rider before now. That fact eases his automatic distrust of stangers somewhat. Pulling a crooked smirk that flashes and is gone, he agrees with the bronzer, "I hear you there. Don't much like crowds myself either." Stance relaxing he steps closer, water lapping about his ankles. "Not too long, but a while." How's that for vague? But then he adds, "Split my time between here and Landing a lot."
Abydoth leaves off his regard and lets his head drop, blood-stained muzzle dipping beneath the surface of the water. P'sec moves to wash off the blood for the bronze, half-turned towards Kaskan so he can continue the conversation. "Been to Landing a couple times," he offers, giving a hard scrub. "Seems like a good place to be, if you like that sort of thing." He matches vague for vague, then asks a more precise question. "What do you do there? Or here, for that matter."
"Guard," Kaskan replies, hooking his free thumb in the front pocket of his trousers. As the water continues to erode the sand from around his feet he shifts for better footing. "Both places." The ghost of his smirk returns for the continually round-a-bout phrasing of that answer. Finding himself observing the great head of the bronze as it shades the water red, he asks, "You here to stay then, at the weyr?"
Among those moving to and from the lakeshore, is D'lan. Hands shoved in pockets and chewing on the end of a thin reed he appears to be entirely captivated by whatever it is the shapely redhead chattering away to him is saying. But appearances can be misleading for he is in fact only lending half an ear to the babble, blue eyes scanning ahead as if looking for something or someone. That is until his attention lands on P'sec. A quick comment goes to the redhead and then he's peeling away, angling his path toward the bronzerider, interest peaking and tightening onto the young man his former wingmate is in conversation with.
"The Weyr needs guards?" This gives P'sec pause, makes him lift his head to look at Kaskan with enquiry. "I know about the eggs, but — normally dragonriders can take care of themselves." Easy confidence accompanies his surprise. The water swirls clean, stirred by more dragons than just Abydoth, and the bronze lifts his dripping head to swing towards D'lan, his rider's glancing attention cuing his own. "Yeah, we're staying," P'sec says, looking towards D'lan as the other man approaches. "Hey."
"Not the weyr itself," Kaskan answers easily, though mention of the eggs raises dark brows. Before he can say anything further another rider approaches and he turns at P'sec's greeting to observe the newcomer. When it turns out to be yet another unfamiliar face the Bollian guard grows quiet again, caution automatically rising.
Shifting the reed in his mouth, D'lan curves a grin about it, "Old man." P'sec acknowledged in that cocky tease and then the brownrider's gaze shifts and lingers in frank assessment over Kaskan, the twinkle in blue eyes suggesting he's liking what he sees. "D'lan," he says taking a step forward plucking the reed from his mouth and tossing it aside to extend a hand, a wide smile filled with the charm of the devil attaching itself. Uh oh.
P'sec nods once, expression settling out of the open question as Kaskan clarifies. "Damage done last clutch," he says in his turn, taking in the way the guard looks at him. "Would've thought you'd heard." It's not quite a question about Kaskan's abilities, though wouldn't take much to turn it into one. The man splits his attention, answering D'lan without dismissing Kaskan. "Kid."
Kaskan tilts his head as P'sec explains, the reference falling into place with what he's heard. "Was afraid you meant something else had happened," he explainas. Then curiosity spreads a little thicker as Kaskan observes the way the two riders banter. Blue meets blue as he returns D'lan's regard, his partially obscurred by the fall of long-ish wayward bangs. As the man approaches Kaskan hesitates, automatically wary of such amiable forwardness. Can someone really be that peppy? Apparently so. Hitching his shoulder he adjusts the sling that supports his bandaged arm then reaches for the offered hand, securing it with a firm grip.
With his bright blue regard touching to Kaskan's bandaged arm, strong fingers close about the younger man's good hand in a firm grip that lacks the physical challenge some men seem to find necessary when shaking hands. There is however a querying hike of brow when no name is provided in return, "You got a name or shall I just call you, handsome?" Er what? Yeah, that's D'lan for you, living up to his reputation of hitting on anything that moves. Just then further out in the lake there's a watery 'THWUMP!' as a brown that had been circling lazily overhead belly-flops into the water sending a brace of ripples back toward the shoreline. P'sec's return flashes a wider easygoing grin into place, the exchange between bronzerider and brownrider obviously being a longstanding thing of theirs. "Have you seen our esteemed Lovely about?" That being Randi. If he's skidded on into a serious topic of conversation, the brownrider gives no hint of being aware of it, peppy being a guise he wears well.
"Think that's enough to have had happened." With his dry tone, P'sec is nearly humourous despite the grave subject. He starts to wade back to dry land as the other two exchange greetings, evidently finished in the water with Abydoth. "Hiding from the likes of you no doubt," he answers D'lan's question. In other words: no.
Kaskan returns the handshake in kind, wariness just starting to ebb when the rider throws him for a loop. "Uh, no…" he blurts, then with more control, "I mean, yes, it's Kaskan. Well met… D'lan." There, good manners satisfied. Releasing the man's hand he shoves his own completely into his pocket, no simple thumb-hitching this time. The sudden splash in the lake makes him jump, rugged features wincing as the quick movement jars his healing innards. He shifts his stance again as the ripples reach shore and sink his feet further in the sand.
Amusement paints across D'lan's features, deepening lines down the sides of a mouth that laughs easily and he flips P'sec the finger as he wades passed. "If you see her, tell her I've got that parcel she sent me to get. Wyn's been trying to rustle Kaseth up but he says she's ignoring him." More like Wyncrath as is his way, just hasn't been arsed enough to do more than send a slithering drift of mental contact before sliding away again. That self-same amusement lingers, quirking up into a smirk and dancing across his expression for the awkwardness displayed by Kaskan. There is however a flash of apology when his brown's indecorous entry into the lake startles the younger man but the brownrider's comment goes to the wince noted, "You should learn to run faster from irate husbands." Teasing assumption made for injuries borne. "I can help you train if you like?" Yeah no, really.
The gesture doesn't appear to faze P'sec, who has a short flash of his own amusement as he reads between the lines; he's spent enough time around the brownrider and his dragon to have a good idea that the fault lies with Wyncrath rather than Kaseth. "I'll let her know." Abydoth, at the water's edge, only needs take a step or two until he's clear of it, and then he lowers himself to allow his rider an easier time of climbing up without the aid of straps. Rolling his eyes at the mannerisms of his erstwhile wingmate, P'sec leaves Kaskan to cope alone. "He gets too much, just give him a kick," the man advises Kaskan as he mounts up, before Abydoth attains a suitable distance before taking to the sky.
Kaskan finally pieces the references together at mention of the gold but since he has nothing to say on the matter he simply watches the exchange. D'lan's gesture garners a sharp snort, after which dark brows are furrowing as Kaskan gives the brownrider a narrowed slate blue look. "I wish it were as simple as that," he says, irked by both the assumpion and offer. Immediately remembering he's supposed to be supporting the cover story he shrugs, adding, "Thanks anyway." P'sec's departure holds his attention briefly, a smirk rising for the man's advice regarding his fellow rider. Turning to take the few steps out of the shallows Kaskan bends to scoop up his thrown staff, remembering with a wave of chagrin how he lost his temper in the bronzerider's view. Standing it in the sand he looks to D'lan. "Just having a little trouble because of this," he says, hefting his sling-wrapped arm slightly.
As P'sec mounts up, D'lan flashes him a narrowed look for that comment but it soon slides off as his attention goes back to Kaskan, settling a quietly assessing look onto the dark-haired young man. "Life's not simple," the brownrider states in a rarely seen show of gravity though he accompanies the words with a broad-shouldered shrug as if anything of dark or solemn content sits ill with him. Keen regard tracking every movement of the other lifts and finds slate blue eyes whereupon a smile once again slips free as D'lan too makes his way out of the water. "The long staff is a two-handed affair," he states needlessly as he lounges against a nearby boulder, "If you go half staff you'll keep your eye in while you heal up." See? He can hold a proper conversation when he's of a mind to do so.
Kaskan has had too much weight on his shoulders for too long to imitate the older man's light-hearted outlook but he can sense it in the rider and still be affected by that quick smile and jovial attitude. The turn to matters of the staff ease his inner guard even faster. Twisting his wrist he spins the weapon once in a wide circle. "I know," he says, again sliding a look to the other man. Dark, rugged features and stubbled jaw mark him more akin with the shadows than bright daylight sun but too much time has passed and the Bollian's restlessness had reached a peak. He would've preferred the shadowy evening to practice where he was less likely to be seen but gave in to impatience. "I do use two hands - when I've got'em. Just not used to being hedged." Whipping the staff down as it comes round the circle he thumps it to the sand. Curiosity colors the glance that next finds the rider. "You're trained with the staff?"
Where D'lan often comes across as obtuse and ignorant of what's going on around him, he is in fact a highly perceptive man. It is this that has his gaze lingering over the younger man and filing away telltale signs even as a rueful smile appears. "A long time ago," the brownrider states with a faint frown on having trained with a staff. There's a jut of cleft chin toward the weapon that Kaskan wields with the air of one obviously well acquainted with it, "You know your stuff." Stated with open approval and then he's pushing away from the boulder, bright blue regard fitting to his brown and going distant a moment as it lumbers out of the lake and summarily flops down still dripping wet onto the sand nearby. "I still need to find Randi but if you're looking for a drink later," and there's that appreciative wash of attention over the banged up young man, "give me a shout." And while he doesn't push it, the invitation is there to be taken up or discarded.
Kaskan’s regard levels on the rider as well, judgmentally critiquing. The man’s build certainly lends itself to his claim, but then Kaskan had seen many a well-built guard in the Bollian ranks who couldn’t match him with the staff. Of course, the same could be true of Kaskan when it came to other weapons, but the staff was where his true skill lay. Saying nothing of his opinions though, Kaskan merely nods. No sense in challenging or offending the man. Besides, he realizes with a twinge of surprise, he rather likes the rider. As another of ‘those’ looks is sent his way though he stiffens slightly, still unused to the prevalence of such inclinations among weyrfolk. Drinks, however, are not something to be turned down lightly, so he accepts the general offer with a wan smile and tilt of his head, “I often am,” he quips with a slight lift of his sling-encased arm, “Better’an what the healer’s dish out nowadays.”