==== September 22, 2013
==== Nadeeth, Kehemath
==== Kehemath destroys stuff, Nadeeth encourages.

Who Nadeeth, Kehemath
What Kehemath destroys stuff, Nadeeth encourages.
When There is 1 turn 2 months and 0 days until the 12th pass.
Where Lake Shore


Lake Shore
Sprawled out beyond the Weyr proper's hustling activity and ambling roads, the cool, blue paradise of the Weyr lake promises escape from the oppressive hammer of Igen summer's cruel climes; the asymmetrical, sandy white shores hook delicately around the deceptively still waters running deep and sure, greedy peninsulas reaching white fingers stretching in crooked lines towards its center. A sturdy shack, weather-beaten and brown as cured leather, resides in isolated splendor upon one such finger, screened shelving offering a variety of brushes and fragrant oils housed in colorful tureens. Out beyond a small and dusty paddock ringed by a white fence, a long rocky pier stabs out into the lake, providing a panoramic view of the Weyr itself, while the southern shores provide varied shrubs and grassed for the massed herds in their pens.

Nadeeth stretches out to her friend, ribbons of fluttering yellow today dancing on the wind. The touch is light and full of good cheer. It seeks out the other mind simply for the enjoyment of the touch. »

Nadeeth senses Kehemath is paws deep in sand and mud, digging yet another hole at the lake. Her thoughts are restless, energy prowling through her mind and seeking an outlet. An outlet which is currently digging. Lots and lots of digging.

Nadeeth gives a sense of flight as she lifts herself from her perch and makes the short flight out to the lake. Curiosity pours from her thoughts as she examines the holes at the lake. « Why? » is her simple thought. »

Nadeeth senses Kehemath pauses in her digging long enough to watch her friend arrive. « Why not? » Then she's back to it with a single minded obsession. Talons rip through soft sand and mud, fling it behind her to a growing pile. The pleasure of seeking, of digging, of /moving/ and pulling dirt, squishy between her fingers and against her feet. It is /fun/.

Nadeeth paces around the squishy mud, dainty as a lady. « Dirty.» There is no judgement there in the flurry of yellow ribbons that is wrapped around Nadeeth's thought. « Why not fly instead? » »

Nadeeth senses Kehemath considers that for a moment, and then sends the image of her rider, gravid, on a couch. « I must stay near, » she says, soft and serious before she resumes. But, at least, she is careful not to fling mud at her dainty friend.

Nadeeth splits her attention a moment, passing on the image to someone else, then focuses back on the green. She considers the hole as she still paces, helping keep herself clean by simply not getting too close. « Does it help? » »

Nadeeth senses Kehemath's reply is swift, a feral amusement in her tone. « It does. It…moves things. » The sensation of destruction and then rebuilding. Of something /safe/ to tear into.

Nadeeth considers this for a moment. Then she conjures up images, suggestions of things it might be fun to break. Or something. Maybe just chew on a little? There's that really brightly coloured stall in the selling-place that sells pretty ribbons, and that pole in the training yard that she has to avoid each time she lands. »

Nadeeth senses Kehemath twitches, her thoughts shifting from the holes to those other /things/. Oooooh. Distraction. Pretty things. And that pole…ooooh. There's a shift in her mind, a touching with her rider, and then a subtle jerk. Like a yank on a leash. A huff. And then Kehemath shakes herself. « This will do for now, » she mutters, returning to her digging.

Nadeeth stalks just a bit closer, claws sinking in the mud next to the hole. One talon pushes a bit of the mud back into the ever growing ditch. More suggestions are shared, that skybroom tree that blocks the view from her ledge to the star stones, and what about that really big boulder that makes the path in the central bowl have to go all crooked? « Both cleaner. » »

Nadeeth senses Kehemath considers the skybroom tree. That wouldn't be missed, right? A tree in the weyr…surely they want that greenery gone. She'd be /helping/. Yes. Right? Then she's kicking into the sky, eagerly - obsessively - seeking that skybroom tree. « Where? » DIE, TREE, DIE.

Nadeeth pushes just a bit more mud into the hole, then lifts off to drift after her friend. There are more than overtones of laugher in colorful fuzzballs that fill her sending. The skybrom tree is about a quartermile away from the weyr, standing just above man's height. It clearly has seen better days, starved bfor water in the deep desert. »

Nadeeth senses Kehemath attacks it. Talons, claws, teeth, all rend the poor tree as she wrestles with it. Roots sink deep though, and the green has to change tactics. Instead of pulling and chewing, she sets to /digging/. A task she excels at, no doubt, clumps of dirt flying.

Nadeeth doesn't land next to her friend who is attacking the tree, but stays aloft, carving at the air as she watches her large friend. « Do not be hurt. » There is some concern there now at the ferocity in which the poor tree is hurt. »

Nadeeth senses Kehemath is killing the tree. She will not be hurt, she's…clearly done this before. Ahem. Digging around the roots she takes the trunk in her mouth and /hauls/, pulling with all her strength until it's uprooted. Then with a growl and huff of satisfaction she flops down onto her belly, one paw over it and one beneath, and starts to gnaw off the branches.

Nadeeth lands and picks her way forward, batting at one of the broken off limbs. It rolls till it bumps against the larger green. « Taste good? » curiosity all sorts of abounding tonight. »

Nadeeth senses Kehemath stops chewing long enough to pull back from wild Kehemath to a Kehemath that's able to form coherent sentences. « You don't eat it. You just chew it. It /feels/ good. » Taste doesn't matter when you're destroying things.

Nadeeth picks up the stick in her mouth and chews for just a second, letting it drop after just a moment. « Splinters. » There is clear disagreement that it feels good at all in the little green's mind. Instead she shares images of particuarly plump runner beasts. »

Nadeeth senses Kehemath thinks « You have to be careful of the splinters. This is resistance. You have to /work/ for it. »

Nadeeth nudges the stick again, sending it rolling away from her, then pouncing after it again. The images she sends as she chases her stick are reminisent of what she considers to be work. There are flashes of whirlwind as seen from behind, diving and rolling in the air, strainning to keep up with some of the larger dragons. The tenseness of wings worked overhard and slipping into sleep the moment talons settle onto a stone ledge. »

Nadeeth senses Kehemath sighs, pausing in her chewing to look wistfully at those images. « I miss it, » she admits softly. Privately, to the other green.

Nadeeth leaves her stick to go nuzzle her friend gently. « You will be back! » It's almost childlike in her encouragement. « We fly together again. » »

Nadeeth senses Kehemath rumbles softly. « Not to Whirlwind. Mine has chosen Valiuth's over the wing. We will not fly together in the same wing again, Nadeeth. »

Nadeeth settles on her haunches, watching the green rumble. The fuzzballs slowly fade, replaced with ribbons twiing themselves into confused knots. « But together we are the best. » »

Nadeeth senses Kehemath pauses in her chewing and gnawing to focus on the mental link, gently tries to untangle those knots. « We are, » she agrees quietly. « But mine had to choose…» And she shares the mental image Sienna focused on for so long. The diverging paths. To the left, W'rin, warm, welcoming, loving. To the right, Whirlwind, swirling, dipping, diving. The /best/. And in the center, a swaddled child. It holds for a moment before shifting to W'rin. « She chose him. And we are teaching. We can not teach and be in Whirlwind. She can not be with Valiuth's and be in Whirlwind. »

Nadeeth snorts at this. « They do not choose best. » This thought it sent but carefully capped to allow no hint of it to bleed through to her lifemate. « Perhaps we will go back. » There is no particular unhappiness in that thought, as there are fond memories shared of Sandblast also. »

Nadeeth senses Kehemath thinks « Whirlwind is best. Whirlwind is where you should be. We will not be in Sandblast either. We /teach/. We will be with the weyrlings. »

Nadeeth doesn't seem to like this idea at all, but her resistance only lasts for a moment. Finally she gives, allowing the tangles in her mind to relax and unknot. « For always? But what of… » And she sends the image, blurry, indistinct, shared many times of the thread. »

Nadeeth senses Kehemath gives her friend an affectionate nuzzle. « For now. » She does not know 'always'. When the thread images fall, Kehemath sends images that she has made her rider think up, because she had the same questions. Kehemath and Sienna flying with the Weyrlings' wings, helping with injuries, doing firestone runs, shoveling it into bags and taking it to the fighting wings. Not fighting. Supporting.

Nadeeth firmly rejects this sending, rending the image down the middle. « You are /fierce/. » She doesn't have the words for 'babysitter' but there are distinct overtones in her objection of her large friend being relegated to such work. »

Nadeeth senses Kehemath mentally sighs, but she does not protest when the image is torn and falls. « It is what mine wants to do. For now. We serve where the weyr wishes us to serve. We do not know what will happen when these weyrlings graduate. We might be in a fighting wing. Or not. We do not know. »

Nadeeth sends again, « They do not choose best. » The small green is very agitated now, and paces aroud the large green, her wings flipping as she goes. « Perhaps things will change. Maybe they will choose best. We ought to fly together. » »

Nadeeth senses Kehemath pushes to her feet to watch her friend pace. « It could change. Everything could change, » she whispers, her voice melodic and distant.

Nadeeth paces a few steps more before her head lifts to peer back towards the weyr. « He wishes me back. I go. We fly together, soon.» There is a promise in those words. She flips herself up into the air leaving behind that promise. »

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