Who

Baezyl, Raktraeth

What

Baezyl's trying to do his whole SCIENCE thing, but turns out Raktraeth inherited some snacking habits from his father.

When

It is sunset of the seventh day of the first month of the thirteenth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Igen Weyr - Standing Stones

OOC Date 20 Jan 2018 06:00

 

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"I thought we had a deal?"


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Standing Stones

It is perhaps a pity that the Standing Stones lie in quiet isolation, half-forgotten in the Weyr's easternmost corner. Or perhaps it is inevitable: the grandiose beauty of these red rocks is ill-suited to Igen's coarse grit, and maybe only their loneliness allows them to survive unmarred. Whatever the reason, it cannot be denied that the Standing Stones, a lonely jumble of ancient boulders, have a glory about them. The tumbled field of pillars and arches has been shaped by eons of wind and water into strange shapes, twisted and rutted. The going is treacherous: only the Weyr's half-feral herd of caprines navigates the terrain with any ease. To the northwest, the lakeshore glimmers; to the east, rough-carved steps lead towards another ancient pile of rocks - though the Star Stones are less haphazardly placed than their Standing cousins.
It is the sixty-seventh day of Winter and 32 degrees. It is a bright, sunny day.


It is one of those glorious sunsets that only occur in the desert winter (or window apparently). The sky painted in brilliant oranges and reds as those who are good and worthy think about heading home to warm meals and even warmer beds. Which is the PERFECT time for a certain healer of peculiar enthusiasms to scarper his way towards the standing stones and his herd of increasingly less feral caprines. "Oi you hairy lot!" He yells, grinning at the echo of voice and rattling pail. "Dindins!" And like turnover ghosts they come, glowing phalluses that eventually resolve themselves into hangry goats in the dim crepuscular light. Collars are checked by the eerie glow of his second bucket. The one he doesn't rattle. "Hello! Ready to get down to some work?"

Dindins! Why, that's an idea that Raktraeth can fully get behind. Too bad he's under very strict orders not nab another porcine or wherry or herdbeast or caprine from the pens this seven. But the behemoth brown spies with his not-so-little eye something that is tasty and possibly a loophole. High above the dragon circles. It wouldn't do to let his prey catch wind before he's picked out just the right one. Should he probably be worried that his twilight snack is glowing? Probably, but it might just be a new and exciting flavoring! With well practiced speed, Raktraeth selects his target and nearly drops down onto one of the straggling goats heading towards Baezyl with a **phoomft* as he lands, sand going everywhere, but the goat is neatly pinned under his talons. Baezyl didn't need this one, right?

Baezyl needs ALL OF THEM. Even as the rest of the flock disperse with the aclarity of their very sudden recollection of feral instincts insist is proper. Hint: It's faster than they can urinate, so there are all kinds of trails leading away from the rocks. "You!" The healer points a finger. "I was assured that ALL of the dragons were informed that the glowing beasts were not to be eaten. Now you spit out Billy right this instant!" Baezyl has got his hands on his hips and his square toed fancy shoes tapping, as he awaits the dragon to return his important data to him RIGHT now. "You can have him back when I'm done!"

Like father, like son. No Billy is safe in Igen! At least not if those Billys have four hooves and aren't human. Raktraeth's eyes whirl calmly as he starts back at the apparently angry healer, trying to give off an area of pseudo-innocence despite being caught red-clawed. Him? No, no. You must mean some other dragon. He looks between Baezyl and what was going to be his snack, lifting his foot to nudge the goat towards the healer-man. Since Trae is more interested in the eating than the hunting, he's most efficient in his methods, unlike some of his clutchsibs. That goat stood very little chance and that neck is definitely broken. Note: Blue Glow does not help with broken necks.

Baezyl huffs the huff of a long suffering healer, both relieved he doesn't have to go all Jonah on this big brown, and resigned because of course his goat is dead. "There now, that wasn't so hard was it?" Yep, Baezyl is that type, one who assumes that all creatures great and small love hearing the sound of his voice. But he's not going to push it for all that he is giving the appearance of confidence. With a quickness Jhothulos would appreciate he drags his glowing bucket over. "Just let me measure the rate of healing, and he's all yours." Baezyl reiterates that promise as he retrieves his notes and something to write with. Death has long been his companion, so there is no squemishness as he manipulates the still warm corpse to find those scrapes he treated only the day before. "I must say, you picked well. This guy was a bit of an asshole." A square tip nudges the carcass. "Fat too." His observations are made as quickly and thoroughly as possible, but Raktraeth's dindins are probably delayed more than he would like.

Raktraeth can also huff and with those much bigger dragon lungs, stirs up more of the sand around them, along with the distinct scent of firestone. But the dragon will momentarily surrender his dinner, practically licking his chops as he hovers his head over Baezyl's poking and prodding. Are you dooooone yet? How about now? Although he'd probably be glad to note that the dinner he's about to eat doesn't really have any signs of infection on those scrapes.

If Baezyl were less citified, he'd have the skills to deal with a slobbery face all up in his business. But he is woefully cosmopolitan, and has only his words… "Look! Is that a glowing gold dragon?" He points over towards the other side of the lake. "And I believe she is blooding some beef. Go there!" Because he's not quite done yet thanks. "I bet you're a hit with all the lady dragons." Baezyl confides, "Big strong intelligent fellow like yourself." Even as he talks he is checking over his catalogue of injuries and noting any differences. It even looks like he's gone to the trouble of making a generic goat silhouette so he can tag all this information forensically!

Does Raktraeth really look like a fool? Igen's only got two queens and he can definitely keep track of when they are seeming likely to rise. Good thing Baezyl isn't a trader 'cause he's totally not selling that ruse. The big, strong, intelligent brown is just going to keep up his hovering. Maybe even a little bit of dragon drool dropping onto those fancy, fancy clothes the healer's so fond over. While the healer's distracted trying to make the silhouette of the goat's head, he's just trying to not so sneakily nibble on that rear left hoof. Just a little bite won't be noticed, right?

"HEY!" Baezyl notices pretty quickly, mostly because he is not blind. "Hey! HEY!" Shocked is what he is, even as he fans his notes and makes shoo'ing noises. THIS IS HOW YOU ANIMAL RIGHT? "I thought we had a deal?" Is the immediate cajoling query once he's gotten over his shock. He is writing as fast as he can! "Who are you? Or more importantly, who is your rider?" Because this is a healer who is going to have very strong words with the rider when all is said and done. "A moment's paitence could see your healing time halved. But I suppose you don't care about things like that do you?" Natter, natter, natter, scribble, scribble, scribble.

Too bad Baezyl hasn't realized despite living in a Weyr for over a turn that dragons aren't animals! Raktraeth won't make any more moves on the goat for now. He'll just nomnomnom on the hoof. At least the little tidbit can tide him over for a little bit longer. And being the very smart dragon that his is, Raktraeth is going to very conveniently chose not to provide his name. Or that of his rider. Doji would definitely have LOTS of words to say about his ruining the healing experiments. How many browns are there in a Weyr? Like 75? Is Baezyl gonna track every brownrider down to report the anonymous brown goat nommer?

Baezyl could track down every single brownrider… Oooor he could just find the gossip-iest aunty and tell a tale along the lines of 'Which brown eats inappropriate animals on a regular basis?" Of course the answer is going to vary, and possibly be wrong. But on top of this delightful little experiment he still has his usual journeyman duties. Oooh and apprentices! He has that resource he can put to the task, never underestimate a healer! They're used to thinking outside the box. Eventually though, even Baezyl has to concede he's fucked around enough. "Alright then. I formally gift this animal to… You know if you gave me your name, I could probably do this properly." Even if his first deception didn't work, there is always another angle.

Raktraeth can be a generous fellow when he feels like it… and since Baezyl's being nice enough to finally hand over the goat, the brown's going to make quick work of starting to snack on the goat properly. Few more minutes and there will be very little evidence left of poor billy aside from the healer's notes. One of the perks of telepathy though is it means talking with your mouthful is a-ok! A path emerges through a darkened evergreen forest, with trees all twisted and creepy. Is there even some Spanish moss draping off of some of those boughs? Look, he doesn't really do spooky as well as his father, but he's trying here. « My name's Lukoith. Make sure to tell my rider Divale that you did gift this to me. » And those gossipying aunties will TOTALLY confirm that the older brown has an affinity for snacking on inappropriate animals. It's the perfect crime!

"A-ha!" Baezyl's cry of triumph bounces off the rocks, seemingly undisturbed by the creepy mental forest that is suddenly in his mind. Not gifted with a bond or much in the way of active telepathy it is probably for the best that the communication is stunted from his end. "You can be sure I will have a chat to Divale…" He knows the name, even as his eyes narrow. It is over in a moment though, because Baezyl doesn't really pay that close attention to dragons, they're not people. Baezyl isn't really even all that fussed about the carnage of dragon-snacking as his fancy boot starts tap-tap-tapping again. "Next goat you get from the pens you hear Lukioth!" A finger comes up to waggle. "This is a very important experiment you are eating. Or you're eating plague. That hasn't been determined yet."

« I'll take my chances. » On free ranging dinner? Or possibly eating the plague? Who knows. In a few more bites, Raktraeth has finished consuming the goat. See, that didn't take that long at all. As suddenly as he arrived, the dragon will take himself off again. Maybe the rest of Baezyl's goats didn't actually run too far and he'll be able to herd them up before too long.

Nup, Baezyl has already expended more effort in this endevour than originally intended. He's just going to gather his buckets and head back to civilisation. The inadvertant rattling of the food pail drawing forth one caprine braver than the others. "You better stick with me kid!" Baezyl informs his spotty new friend, one with the happy red collar of the overly scraped. "There's a dragon going around eating everyone!" To which the half-grown, half-tame goat blinks and starts gently nibbling upon the flap of the healers coat. "I don't think this one is your color." And the conversation continues as Baezyl too makes his way homewards, a jaunty wee penis glowing by his side.

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