Who

Ravaith, Zynth

What

While Riders have early morning PT, Dragons go swimming. What better time to talk about work and acquiring small humans.

When

It is the early dawn of the twenty-first day of the fifth month of the thirteenth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Beach, Southern Weyr

OOC Date 06 Mar 2018 07:00

 

ravaith_default.jpg zynth_default.jpg

« Yet if you twine tails, so will your lifemate. That can improve their mood. »



Beach

An eerie mirror, the glass-quiet Sea of Azov: the clear waters stretch along the dark-pebbled shores, and along this narrow beach. Here the faintest lap of waves belies the calm beyond; here the rocks have been ground down into finest, softest sand - those observant would mark upon the similarity between it and the sands of the hatching grounds. The soft sand soaks up summer sunlight as a sponge; painfully hot during the warmer months, it is only truly pleasant at wintertime. Rocks rise to east and west, lichen-limned and green against the abyssal darkness of stone.


The early dawn is dark still and has the beach mostly empty, the waves lap docilely against the sand, a very different creature from the storm of only a few weeks ago. Though this time of day has the beach mostly empty, the smooth expanse of sand is interrupted by a splash of ultra-blue. Zynth is wet, wings up and open to the cool night-breeze. His thin frame shifts up, slinking out toward the water, then wings will pull down, a single stroke upward that takes the little dragon into the air. He turns, twisting and tucking those opaque wings to his body, aimed toward the ocean now, speeding down and crashing into the surf with a splash. There is no words in the play, no noise from the blue as he surfaces again, wings opening to cup the water and feel the movement. The narrow head turns out to the sea, studying the horizon, waiting for the coming sun.

What do dragons do when their riders wake them up early and go to PT? They go swimming, apparently. In the pre-dawn morning, Ravaith glides silently over the beach, backwinging to land lightly in the shallows with a soft splash. He lifts his muzzle to watch the blue's early morning play for a moment, then he slides into deeper water, flattening himself so he floats just on the water's surface.

At first there is no aknowlagement of the other Dragon, but as the deeper waters allow Zynth to hold himself up in a half-float, icy thoughts reach put to Ravaith, « Good Morning. » he shifts in the water, tail flicking up and sending little droplets toward the bigger Dragon, « Have you and yours found the recent influx of holders to be well? Will they be returning to thier homes soon? » Though the words are frosty, they are polite, genuinely curious if the wingleader had heard how long the weyr was to support the storms refugees.

The brown's thoughts unfurl like a map, warm sepia tones and jewel-colored inks plotting out a chart of as much as the dragon cares to know. « They will stay as long as necessary, until their homes are repaired. At least most work to support their stay. » Ravaith does not seem to be bothered by Zynth's frostiness.

The blues snow and cold is careful, not falling onto the warmth of Ravaith's thoughts, but swirling around and through them, « There are few interesting among them. » Zynth would like them to all go home now, « We could send them to Igen for thier clutch. Or Ista to be closer to a different sea. » Refugees could be someone else's problem, right?
« Yet if you send them away, who will rebuild their homes? » Ravaith asks reasonably. « And who would live here once the homes are rebuilt? Igen is too dry. It makes me itch. » All of the displaced residents are already on his mental map, and what would he do with them if they all started relocating elsewhere?

« We are already helping rebuild thier homes. They can make homes somewhere else just as well. » Still, some things Zynth cannot argue with. His wings fold and unfold, letting the water around him slosh, « Igen is too dry. They can like Ista. » Zynth might not have a mental map, but the frozen wasteland in his mind is far too full of empty to have room for the non-collected humans in his life.

« I like Ista. » Ravaith muses, the texture of his mental map turning to warm, black sand. « However, the North is too crowded. These holders are ours. If they go North, who would send us things? » Ravaith's map of the north is crowded already.

Zynth will not reply right away, studying the mental map. « We can be anywhere in the world in the matter of seconds. Why do we need holders close to get the things we need? » Snow will fall on this sand, melting instantly, but adding a glittering sheen of wet on the black grains.

On Ravaith's mental map, the Holds and Weyrs in the north shine with distinct colors, showing regions and relationships. « The holders will give to the dragons closest to them. If we want them to give us nice things, we have to keep them close. » He lifts his head, dripping, out of the water. « Why would you want to get rid of our holders? »

The blue shifts slightly. He does not understand how the brown decides friend or foe, the map means little to nothing to him, but he will look regardless. « They make mine unhappy. He does not like them here. They are too familiar and he does not wish to slip and fall back into their world. » The blue's mind flickers images of a particular set of holders, female mostly with children, all with hair as bright red as Zynth's rider. « This, and I do not find them interesting. »

« How would he fall back into their world? He belongs to you. To us. » The Weyr, the dragons. « If he does not wish to be with them, he simply should not. » It is all very simple to Ravaith. « You do not like the small ones either? Sometimes those can be interesting. »

« Mine is not very good at Self Control. » Though, Ravaith is right. This is what Zynth was for. The blue snorts at the small ones, « The human hatchlings are not interesting. They are inconvenient, too high pitched and in the way.»
« Some of the small ones are more interesting than others. » Ravaith considers, thoughts like leafing through pages of parchment. « Perhaps, if yours has some. Also, they help scrub. » The brown lowers himself into the water again, looking like he would appreciate small hands to scrub right about now.

« I do not like the small ones. » Though the utility of small hands for scrubbing will give the blue pause. Perhaps the little humans could be useful. Maybe. If they didn't speak. Or think. The blue's wings flex in the water once more, then he starts back toward the shore, shaking as he clears the waves, « Perhaps one could acquire some small ones for scrubbing and return them later. »

« Usually the small ones are attached to a large one. So have yours find one that he likes. The small ones really like scrubbing. » His tone is wistful, as he imagines a couple of pairs of small hands in particular.

« Awe, yes, he can acquire some. » Though, getting one's rider to locate and barrow some children might be a good idea, riders at PT right now does limit this. « Perhaps we could find some? » This early in the morning?

Ravaith doesn't look like he's interested in moving anytime soon. « They are probably sleeping. Or eating. Nadeeth's has a couple, and they only scrub later in the day. No, you may not borrow them. » The brown is just a bit protective.

« Awe. » Zynth is pretty sure he could get a little person here if he really tried, but it is far too early in the day for that and he didn't want to attract attention to himself as a human hatchling-thief. « Yes, perhaps I can have mine have some then. »

« Yes, if they are attached to yours, they seem easier to keep around. As you might expect, they come from flights. » The brown tilts his head to look at Zynth. « Do you chase often enough? » Ravaith's knowledge of this is incomplete… or rather, only as complete as a dragon's perspective needs to be.

« Flights are a waste of time and energy. More so than most for me. Greens do not clutch. There is no point in chasing. » Zynth too has a limited understanding of flights, though it has likely been explained to him, the memory of a blue is only so good. The Dragon shakes himself again, retreating further up on the beach and settling down with his wings open to air, « I do not chase often. Only for the special ones. »

« Yet if you twine tails, so will your lifemate. That can improve their mood. » Ravaith isn't a dragon who chases often, but when he does, he means it. « You also said you wished your lifemate to get some of the young ones. They do not worry about the color, green or gold. »

Zynth considers this, his snowy mindscape swirls and twists around these ideas. Was improving his bonded's mood worth all the effort and frustration of a flight? Perhaps. Or perhaps not. « We shall see. Young ones would be nice. But one would have to wait before they are of use. » Waiting, Zynth could do. If his memory would hold out on the goal of getting little humans is debatable

Ravaith pulls himself from the water and up onto the sand. He gives himself a shake and snaps his wings out, water droplets flying. He looks towards the sunrise, where Rukbat is lightening the sky. « There is much to do while one waits. Still we hunt and bathe and nap in the sun. We fly Thread. »

« Waiting and doing. There is a fine line between these things. » Though the blue watches as Ravaith leaves the waters, he does not stand himself. « But what of today? What does your today look like? »

Ravaith carefully checks over his wings, then settles on the beach in a neat curl. « Our day always has waiting and doing. Talking and listening. Sometimes… too much. » A troubled, vague memory of tense arguments, feeling unsettled. Then with a breath, that is swept away. « I hope we will map.»

Zynth's cool washes over the memory, not touching it fully, but acknowledging and agreeing. This was a familiar thing. « Perhaps you could find new things to put in your days. Perhaps you could look about and find places and things to do. » Zynth's independence might leave his rider stranded occasionally, but he was never bored for long. « Mapping. Mine likes mapping too. I like the seeing of things. The seeing and admiring. »

« New things… it is enough to find out what is beyond the next curve of the coastline. » Ravaith's thoughts unfurl like a map, following the erratic curve of ink-drawn lines. « We see and record, and then we know what is there. And often we find better places to be than here. But… sometimes there are other priorities. »

Zynth's ice touches these thoughts, softening the ink, but not quite touching the hide so as not to harm it. « The discovery and recording of things is great.Those who know the lay of the land will always have the upper hand. » Though, admittedly, the other priorities might be of more interest to Zynth often.

« You and yours should come on our next mapping trip. Perhaps mine is alone too much. » Ravaith extends the invitation, even if the riders will have to be the ones to work everything out. Then, he hears another and looks toward the Weyr. « I am needed now. The swim was good. »

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