Who

M'noq, Ravaith

What

Because someone has to do it.

When

It is evening of the seventh day of the fourth month of the ninth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Ship with a View, Southern Weyr

OOC Date 27 Oct 2016 05:00

 

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Ship with a View

Sliding metal doors open onto a large area much like the inside of a ship, with two wallows on either side just the right size for two brown dragons. As you walk through, layered shelves with plants of various sizes and colours line the planked walls, though mostly green: jungle vines hang down with leaves brushing the similarly planked chestnut floor, the pots dotted here and there with exotic jungle blossoms. The furniture is simple and classic, with a dash of masculine elegance in matching wood trim. Round portholes open onto the fields, letting in fresh air and light, with secure covers and locks for threadfall. A main living area with an impressive hearth and comfortable couch (with knitting basket tucked in beside) has wide doorways that lead into other rooms, including a map room with a large captain's table, a master suite with its quilted fourposter bed and antique furniture, and a small galley. A collection of large seashells and maps decorate the walls and other shelving, folded knitted blankets available for cold Southern nights.


« Why is it our job to burn the ships? »

It isn't the first time Ravaith has asked the question, and as long as they're hunting the coasts, it won't be the last. Dragon memory is a tricky thing—usually difficult things slide off like rain from oilcloth. This is sticking like tar. "Because we have to find Renalde's little boy. And we're only burning the sails to get their attention, so they'll answer our questions. You remember that guy who attacked Keelie, right? We're looking for him."

« It is our job to burn Thread. And we have not yet found the ship that man sails. I am certain I would know him if we found him again. » There is a lick of flame along the mindlink, parchment combusting to char.

"Well, if you know where he is right now, let's go."

« We are making them afraid of us. All of them. »

"Yes, we are."

« That boy was afraid of me. » A few days ago, a cabin boy on one of the ships. He couldn't've been more than 10 Turns old.

"I know." Ravaith isn't suited to this sort of work.

« And Kelonth's rider attacked his father. » Blood. There had been a lot of blood.

"You do remember that several guys snuck up on all of us with knives, right? We're lucky we got away without injury."

« But the missing boy was not on that ship. Those men were not guilty, and still we attacked them. »

"I know, but no one was talking. They might have known something." It's hard for him to justify the actions they are taking.

This has gotten complicated. Ravaith clears the discussion like a worktable, sweeping clutter to the floor. « You have too many nightmares. Tomorrow you will tell the wingleader we will begin doing something else. »

"Please, Rav. Any day now, we're going to find Rylov. Please hold out until then."

The brown dragon nuzzles the puckered scar on his wingsail, not yet entirely healed. He is still favoring that wing, his stamina half what it should be, even though they have gone back to active duty. « Very well. Tomorrow we will find Rylov. And then you will tell the wingleader. »

"If we find Rylov, we won't have to burn any more—wait, do you have a guess where he might be?"

« Bring over the maps. I will show you where we will look. »

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