The Ruination of Plans - Aimry/Faux

[stolenhart]

It is as if she has been replaced by something not herself, Knymawth was saying as he followed his rider from the Hatching Sands to the beach. The bronze had just traded off with the ex-Weyrleader's dragon so he could be scrubbed. Those two bronzes were the only two that Vandyith listened to at all. "The thing is, Gimna is alive and semi-conscious, Vandyith should be talking to us. Maybe not coherently but still talking", T'ran replied, setting the bucket of oil down on a nearby boulder.

The large bronze continued into the water, giving a loud whistle that conjured a whole fair of flitts, both wild and tame. The wild flitts loved to help out with the dragons, amply rewarded as they were by the humans, and the tame ones would not allow their wild cousins any amount of fun without them. I cannot say. She is almost like these little ones, images only, the bronze submerged himself for a moment before resurfacing. Immediatly the flitts began to scrub him. }There has to be something. I do not believe Gimna will die like this, all quiet and hush{, he answered, now that the bronze was out of ear shot.

On the beach T'ran removed his shirt and boots, rolling his pants up to his knees in an effort to at least keep them dry. His back and chest were tanned a bronze that nearly matched his dragon, though white scars criss crossed all over him. They will not die, Knymawth replied firmly, sending an arc of water towards his rider. }Fine, they will not die{, T'ran agreed, waiting on the beach for his dragon to come out.

[fauxfox]

While the implication that he had something… ‘tactically beneficial’ in mind for Southern’s Weyrwoman had been clear when they’d met with Hallek months ago, the specifics of the Lord Overholder’s plan remained unknown. Shards, Aimry wasn’t even sure if Gimna’s current absence was related in the slightest, but he was jaded enough to suspect the worst, and pragmatic enough that he didn’t believe in coincidences. He was also sufficiently smart to keep such suspicions to himself, even from Josef. Being an informant was one thing, but holding back details that could provide a clue to the Goldriders condition? That was asking for a whole different world of trouble, and so Aimry didn’t dig any further, and for once in his short life was… tolerant (though not content) to be left ignorant on the matter. As long as he didn’t know anything for certain, he couldn’t be accused of concealing the truth.

He’d come to discover that the beach was a soothing kind of get-away from the strain of life at the Weyr, even if it was occasionally marred by mounds of sunning, resting dragons. The massive beasts were more of an obstacle than the boulders were, and while Aimry didn’t feel quite as put off by their company as he might have been by their riders, since none of the telepathic mountains of hide and wing would stoop to talking with a mere apprentice, it was still fairly awkward to try and relax in their vicinity. Mercifully he’d found a corner of the beach that was empty of dragon or rider, with the added advantage of a clump of palm trees to offer shade from the scorching sun. Northern skin was no friend of Rukbat. Reclined on the cooled sand under the trees, halfway up the beach, he was on the cusp of being lulled into a doze by the natural melody of waves lapping the beach when human vocals breached his eardrums.

Opening one eye he observed the bronze and his rider wander down to the waterfront about a dragonlength from where he lay silent, feeling the heavy movement of the dragon through the sand and the way that the palm fronds shuddered. His eyesight was not nearly as good as his hearing, and the exact identity of the rider eluded him, but he was content to watch since moving would draw attention to himself. He was amused to see the way the firelizards helped, having heard of but never witnessed the cooperative spectacle before, vaguely wondering how none of the tiny critters got squashed or drowned under their giant cousin’s bulk. Aimry was no fan of company most of the time, but it was pleasant to people-watch every once in a while and see things uninhibited by conversational facades. At least until he was discovered, anyway.

[stolenhart]

He decided it was going to be a fairly long wait, Knymawth didn't want a short scrub from the flitts and despite the two dozen or so scrubbing him, it would take awhile before he came out. Having reached that conclusion, T'ran started looking around for shade to sit under and found to his dismay, the nearest shade was already taken. Still it was too hot to sit out here and bake his brains away, whoever it was would have to share.

Where are you going?, Knymawth asked, raising his head out of the ocean like some sea serpent. }Just over there under the trees{, T'ran pointed, heading that way. By the young man? Very well, I am nearly done though, the bronze replied, spreading his wings so the flitts could get the hard to reach spots. With his wings spread and the water bouncing over his shiny hide, Knymawth made a very handsome picture indeed.

T'ran made his way slowly across the sand, the near burning feel of it hot on his feet. Finally he made it under the shade and sighed. Turning to the young man, his new Harper Apprentice by the look of things, he settled himself down by a tree and reclined in the cool sand. "Good day", he began. The only thing he had learned about the new Weyr Harpers was that they were from the North, a common occurence for Harpers who were known for their neutrality in the war. "How do you find the South?", he asked, having never had a pleasant conversation with anyone from the North.

[fauxfox]

When both the dragon’s head and the rider’s finger pointed in his direction Aimry knew he was discovered. Sighing slightly for the end of his peaceful respite he stayed where he was, lacking the inclination or the energy to return to the weyr while he had these blissful minutes to waste. Josef was busy teaching a class full of weyrbrats the proper protocols of reading and writing, which considering his apprentices continual issues on the matter meant he was better absent than trying to lend a hand. Aimry wasn’t going to argue. Better taking advantage of a rare moment of down-time than embarrassing himself in front of a class of pre-pubescents. It wasn’t until the rider was halfway between his dragon and the shelter of the trees that the boy actually recognized who it was, and immediately resigned himself to standing up.

“Weyrleader,” he greeted, inclining his upper half in a neat bow as the shirtless man sat against the cool bark of the tree. Hesitating only briefly he seated himself again, relaxed but composed. He was determined not to be intimidated no matter how stern T’ran appeared or how much pressure he was under to make a good impression, he did after all have the advantage of knowing something about them both that the bronzerider didn’t. And yet the fact wasn’t nearly as reassuring as it was nerve-inducing, though he stamped down on his anxieties doggedly. “Not unlike the North but… with better tans and substantially more firelizards.”

With a demure smile to support his wry quip the apprentice looked from T’ran to the dragon enjoying the attentions of his little friends, impressed by the powerful sight of the creature with his wingspan on unintentional display. “How are the hatching preparations coming? I imagine it must be a stressful time for you, especially considering the Weyrwoman’s… poor health.” He chose his words carefully, and kept his eyes on Knymawth so that the query did not appear too probing. It was a predominantly innocent question anyway, as he tried to find where he stood with Southern’s notoriously austere Weyrleader.

[stolenhart]

"They are a damned nuisance is what they are", T'ran muttered when Aimry claimed there was substantially more firelizards here than in the North. "The only useful things they do is scrub the dragons, other than that they chirp, whistle, and growl all night long, knock stuff over, shred cloth and steal food. The folk claim that they deliver messages and watch over babies but you can't convince me of it. Harbringers of Doom is more like it", he added, running a hand over his head. The short stubble was nearly long enough to need another cutting, he'd have to visit the Weyr barber soon enough.

"Stressful? That is not even the correct word", he replied to the question. "There isn't much to prepare for, fattening beasts, washing and bleaching the robes, same old same old. It won't get stressful until the day of the Hatching, when everything will have to happen within the space of a few hours", he could only hope against the nightmare. Some Lord didn't show up, some merchant wasn't brought on time he'd hear all the complaints no doubt and Hallek would be smiling all the while. "Gimna should be at the Hatching, the Healers have said they'll let her go", it was a lie, but at least it kept rumors down.

[fauxfox]

“You’re a fan of them, then?” He grinned briefly, drolly amused that such an important man as Southern’s Weyrleader could be induced into a rant on firelizards of all things, as if they were the most troublesome aspect of his life. The little beasts were still a fairly uncommon sight up North, and Aimry had yet to fully appreciate the amount of trouble they could cause, particularly in flocks of the number that frequented Southern. They all seemed rather benign to the Harper apprentice. He watched a group of them use the bronze giant’s neck-ridges as posts to weave between and race, while their more diligent brethren made swift work of cleaning the fragile wing membranes with the industriousness of swarming insects.

“I’m glad to hear it. The Weyr will be reassured to feel her presence again no doubt,” he ventured, taking the news with a strong dose of scepticism but accepting it none the less. The truth would show, as the elders liked to say. It would have been rude to call his bluff, in any case. “I apologise if I’m intruding on your leisure. I appreciate you and Knymawth must get very little.” Turning his shrewd eyes on the Weyrleader he allowed them to linger over the scars that made a violent canvas of his torso, openly curious not only of the mars left by old injuries but the events that had shaped this man that maybe, in another life, might have been familiar. "The cost of leadership, I suppose." It wasn't clear whether he was talking about the lack of free-time or the scars.

[stolenhart]

"Oh yeah, their biggest one yet", T'ran rolled his eyes, "Maybe that is why I never Impressed one of the little darlings, they know deep down I can't stand them". Which from what he'd heard would explain his lack of a firelizard. They tended towards love, safety and food more than Hatchlings did, though to this day T'ran could not tell a person how it was Knymawth came to Impress him. T'ran still couldn't believe it himself, sometimes he smacked himself just to make sure life wasn't a dream. He still hadn't woken up yet, and if this was a dream that was probably a good thing.

The young man was only being polite, expressing the general emotion of the Weyr regarding the Weyrwoman's return. There was very little T'ran could say to that in reply but the young man just seemed to keep on going though, "You were sitting here under this tree all by your lonesome, you were hardly intruding", T'ran gave the younger man a 'Don't be Silly' look, "I intruded on you but I won't apologize, you were using the only shade for lengths around". The Weyrleader turned back to watch his dragon cavort in the waves, the firelizards playing around him while others scrubbed. The dragon was just a big playground to them. "Yeah. The cost of leadership is harder on the mind than the body. When the body quits at least you are dead, if the mind quits", well T'ran had seen a few people who'd lost their mind in his turns.