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Post by Briarwind on Nov 9, 2010 1:41:00 GMT -5
The first rays of dawn cut through the grey skies, burning away the haze of fog that clung to the ground on that early spring day. A cool breeze stirred over the ground, chasing pale motes of dust through the dusky light. It wove its way across the bowl, past the Weyr's old, sore-boned runners stretching their muscles slowly in the dim light, around the paddock of lazy herdbeasts, and over the wide, full lake to cut across a clearing. In the center of the clearing, it bit the flesh of a towering young man, cooling the sweat from his skin as he flowed through a series of exercises with surprising grace, for a man of his not-inconsiderable stature. Rhiskyraenen's regimen of exercise was a daily ritual that began before the sun, as it had since he was a child, and he certainly wasn't about to let a trifle like having his father pack him up like a sack of tubers and ship him off to some new Weyr as an exile and last-ditch effort to let him prove himself on the sands stop that. His physical condition was altogether too important to let such a thing interfere with it. A weak body would be fatal for a dragon-man when thread returned, and he was, obviously, destined to be a dragon-man. There had never been any other choice for him. There had never been any choice at all, truth told. Rhiskyraenen's movements became swifter, sharper, as his brow drew. This was his last chance. He didn't dare fail, here. He didn't dare fail, again. His father would never forgive him, if he did. His life would be empty, worthless. Where would he go? What would he do? What would he become? A drudge? A kitchens' worker? Him? The son of such prestigious lines? He would never live down the shame. No; that was not for him. This would be the clutch. It had to be. This would be the Weyr. Bivium was his chance to truly prove himself worthy. Bivium would be where he would meet his bronze, or perhaps his brown. The clipped motion came to an abrupt halt as Rhiskyraenen froze, quivering faintly with the effort of maintaining the position, unmoving, before he slowly allowed himself to relax. Pushing his hand through his hair, he fell into an easy walk, his long legs allowing him to lope across the bowl at a ground-devouring pace. His gait took him shortly to the lake, where he shucked off his shoes and waded out a few feet, letting the water cool him as he thought. His mind exalted to lofty heights as it imagined his inevitable impression in vivid detail. That impossibly rich, gleaming hue, with its undertones of greens and overtones of vibrant gold and brown could only belong to a bronze, and the bulk of the creature was such that even most queens would not top it, when it reached full growth. It was magnificent, and as it rose gracefully from its shell, shaking loose the stray bits of its former prison from its wings, it turned without even a moment's hesitation toward Rhiskyraenen. Who else, after all, was there for this stunning creature?
As it took a step forward, Rhiskyraenen echoed the motion, awed by the creature's sure, powerful motion. So enraptured was he that he did not notice the bit of shell sticking out of the sand. The dragonet stumbled over the shard, falling down and sending a cloud of sand into the air. Rhiskyraenen covered his eyes, coughing, and turned his head until the sand cleared. Even as he turned, he felt the bond forming with the creature, and his soul exalted. Once the dust was settled, he turned back, eager to greet his lifemate, then froze, staring at the wide-eyed, stunted green runt that stared lovingly back up at him.With a start, Rhiskyraenen jolted back to reality. A tremor raced down his spine, which he quickly chocked up to the cool water lapping around his calves. It surely had nothing to do with the fear that his vision had brought on him. Rhiskyraenen was too controlled, too brave, for that sort of silliness. Swiftly, he dislodged himself from the lake, pulling on his boots once more and trying to shake the image of the green from his mind. It was just a silly bit of confusion, that was all. As though he would ever impress a green! Pfaugh. It was the most nonsensical notion he had ever had, and should be dismissed as such. Such creatures were of considerable value, of course, in a fighting wing, but truly, the idea that one would ever look to him was preposterous, of course. R'his would kill him, if he ever impressed such a fragile, delicate little thing.
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Post by Lilacdew on Nov 9, 2010 16:12:34 GMT -5
Black hair secured behind her face in a draping ponytail, Syreaka found her way along the beach at dawn. It was no small wonder she was there, when the sunrise was flaring with such beauty to be admired. Yes, definitely to be admired. That was the type of beauty and strength one should aspire to, as Threaka had always told her, and it was towards that goal that Syreaka would always work towards. Strength, beauty, and to be able in everything she did. That was why she was here with the golden egg from the clutch from her former Weyr. She was to impress a dragon, help lead the Weyr and bring glory back to Eastern. She was their blood. She was their pride. She also began to feel a bit lonely. When she was sent out here, it was without many of the others she'd gotten close to. Allowing herself a moment to ponder to herself, she heaved a sigh before shaking herself out of it. She was strong, beautiful and independant and would show up those from Western with all she had. They had nothing on her! A little green firelizard quickly flew in to land upon Syreaka's shoulder, nuzzling her little head against the woman's cheek. Instinctively, Syreaka's hand went up to caress the lizard's side, smiling lightly with a brief adoring glance. Deltra was her savour, her friend...and proof that she could do it. She could, would and will impress a dragon on those sands and would continue working hard so that she could! The determined woman walked in silence for a while, left to her own thoughts when she stumbled upon an area where she spotted a man standing in the cool water, pulling himself from the lake. She blinked and raised an eyebrow. Huh, he was impressive looking if anything. Who in the world was he?
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Post by Briarwind on Nov 10, 2010 19:11:32 GMT -5
Rhiskyraenen sighed, shoving his hand roughly through his hair, drawing a deep, composing breath, and then cast a slow, contemplative gaze across the small bowl. It was so much ... less than he was used to. It was also his. R'his wasn't here to colour everything with his own personal touch, and his mother's name wasn't on the lips of every passing drudge. Yes, tensions were high enough that he could feel them in the air whenever more than two gathered anywhere, but still ... this place was his. There was something wonderful about that, and in the predawn grey, it was his alone. 'Well, almost alone,' he amended mentally as he took note of the slight, dark-haired beauty watching him. This was company he supposed he wouldn't mind so much, though. She could violate his solitude, if she wanted to. Banishing unhappy thoughts, he made his way across the Bowl to her, flashing her a winning smile as he approached. "A bit early for a walk, isn't it?" he asked lightly by way of greeting. "A good morning to you."
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Post by Lilacdew on Nov 11, 2010 0:16:43 GMT -5
Syreaka hadn't really bothered to move any closer to the young man. This morning had been about reflection and exploration, a small bit of solitude that she probably couldn't have expected elsewhere. She reached up to stroke the little green that had settled upon her shoulder, pondering the man who was steadily getting taller as he approached. He was incredibly handsome, the sort of fair headed and strong person that you expect to only meet in a dream once or twice. When he finally stopped, she blinked. He was tall! She took a moment more to assess him once she got over the fact that the man was much taller than she. Her silver gaze took in all there was to see, from the winning smile to the proud gait, and it wasn't long before his voice caused her to smile softly. Syreaka nodded up at him, regally nodding her head for a moment. She vaguely recognized him. One of the candidates, right? She couldn't recall the name right off, but that was alright. Either way, she quickly spoke as Deltra started to croon, "I suppose it is, but I enjoy the peace and quiet of this time. A good morning to you as well. Does it find you well?"
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Post by Briarwind on Nov 11, 2010 0:44:08 GMT -5
"Far better now," he replied, making no effort to hide his regard, "than it was before. I enjoy the solitude, myself - but I can't say that I'm adverse to a bit of pleasant company." This was followed up by yet another smile. She truly was striking. Perhaps she was not beautiful, in the purest classical sense, but there was no denying that her colouration alone was striking enough to merit notice, to say nothing of her features. "Might I ask your name, and that of your lovely companion?" he inquired, offering both her and the firelizard a courtly bow - and making a point of showing the tiny creature a bit of deference all her own, by way of keeping the conversation light hearted. It wouldn't do to scare the delicate woman away, now that he had her company, and he had seen only too well how a little flattery could go a very long way. Besides, women loved their pets. Showing it some attention would no doubt be a credit to him with its owner, and just about now, that seemed to him to be a lovely idea.
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Post by Lilacdew on Nov 11, 2010 1:01:39 GMT -5
Syreaka smiled slowly, charmed. He was lightly playful, and the little bit of flirting did nothing to take away from it. Her eyes twinkled in amusement as she smiled a bit wider. She tilted her head to the side in deference to his statement about company, replying easily, "I cannot say I am adverse to it either. Particularly when it proves as charming as it is at this moment." The little firelizard on her shoulder crooned at Rhiskyraenen, her eyes whirling in curiosity. And when he bowed to the lizard, the green apparently adored it. Bobbing her head towards the man, she tilted it, leaning forward towards him while still sitting upon her mistress's shoulder. Syreaka flashed the green what seemed to be a doting smile before she looked over at Rhis once more. Stretching her hand out towards him in an offer to shake his own, she said, "The green's name is Deltra. Mine, is Syreaka. Might I ask yours?"
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Post by Briarwind on Nov 11, 2010 1:20:30 GMT -5
Rhiskyraenen took the proffered hand in his much larger one, but did not shake it. Instead, he bowed his head, lifting it to his lips and pressing a gentle, courtly kiss against her knuckles. "I am honoured," he replied, holding her fingers for a heartbeat longer than was perfectly proper before letting go. "My name is Rhiskyraenen." The answer, from kiss to name, came without thought, which was just as well, for there was something else on Rhiskyraenen's mind, and it was proving rather difficult to puzzle out around the other thoughts she stirred. Something about her name... Syreaka? Why did he know that? What was it about her name that stirred his memory? He knew it from somewhere, of that he was certain, but for the life of him, he couldn't place it. Well, the puzzle would still be there tomorrow, and it was quite possible that this pretty girl would not. One thing at a time, hmm?
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Post by Lilacdew on Nov 11, 2010 9:57:45 GMT -5
Syreaka blinked, clearly surprised as he lifted her hand to his lips, pressing the kiss to the knuckles. Definitely charming. She smiled a slow, pleased smile as she felt her heart skip a beat. Now here was a man who knew how to treat a woman! She was having fun. However, when he said that name, she began to think. Where had she heard it before? She was having a bit of trouble with that, and couldn't quite place it. Regardless, she decided to push forward on the conversation as she daintly pulled her hand back towards herself. She spoke, her voice smooth and soft, "So, Rhiskyraenen. Why are you out here so early? Is it the solitude that called you to this place?"
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Post by Briarwind on Nov 11, 2010 20:04:26 GMT -5
"Practice," Rhiskyraenen admitted, shrugging. "I train in the mornings, in order to spare myself problems later. When I impress -" and he was proud to note that the niggling doubt that perpetually wriggled its way into his mind was completely absent from his voice "- it will make Weyrling training considerably easier for me. Besides, it teaches control." Unsaid was the necessity for someone of his stature to have flawless physical control. It was enough that everyone could see by looking at him how dangerous it would be if he were to slip up, physically. There was no need to draw special attention to it. Instead, he expounded mildly, "Mornings are cooler and quieter. Both are conducive to my practice. It gets ... rather warm pretty quickly, otherwise." That was something of an understatement, but somehow, he doubted she wanted that much detail. Pausing contemplatively, he glanced her over again, noting the fine lines of sinew and reflecting on the softness of her hands. This was no kitchens worker, with hands like that, or crafter, but there was too much hardness in her for her to be a holder or merchant. Hazarding a guess, since her knots appeared to be missing*, he asked mildly, "Are you a candidate, as well?" It could be, of course, that she was a greenrider, but that didn't occur to him until after he'd said something. Well, better for him if she was a candidate, anyway. Equal rank would well suit the tone of their conversation. (*Permission was obtained for this.)
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Post by Lilacdew on Nov 12, 2010 0:36:15 GMT -5
“I see. Well, it does make sense to practice. If you don’t, you will steadily lose footing on what you’re aiming to achieve, no? My family has told that to me often enough,” She smiled, nodding as she listened to him. The familiarity of his name still nagging at the back of her mind, and Deltra crooned quietly at her as if to echo the slight confusion. Syreaka reached up to once more stroke the fire lizard’s side before she shifted her stance, letting herself balance on the balls of her feet. He was glancing at her a lot, and she couldn’t say she had a problem with that when she then said, “Yes, I am a candidate. I’m here to hopefully impress one of the golds, actually. From how you asked though, I assume it’s safe to say you are a candidate as well, yes?”
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Post by Briarwind on Nov 12, 2010 0:57:20 GMT -5
"Deepest apologies," Rhiskyraenen replied, dropping into a humble bow. "Indeed I am, and I am sorry for failing to make a proper introduction. I must beg distraction and ask your forgiveness for the oversight. Rhiskyraenen, son of R'his and Belaraene, candidate of Bivium Weyr, at your service, my dear ladies," he intoned somberly before straightening once more.
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Post by Lilacdew on Nov 12, 2010 1:37:09 GMT -5
Syreaka moved to curtsey by reflex when he bowed to her, but the moment he made his full introductions, she stiffened. The little lizard on her shoulder quickly hissed, her eyes whirling with red as the woman was caught by surprise. Those names he stated, those she was all to familiar with. And like a river's flood striking her full on like ice water, she knew immediately why his name sounded so familiar. Western's weyrwoman's represenative son. This man was the one Threaka insisted she watch out for. His parents were terrible, power driven people, or so Threaka swore. They tried to beat down the independance of women, looking down their noses at them, unable to accept the progressiveness of the future that was coming at them at full force. However, he was nicer than words had stated, and she spoke almost hesitatantly, as though unsure of what to say,"Syreaka, daughter of Threaka and S'elm, candidate of Bivium Weyr."
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Post by Briarwind on Nov 12, 2010 2:00:05 GMT -5
Threaka. Syreaka. Of course. He should have heard it. He should have seen it. Of course her name was familiar. How could he have forgotten? A distinctive stiffness entered Rhiskyraenen's posture as she righted herself, the woman's identity offering him no small amount of troubling thoughts. As the daughter of Threaka, the tyrannical lunatic governing Eastern Weyr, she was, of course, the enemy by default, but how to proceed from here was far less clear-cut. Did he alienate her the way his parents had alienated hers? Did he chock much of the dispute up to all of them being stubborn, wherry-brained fools? Did he try to manipulate this to his favour? For the moment, a gentler approach seemed wisest. It was really quite unfortunate he was a lousy actor; there was no disguising his wariness at the situation as he replied almost bitterly, "Well, so much for the light mood."
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Post by Lilacdew on Nov 12, 2010 13:12:26 GMT -5
The charming, handsome man that stood before her, was the 'enemy'? Syreaka had a hard time wrapping her head around that one. The son of the weak and frivolous Belaraene, and the R'his, follower of T'ben, who was known to use his power like mad. Doubts began to filter through her mind, 'Was he as bad as she'd been told?' 'Was he really the enemy?' 'What would he do now that he knows who she is?' There was a distinct hesitance building within her, something in there that didn't want to alienate this man. So now, she was caught between loyalty to her Weyr and parents, and the loyalty to Bivium that she'd now be expected to display. A bit of doubt flickered into her gaze, as though unsure of how Rhiskyraenen would act or say. Her voice was very softer than it had been before, "It would seem so. It's a shame, really." She reached up to stroke the firelizard she'd startled with her hand, the little green starting to settle down upon the woman's shoulder.
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Post by Briarwind on Nov 13, 2010 1:34:43 GMT -5
"One of the greatest of my life," he replied, genuine regret colouring his tone. For a long moment, he said nothing as he pondered her silently, before he offered, "A truce: let Bivium come first, between us?" There would be conflict. It was unavoidable. Perhaps, this way, it would be a quieter, tamer conflict, at least.
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