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Logfile from G'deon
30th of January, 2001
Nylanth's World Headquarters
The woodsy scent of unfinished lumber permeates this liberally immense weyr.
The source can be found near the back of the weyr where a rather large number
of wooden planks been stacked against the wall. A large mattress, with no bed
frame at the moment, has been laid down near the pile of lumber, with a couple
of light blankets and a darkly crimson quilt neatly settled on top and tucked
underneath, with a few pillows strewn liberally at the head of the makeshift
bed.
The very first object inside the weyr is a large stone couch. Next you see a
tall wooden cabinet, newly built, and in the middle of the weyr is a large wooden
table with a dark, natural coat of finish. Though hardly a master's work, the
table is well built with simple scrollwork etched into the side and a small
name scrawled into one table leg. Four sturdy chairs, built to match, are pushed
in under the table. The last notable item in the room is the fireplace opposite
the dragon couch. An old green sofa has been set in front of the fireplace with
a thick fur rug strewn between.
It is a spring afternoon.
To the west, you see Nylanth.
On a corner of the couch is Rei.
You see an old rucksack, Nylanth's couch, and a fireplace here.
Obvious exits:
Ledge
G'deon
G'deon appears at first glance to be quite calm and collected, though a mischievous
gleam seems to tint his blue eyes from time to time. He has grown into a rather
well built frame and stands at less than an inch under six feet. Many Turns
of hard work have helped his shoulders fill out considerably, along with his
arms and hands. His legs however are still the wiry limbs of his youth, which
he'll never lose. Newly cut hair tops this young man's head, the short hairs
glistening hazily, a sandy blond frame for a lightly tanned face accented by
his calm blue eyes, clear and blue as the summer sky over High Reaches.
Grey is his shirt, like the morning fog rolling down from the mountains. Tawny,
the trousers, like an old oak tree, paladin of the forest. Black are the boots,
black, the belt, the deepest hour of midnight. Bronze, the buckles, silver,
the knife, together an icy chorus. But be wary of that which is still concealed
by more than just mere clothing. The human soul is more complex then what you
picked out this morning.
Unwavering shadows intertwine with the deep dark blue of a glacier, the two
cords forming a single loop. A small tail of the same black and blue hangs from
the top of the knot, joined by a single tassel. Mingling with the cords is a
fine ribbon of shimmering bronze, naming G'deon as a bronze senior weyrling
and wingsecond of High Reaches.
He is awake and looks alert.
You notice G'deon looking at you.
G'deon is 20 Turns, 8 months, and 24 days old.
Hyzen knocks at the door from the Ledge.
Hyzen ducks through the light wherhide curtain.
Hyzen
Glowing amber/gold embers flash brilliantly in the rounded face of this small
weyr-child, hinting at truths untold and the mysteries and joys of being a kidlet.
Short bangs decorate the high forehead then lengthen back into her usual ponytail,
banded together with a small runner-clip. Pert little nose tips slightly up
at the end and small mouth is usually pulled into a thoughful and reflective
line. Gentle neck extends downwards, drawing ones eye onto the flat chest of
a child and towards the jutting shoulders. Short arms, not showing anything
in the department of muscles, lead unobtrusively into delicate hands... uncalloused
and seemingly fragile, they do hold the almost unnoticable knobs of the paintbrush
and stylus resting spots. Curving waist leads completely into legs, not stopping
for the waist of which there doesn't seem to be... as is with most children.
Resembling arms as much as is possible, her legs are also short and unmuscled
to the eye. Small feet poke out from the ends of her legs, not highly noticable
to one how only gives her the cursory glance as is common for the quiet and
thoughtful.
Thickly knitted llama fur forms a deeply hued shirt of royal blue, converging
gently around Hyzen's form. Long sleeved and high-necked for the heavy winters,
there isn't much design to this article of clothing. Except... maybe, if you
look close enough you might see the crafitly sewed designs that make up the
whole shirt itself. Stitched into the right shoulder is a small badge with a
slanted line the colors of High Reaches Weyr: blue and black. The pitch colored
pants are held up by a thin, short-furred belt that combines both shirt and
trousers. Cut to hang flowingly down the wearer's legs, form isn't really an
option here. A crease moves down the middle of each leg until the cuffs, where
black boots adorn the small feet. Not the kind to be called showy, they are
sturdy and well fit for the work they do. Happily stuffed in his little pouch,
wedge head poking out, is Phoenix.
Simplistic line of a bright orange twist around the neck of Hyzen, the small
though detailed mountain and firelizards proudly shown along with the loving
words etched into the essance. A delicate flash of intricate twining shines
from the slender finger of young Hyzen; thusly the shape of a hand-wrought ring.
Circling around and around, never ending like the bond that is shared between
dragon and rider, are two brilliantly hued cords on Hyzen's left shoulder: a
deep azure-blue and staring ebony-black. Meandering slowly, languidly, dancing
and twining with the two colors is a third of proud emerald green, a ribbon
worked into the two cords with delicate care. A small tassle is made up of the
ends of the three colours, flapping gently 'pon shoulder's side, making it known
her rank as High Reaches Sr. Weyrling Wingsecond of the fey green Imbriath.
She is awake and looks alert.
Hyzen is 17 Turns, 4 months, and 24 days old.
You notice Hyzen looking at you.
G'deon is seated at the table, a large cluster of hides in front of him. He looks up though and smiles, waving his fellow wingsecond over. "Sorry for the mess," he says quickly as he stands and pulls out a chair. "Can I get anything for you? All I have is juice and wine."
Hyzen strides in carefully, glancing back at Imbriath and an unreadable expression. That green... letting a small sigh trickle out, the girl turns back to G'deon and offers a grin. "Hello Gids..." Eyes dart around before slender shoulders are lifted in a shrug. "I don't mind... you should see my own weyr." It's a mess, no thanks to her firelizards. "Um... juice is fine," says she as she takes the proffered seat, watching the bronzerider quietly for a moment. "I came to see how you were doing..."
G'deon bustles about, an almost hyper energy about him today. He grabs a couple glasses from a newly built cabinet, then on the way back to the table he takes a skin of juice from a crate on the floor. "It's not a mess exactly, just... out of order." The weyr that is. "I'm hoping to get more furniture and shelves and all that, but I only have so much time," he rambles on, pouring the two glasses. At last he takes a seat again and sets one of the glasses down in front of Hyzen. "Redfruit juice, hope you don't mind."
One brow raises at G'deon for his activity before Hyzen slowly takes the glass and sips the juice. "Yes... I know how it is." A grin appears around the rim of the glass as her gaze darts back towards the hidden entrance; out where her dragon was trying to make up to Nylanth. "I never thought a dragon could be so much work... and the classes on top of just going about daily life." Another shrug, though this one's with one shoulder as she slowly sets the juice down. "I don't mind... what's got you so wound up?" Amber-golden eyes study her friend critically as she awaits his reply.
"Me? Wound up?" G'deon asks, blinking at Hyzen for a second or two. He glances down at the table, then towards the back of the weyr, a rather confused look on his face. "I... don't know actually. Just keeping busy I guess," he adds, his tone only slightly convincing. "How are you and Imbriath doing?"
Hyzen laughs softly, taking another sip of the juice before shaking auburn tressed head. "Just keeping busy doesn't sound like you for some reason..." Teasingly said as she fingers the glass, watching the liquid swirl in it. "We're fine... she seems to be better than I, in some aspects." A wince as a comment comes floating her way. "She says Nylanth looks handsome today. Like always." She refuses to say anything else of the green's words. "And you? How are you and Nylanth?" A stress is placed on the word 'you'.
Again that rather vacant blinking look is given Hyzen as G'deon sits there, perhaps trying to interpret her words. "Actually, I get like this sometimes. Keeping busy that is," he finally replies. "And as for Nylanth and me, we're doing well. Nylanth's still growing, for Faranth's sake! He's healthy though, keeping a running commentary in my head whenever he's awake." Not that the weyrling seems to mind it. Not that he seems to notice Hyzen's emphasis in questioning him either.
Hyzen frowns now, the expression marring her face as she looks away G'deon, pondering. Glass is placed between both her hands as fingers tips slowly tap away. "In that, Nylanth and Imbriath are alike, though she likes to use pictures more than words." Which is told by the many, many Hyzen-drawings hanging in their weyr. Finally, she forces her gaze back, eyeing the older 'rider. "How are you, yourself?" She's still got a worry for him, though she'd heard through the 'vine that Ilare and him had started making up... and she'd seen a bit of it herself.
G'deon takes a slow sip from his own glass before setting it back on the table, on a part not covered by hides that is. "I've been good," he answers after a moment, voice rather quiet. "Like I said, I've been keeping busy what with chores, classes and my... hobby work here," he adds, a wry grin given with the last comment. "I'm trying to keep up with my woodworking. I'd hate to have spent all those Turns in the Smithcraft only to forget it all or loose my touch." He leans back in his chair, a rather placid smile on his face. "Other than that... things are working out bit by bit."
Hyzen's smile returns at the answer... she'd gotten all that before, but she'd wanted to know a bit deeper. Nosy. Finishing off her juice, she twists the glass about in her hands, careful not to drop it. Eyes dance along the different things he's created, envy flashing along her facial features. "It's all beautiful work... I might have to commission you one of these days." A wink is now sent to the male before she goes on. "I'm glad to hear that... we shouldn't be fighting amongst ourselves... especially us. You've accepted the Wingsecond position back, right?" She'd never heard on that subject...
[To be continued...]