Sunrise In Half Moon Bay

Both Xanadu and Half Moon Bay Weyr
It's a dragon thing.

[DTU/Project] Leirith senses that Garouth sits in darkness, a gradual light rising before him. He shares his sight from the rim of Half Moon's bowl, watching out over the water as Rukbat rises. There are no words to go with the view, nothing said… as he hasn't since he rose with a roar from afternoon exercises and all but flung D'lei onto his back before leaping to the sky and vanishing. Not a word since then, his mind a tumult of stormy winds that rebuffed contact with its wild dance of air and water… but now, with as little prelude, he shares his sight. At Half Moon, Rukbat rises.

[DTU/Project] Garouth senses that Leirith is there, a second awareness that awakens in Garouth's mind with the subtle beating of drums at the edges of his vision, tentative, unable to accomplish complete silence even when she tries. Perhaps in Leirith's slow growing maturity, the queen has come to understand what silences mean, that silences are not only because she is talking too much, or saying the wrong words, or missing the point entirely; perhaps Leirith's hushed by the view of Rukbat bleeding color into the world over a bowl she's seen so many times within the confines of her own lifemate's mind, void this time of the lackluster colors observed in human sight and given its own vibrant beauty through Garouth; perhaps Leirith just doesn't have anything to say (a lie). Whatever commands Leirith's silence, Leirith is there: a hint of a feathers in a single mask, leaning closer, on the precipice of ill-concealed joy that stirs because Garouth is here and here is there. She projects so much, an assault of feelings that have yet to reach their full potential, but are no less felt: she missed him, she wonders why he's gone (though no longer where), she doesn't understand his silence or his respite, or why he's here now (though it gives her such joy) and by the way, her minion is worried about his. But they are feelings, things she cannot hide as they seep out into the silence that stretches with Rukbat's ascent in a place she's only been in Risali's mind. « I see you, Garouth! » She tells him, though she doesn't, and those four insignificant words are accompanied by a rush of affection, a wealth of emotion that's innocent in its application. « I love you. » And then she will wait, a single dancer in Garouth's mind, leaning against his hide in the bowl, asking for nothing more than what he is willing to give - and receiving it gladly.

[DTU/Project] Leirith senses that Garouth is quiet, but he is there. He is here, present in thought and contact that bridges the distance. The silence is far from complete, for even when the wind is calm and the branches untossed, there are small insects that make tunnels through dry leaves, the avians that shift their weight on the branches. Dawn comes, and the forest changes from night to day, the return of sun's light with its different shadows from moon's. Rukbat rises, in all the colors that dragon's eye can see, and Garouth is here. Leirith is there, with him even though he (or is that she?) is far away. There are signs of the storm in the forest, as light reveals them. Snapped branches on the ground, uprooted shrubs… nothing major, but enough to place this calm with the tumult it follows. His hide, if she could see it, might reveal the same… but that vision is not for her. His is. With it are his own feelings, open and yet hidden. He is tired, fatigue soaked through him like the rain that makes a mud of the forest floor. The lingering scents of ozone and anger mingle with the ache of crushed greenery and the sticky residue of resin from injured pines. He gives no answers, yet his mind is strong and certain in its reach and open to her, no hesitation to it… and that itself is an answer of sorts, a clarity of affection and connection among so many complexities not yet understood. Her words make the wind stir, faint like the sense of it over his wings that reiterates their fatigue… yet the wind still blows, a soft breeze like the one that shifts wispy fragments of cloud to frame the sky. He's quiet, with her, yet not silent. He shares the small sounds that make up this world with the two of them… and others besides, stirring in the bowl below like the insects in his forest, but he pays those equal mind. It takes time for any answer more than the touch and presence, yet those tell the story of feelings long before he speaks to reiterate. « And I love you. »

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