Xanadu Weyr - Meadow
A large, slightly rolling meadow is set high enough above the riverbank on both sides to avoid suffering from flooding, healthy ground cover and grass spreading out from either side of the dividing river. Scattered amongst the meadow are a variety of weyrs, each with a narrow path leading up to it from a main, winding road. Some are set under a few trees, while others sit by themselves. The meadow continues with gentle rolls and dips, grass tall and short waving in the slightest of breezes, and eventually those hills grow higher and steeper, ending in a large rige that provides a fine view of that meadow and the rest of the Weyr, gazing out over the multicolored roofs of the houses and the cliff that holds the caverns.
Runner stables with the paddock beyond are to the south beyond the meadow weyrs, and a smithy and a woodcraft shop are settled closer in towards the path to the clearing. Trees border the northern side of the meadow, and more of those low, rolling hills can be seen to the northwest. A road passes through the meadow, coming from the east and used by traders and crafters alike. Wagons laden with felled trees from the forests or ore from the mountains are hauled by burden beast up the road through the meadow, over the bridge spanning the river to be processed in the appropriate workshops.
While K'zre and F'inn have fun exploring the garden (and contemplating the merits of catching and eating those colorful fishies…) Yasminath is in the meadow. And of course, that means Nymionth is in the meadow too. Oh, she'd love to be in the garden sniffing up the carefully cultivated flowers, but she'll settle for the wild ones in the meadow instead. There's definitely bounding around, which means she's definitely tripping over her own feet on occasion, but nothing can stem her joy at it being « Summer!!! » Because it's winter in Fort! The flowers are dead (BUT THERE IS SNOW!). But here it's SUMMER and there are FLOWERS and GRASS and CLEAR BLUE SKIES! « Nymionth! Nymionth look! This one is blue! »
« So I see. » Nymionth's tones are indulgent as he remains settled on the edge of the field watching Yasminath cavorting. (He'll leave the flower crushing to her.) Even so, his mind voice is warm, as warm the summer air, and swirling with the not at all subtle scent of roses. « And it is summer. Which means there is no snow. » Given that yesterday they were lamenting the lack of sufficient snow to build a dragon-size igloo? He's not quite sure how to respond to the glee. It is, however, Yasminath, and her glee? Nym's joy. A fact made clear by the fact that his eyes are whirling pale shades of blue to match his weyrlings. « And there is a yellow one and pink one… And red…» And more blue, naturally. In the wake of the words, he shifts on the edge of the meadow, massive wings giving a cloak-like billow before resettling against his molten bronze hide. « We will have F'inn pick some to bring home with us. » He's decided. It shall be so.
There can be no summer without winter, no day without night… no light without darkness! At least… not if we're talking about Garouth, his brindled hide like some kind of metaphor except for the fact that it's how he actually looks. He approaches from the forest beyond, pacing on paws that - for his size - really should not be as quiet as they are up to a vantage point on the ridge where the observatory sits. There he stands for a moment, surveying this meadow and those within it… which seems to include a pair of dragons unfamiliar to him, and Garouth's eyes are green-yellow tinged as they settle on stable Nymioth and bounding Yasminath for a bit more observation and consideration.
There is not a dragon nor rider that breaches Xanadu Weyr's airspace without Leirith knowing (which is redundant because of course the rider has to be on a dragon to be in Xanadu's airspace, but SHUT UP), and //now is no different. While most other queens might have Too Much On Their Plate between riders, and weyrs, and tricky hive-minds, Leirith does not. SHE HAS EXACTLY ALL OF THE TIME IN ALL OF THE WORLDS (read: her world) and that's why she's here, now, a massive mustard-yellow monstrosity that nobody would attribute with beauty unless you're talking about that effervescently contagious personality. Or, you know, obnoxious one, depending on who you ask. She brings bass, and drums and none of the carefully observant observations that mark Garouth's entrance; she's sunbright joy and exaltation, a brush of thrumming sound that carries scents unfit for her house-party mind but still there: funnel cake, spun sugar, things that crumbled with terran-myth and so can't really be placed on Pern. But there she is, massive wings extended, eyes blue and green and alert as she brushes up against shadows and perhaps brings some of that metaphorical light to to complement his darkness. Not that, you know, Garouth is a dark dragon in the ways that he could be a dark dragon. « LOOK AT THIS ONE, TINY BEAUTY. HE IS MAGNIFICENT TOO. » There's giddy laughter and delight, and yes, she is talking about Garouth whom she is not quite near but is coming up on him fast. Fast enough to practically bury her nose in his side when she gets there. « Garouth, look at the little badasses. » SO MUCH EXCITE. And yes, she brushes up against the minds of Nymionth and Yasminath both — eddied joy, unfiltered warmth, a rush of something very much Leirith that's almost like an atomic bomb of over-enthusiastic welcome.
Yasminath wouldn't hurt a fly! But apparently, she's OK with crushing flowers (accidentally of course!). A brilliant « Yay! » comes gleefully for the declaration that F'inn will be picking them for her. Yasminath has no qualms about letting Nymionth assign tasks to his rider. K'zre will probably help (of course he will). And what's not to love about summer (and flowers!) in Xanadu! Of course Yas will be gleeful over it. And she'll be just as gleeful about the snow when they go back. SO gleeful is she, that she is blissfully unaware of that Garouth-spy lurking near the observatory. « I like these ones, » she decides, sniffing as delicately as a giant little green dragon can sniff, « They're not like Fort's flowers. » She's pretty sure, even if it's been several months since Fort had flowers. The appearance (or is it just that Yasminath is only now becoming aware) of Leirith brings up that moonlight-kissed head, glee and delight and innocent curiosity beaming out at the call. « He? Who is he? » Of course she believes, innocently and with none of the smug-assurance that her sibling Czarduinath might have, that she is the tiny beauty in question. It COULD be Nymionth. But Yas is pretty sure it's her. « HI! » And then she's bounding over to Nymionth, to snuggle up with her own bronze beasty and giggle with all the giggles a dragon without actual giggle-abilities can muster in her mind. « I love Xanadu! » She loves Fort too. And Igen. And Half Moon (well, maybe not Half Moon…) And every other place she's been too. But right now? It's all about Xanadu.
It's the sudden PRESENCE of JOY (in all caps, naturally) that brings Nymionth's head up and his attention sweeping toward the pair watching them. Unfortunately, he might not have noticed Garouth for a while, but for the fact that it is utterly impossible not to be bowled over by Leirith's presence. That Nym is shockingly, and unusually empathic? That only makes the effect that much stronger. To the point that, for a moment, the meadow (and the visiting pair) are momentarily obscure by a burst of thorned, long stemmed roses courtsey of the young bronze. (it's a very anime moment, really) As those roses finally settle, Nymionth is sitting straighter, those cloak-like wings billowing in a non-existent breeze (don't blame me, I didn't write Sailor Moon) ala a certain masked hero. « We have company. » It's an unnecessary announcement given that there is little chance that Yasminath could possible miss that. « Fort's greetings to Xanadu and her Queens. » Formalities first, always. Yasminath's approach is met with Nymionth's wings stretching out to drape over her green hide, the sails billowing dramatically before settling over his little princess. Yasminath? She loves everything, don't let her fool you. « Hello. »
The realm of shadows increases, by which we mean that Garouth spreads his wings slightly to accompany the rumble that is not actually just reverb from Leirith's bass… not that anyone could be reasonably expected to know that, let's be honest. That gold? She loud. « I see them. » Garouth speaks simply, the words dappled in shadows that hold depth in their shades and hints of dark night forest behind. His wings fold again as he turns his head to brush muzzle to the queen's bent head-knob (it's probably his fault, he broke it) before turning to observe their visitors once again. « I am no queen, » Garouth says probably unnecessarily, though it's with a leaf-rustling breeze of amusement stirring those dark branches as the shadows of his mind extend to meet the two visitors. « But those who would love Xanadu are welcome here. » The leaves blowing in his mind's wind turn to flower-petals as they leave the shadows - roses and daisies, fluttering in red and white. He follows his mind with his body, moving down the hill at a leisurely pace. Being dignified is apparently his job… because it's definitely not Leirith's.
All of that dignity is definitely Garouth's. Leirith is more like a rhinoceros. In heat. And all the dragons are men rhinos. All of them. « HELLO SMALL BEAUTY. » Leirith booms, those sails snapping out again perhaps in an attempt to mimic Nymionth's regality and Extra Dramatic Flair (which complements her Extra Dramatic Existence) despite the fact that no anime-breezes sweep through the meadows to make her wings do anything more than just go on forever. There's nothing regal or (as already established) dignified about her, not when she greets Yasminath, not when she takes the abuse (read: SWEET DRAGON LOVE) to her wonky head-knob (which earns a nip to the jagged edges of Garouth's pre-torn, badass wings for his trouble while he meanders by), and certainly not when that attention falls on the bronze. There's amusement that greets his greeting, a thundering of sound that seems to echo Garouth's words and rebound them because clearly she thought that was funny and perhaps Leirith is not at all prepared for so much formality because even other dragons tend to shun her. « YOU MAY CALL ME FEARLESS LEADER. » Leirith informs, no hint of serious demand in her voice, just more of that depthless, unyielding good-nature and humor (that sometimes means she tells not-so-funny jokes and really inappropriate times). « AND A HELLO, LITTLE BADASS. » And there she goes, on legs that are too short to be anything short of awkward, following after Garouth with bounds, and leaps, and the occasional pounce that sees her chasing her tail, then scrambling to catch back up (then weaving around behind him and — listen, she is a huge massive ball of energy). « Garouth! We should convince the minions to paint you gold. » And yep, there's that jaw, coming unhinged as she bobs her head and turns it towards the slightly elder dragon. LAUGHING AT YOU. SHE DOING IT. « Then you and Zekath can make BABIES! » That's not how any of this works, Leirith.
And Yasminath is a (relatively) TINY ball of energy! Who is currently doing her best to wiggle and bounce and play while SIMULTANEOUSLY being cuddled up and cocooned in massive, billowing bronze wing. Nymionth can definitely do the greeting's thing. Yasminath will do the giggling thing. And between all of them, there will be enough light and mirth and gleeful joy to drown out any shadows that dare to come near! Even if those shadows are Garouth-sized and Garouth-in-fact. The leadership-pair are regarded with unabashed curiosity and innocent wonder. « Nice to meet you, FEARLESS LEADER! » she declares, because yes. She's totally taken that request as legit and will forever address Leirith as such (until she forgets). « I do love Xanadu, » she repeats although, yes. It is very true that Yasminath basically loves everything. A tip of her head, and she regards Leirith's 'laughing' face, and promptly attempts to mimic it. It's… not so successful on little green dragons, but she's having a lot of fun doing it.
« Well, no. » Nymionth admits in the wake of Garouth's point. « But the sentiment remains true. » At the burst of flowers joining his own, the younger bronze relaxes, his wing readjusting it's drape over Yasminath to be more decorous then protective in nature. « Fearless Leader of Xanadu, of course. » Because Kayeth is their fearless leader, and Nymionth is a loyal creature at his core. Course, it is the lack of seriousness that eases him, a hint of amusement dancing at the edges of his mindvoice as he watches the approaching pair. It's Leirith's movements, oddly reminscent of Yasminath's for Nymionth that stirs a rise in amusement from the younger bronze. It's Yasminath's attempts to make laughing face that has Nymionth momentarily taken aback, his amusement coming in the form of a burst of many colored roses swirling in the air. « You look like you are trying to eat your own face, » he points out.
« Zekath and I do not need any help, » is what Garouth has to say about Leirith's TERRIBLE IDEA. « If I were gold, there would be no place for the humans anymore. The hatchlings would have no minions… not even disappointing ones. » TRAGIC. And never mind the undercurrent of amusement beneath the sedate tones of his mind, the stir of leaves and the chitter of squirrels before they scamper away to hoard more nuts against the coming winter. Dark days are coming! But those shadows don't encroach on Yasminath's mind, at least - though the trees keep their darkness beneath them, branches tangled thickly to hide the secrets of the wood. « It is a noble sentiment, » he replies to Nymionth. « We wish well to Fort, also. » Even if he's being less formal about his niceties. Still, they're pretty much the same sentiments, right? « You may not call me fearless leader, but you may call me Garouth. »
« INCORRECT. » Leirith booms, spun sugar permeating and perhaps scenting some of those roses, the boom of bass and drums making those unlucky to cross mindscapes shiver and lose some of their petals — but none of their beauty. They are just changed, to accomodate her in that shared space. « JUST FEARLESS LEADER. » Blue and green and cheer; there is no real correction contained, just more laughter, more good-natured humor because she is probably not serious but she is definitely amused. And all that amusement strays back to Yasminath, wraps up curiosity and wonder in her own version of those two things — things that have never left her, things that may never even if Leirith is less childish (in the sense of being unaware) and more rambunctious with a pointed disregard for the ugliness in reality. Or perhaps an appreciation of it; an understanding of Bad Things that makes it not so scary or, if scary, of very little consequence. The point is this: she is undaunted and undeterred and there's not an ounce of queenly demand or firmness to be found in all those bulky, boxy bones and she sees that in Yasminath and she likes it. « DO NOT LISTEN TO HIM. YOU LOOK BADASS. TILT YOUR HEAD MORE THIS WAY. » And Leirith demonstrates as Garouth brings in the stability to the Xanadu-side of things. There's appreciation there for her bronze (not that he is hers but he is of her home and LISTEN EVERYBODY IS HERS ANYWAY JUST ACCEPT IT) and his sense of humor. She comes to a halt, to plop her bulk down RIGHT THERE BESIDE BABY DRAGONS who are maybe NOT SO MUCH BABIES NOW BUT TAKE A WING BLANKET ANYWAY because Leirith has no shame. And if she loses a wing, wellllll… she'll still have her other one, won't she. « So we would all die! » SUNBRIGHT CHEER, laughter that chases Garouth's vision of If He Were A Gold because she thinks that's, « Badass! »
« I'm not! » Trying to eat her own face. « I'm trying to do… that thing… » that Leirith is doing. But Yasminath isn't sure what it is, or how to do it, and so it is very likely that she's botching it entirely. Because she is. A sigh, a little pout, and she gives up the attempt. « But you are fearless, » she notes, « and you ARE a leader… » and so, in Yasminath's mind, the title still fits even if Garouth rejects it. « Yes, » is added quickly, a happy trill in the back of her throat as she turns to nudge affectionately at Nymionth's shoulder, « Fearless Leader of Xanadu, » because undoubtedly, it is Kayeth and Velokraeth that lead them back home. Fearlessly. Of course, now Leirith is correcting Nymionth's correction, which just has Yasminath all sorts of confused about it all. And so she gives up on titles and proper addresses, and settles for attempting Badassery of the highest order with Leirith. A tilt of her head, a slack of her jaw, an attempt to laugh even though she's utterly and completely terrible at it, nevermind not being built for it in the first place. But she can mimic the feeling with moonlight and twinkling bells and a wash of glee for the additional wing blanketing her. « It's fun, at least! » she decides, thrilled to pieces that she's smooshed between her most favorite bronze on one side, and her new-found favorite gold on the other.
« I am called Nymionth. Well met, Garouth.» The greetings are uttered as he lowers his head, crooning at the excited Yasminath before adding. « And this is Yasminath. » It is the laughter-laced correction that has Nymionth's head raising, a burst of brightly colored roses joining his chiming of « Fearless Leader. » Course, they are being cuddled and Nymionth cannot remember a time when /that/ has happened before. For a moment, the young bronze is nonpulsed before he simply settles in and accepts the inevitable. With Yasminath confused, Nymionth exhales a low croon, a swirl of yellow and orange roses surrounding her as he nudges her with his snout. « Some things just are. And you should continue to eat your face if it pleases you to do so. » She'll still be a cutie, even with half a face!
« It would be spoken of for ages, » Garouth admits to Leirith's claims of badassery. « Until everyone died. » DOOM AND GLOOM, though… his tone is amused, bright like the autumn leaves when the frost has just begun to crisp them and make webworked patterns against the ground, the sort that shine in the light and crunch underfoot in the darkness. He acknowledges Nymionth's greeting with a dip of his head and rustle of leaves, one that shifts with a fruit-falling plop of amusement to Yasminath… though it's not for her attempted facial expression. « How do you know? » he asks her, taking a seat and tucking his tail against Leirith's other side as he speaks to the green. « Have you seen others follow me? Have you sought through my mind to see if there is any fear? » There's a seriousness to the questions, even if they're bound to be at least somewhat rhetorical. « Appearances can deceive you, if you put your trust in them. »
THEY WILL NOT FOOOOORCE US. THEY WILL STOP DEGRADING USSSS. THEY WILL NOT CONTROL USSSS. WE WILLLL BEEEE VICTORIOUUUUUUUS! What? No dragon uprisings? Well okay then. WAY TO TAKE THE FUN OUT OF THIS POSE. (Okay, so maybe the song is just stuck in there and needed outting BECAUSE REASONS, THAT'S WHY.) There are feathers that come, carried on the wubwubwub of over-enthusiastic minds to rest on the forest floor amid all those autumn leaves, getting caught on some of the thorns and bramble that always accompany the beauty of roses. Leirith laughs, absorbs and reflects humor and stretches out her other wing to rest over Garouth. Because she is massive and she's got the wingspan. Nevermind the Fearless Leader thing; Leirith offers nothing more, just a hint of laughter, more of that amusement as green and blue focuses on Yas and — « VERY GOOD! Does she not look good? » Leirith asks of both bronzes, genuine affection swept through that brain-rattling connection. « You will be a badass yet! » And then she's looking from Garouth (BENEATH HER WING, HELLO, SHE OFFERS HIDEY PLACES) to Tas and Nym. « My friends also call me Leirith, » she adds on, because she is the only one who didn't give an actual name. « At least they would, if I had any. » CUE THE LAUGHTER. AT HERSELF. Worst.
« Everyone would die?! » Yasminath? Not great with the sarcasm, and while she's *pretty sure* they're joking… it's enough to have her looking a touch more concerned and tucking up against Nymionth. A little check-in with Kez, and he's confirmed that no, it is not possible to paint a bronze to a gold, and the world is not about to end, and baby dragons will have plenty of minions (disappointing or otherwise) available for them. Phew. At least it's a fleeting fear, and pretty quick to vanish in the face of things MUCH more fun to consider. « I don't want to eat my face, » she asserts, though it's giggling and giddy amusement for the idea that comes with the words, rather than insult or irritation. Garouth's question has her looking thoughtful (and more than a little confused) as she puzzles through this. In the end, she goes for the obvious, « You are Garouth. Which means your human is D'lei. He is the Weyrleader. That makes you a leader. » Logic, courtesy of K'zre (who definitely fed her the answer, the cheater). « But I guess you could be scared… But you don't look scared, » and apparently, that's good enough for Yasminath to decide he is fearless. A bump of her nose for Nymionth, then a bump of her nose to Leirith, and Yasminath hums her delight at being the meat of a dragon sammich. « You have friends! I am your friend! » Instant best-friend, right here! « Nymionth will be your friend. Won't you, Nymionth? »
Glancing between Yasminath and Garouth at the bronze's question, Nymionth considers a moment before affording, « Yasminath sees the good in everyone. » And while her assumptions of goodness might be, upon occassion, mistaken, Nymionth has faith that she is generally correct. It's Yasminath's face eating attempts that has him distracted, Leirith's query met with what amounts to a chortle. « Definately Badass. » Which, no doubt, will be a word they drag back to Fort with them. « Of course,» He notes to Yasminath in tones that are unapologetically doting. « We will gladly call you Leirith,» he allows from beneath her wing. Of course, he is still trying to process the beneath the wing thing, but he's comfortable enough. «They are playing,» Nymionth assures Yasminath when she tucks up against him. « It is very unlikely that Garouth will have eggs and less likely that everyone would die. » She is very literally, his darling little green. « He is not scared. » Cause Nymionth? He would know.
« She is herself, » Garouth answers Leirith's question about Yasminath, with a wisp of cloud that alters form before it fades. « Though perhaps she is also a reflection. » He bumps at Leirith's wing, lifting it up with an arch of his neck as he just stands right up underneath it. « I am Garouth, » he says, and turns his gaze to Yasminath. « And my rider is D'lei. If you mean that I am the Weyrleader's dragon, then you are correct… but that is not the only thing that is meant by saying leader, and a Weyrleader may not be a worthy leader. » He steps forward, leaving Leirith's wing behind, and turns his gaze to Nymionth. « It is to be hoped that your confidence will not lead you into trouble. » Which means… what? Garouth doesn't explain. He doesn't even bother trying to claim that he is Leirith's friend, either, because that's just the kind of dragon he is. At least he says, « I am required elsewhere, » before he takes a leap-launch to the skies and flies away… not that he actually says where, or for what, or… any of those minor details that they don't actually need (but might want).
And there is a quietness that comes, perhaps a dimming because Leirith is closing down those broadcast airways to focus mainly on one — on Garouth. But there's no hint of anything other than Leirith's usual humor, even as she keeps her wing unhelpfully drapped, and then tucks it in against her side once the bronze finally departs from beneath it. « She is! » comes back down all pathways with a boom of sound, an amusement that… perhaps brushes over reflections and moves instead to hear the rest of what Garouth imparts. There's laughter — good-natured because she is Leirith, a muzzle that drags the length of him as he goes, chasing after him with a, « GOODBYE BADASS! » as he launches into the sky and Leirith shifts muscles to peek beneath her other wing at the two dragons there. Yas's nuzzle is returned with enthusiastic gusto, with a nip to the tips of her knobs that ends in a bonk down against Nym's jaw. « But my Garouth is right! You are you, and he is he, and I am I! » Laughter, a twist of maw to bunt and nuzzle and another shift as she moves to stand and stretches. « But you are definitely badass. And so is he! » BOOM BOOM BOOM. Radiant enthusiasm, infectious joy, Leirith shifts on paws and talons and bunts babies ONE MORE TIME. TAKE HER LOVE. TAKE IT ALL. « Goodbye, new friends! » IS THAT HER TONGUE? IT IS. SHE TOTALLY LICKED THEM BOTH ACROSS THE SNOUTS. And THAR SHE GOES, a flick of tail before that massive body bounds with an insane amount of power up and into the air. She might not be graceful or dignified, but she is a powerful beast. « DO NOT DO ANYTHING I WOULD NOT DO, LITTLE BADASSES! » Which… isn't a very concrete set of rules.