Re: Training day... activate! (Tyne/ANY)


In another time, another place or even, another world, had any of the exchange been know to Tyne, she would have bluntly corrected the Bluerider and and their dragon that it was in fact *Farlith* who had dared to rise against Myrandith. That for whatever reason the young Istan Gold had been in a protectorate Hold she had no feasible reason to be in and that the sweet girl she had met at the Conclave had possibly done something incredibly foolish.

But that was then. 

As it was, all Tyne noted was the change in the woman's demeanour, the glassy eyed look of a draconic exchange and her hope wilted slightly, coiling in the pit of her belly like a cold tunnelsnake. In a split second she was convinced that a familiar judgement had been made and already felt the familiar tendrils of doubt and shame trying to gnaw at her.

Perturbed by the shift, Bobbin had reappeared, alighting on Tyne with a quizzical croon. Whistling to the flock, it was evident that the brown flit Chief took over the lead as the group continued to dart across the lake.

And then there was the gesture, the one that Tyne recognised as the Rider, unbidden or invited, had reached for the flask she carried. The presumptuousness of it sent a spark of annoyance through her that temporarily scattered her unease. Facially her face shimmered through the shift of emotions, with worry fleeting across her face only to turn into a slight narrowing of her eyes. 

"Is there something the matter?" She asked after several long seconds, not proffering the flask. "You look uncomfortable". A familiar streak was reading it's head, Myrandith's streak and her voice, whilst still polite, had lost a little of its previous cheeriness.

OoC: Genuinely couldn't tell you how this might go, especially if Sabato does want to make anything of the flight. No, she won't do permanent damage to Tyne, nor will Tyne do anything crazy like rip her eyeballs out :P I haven't actually played her encountering anyone from Ista yet who was there during the Flight and it's aftermath.

On Tue, 24 Mar 2020, 23:04 Jenna Cunningham, <jenna.layne.cunningham@...> wrote:

"Now I can get behind a drink," Sahari said, mistaking the flask immediately, and once again quietly praised her dragon's excellent judgement. His ability to - and only at a glance - pick out people who had The Right Stuff (whatever that stuff was, Sahari didn't know) had made him an excellent search rider in his time at Ista Weyr, and now it seemed to be paying off in dividends here, too. A drinking buddy. Maybe they could gripe together about Wingleaders and how they kept unfairly playing favourites, and how the status quo sucked.

Who is she, anyway? You talk to everybody around here. Maybe I'd recognize the green.

The uncertain pause before Oachayth replied set off alarm bells.

<<She rose against Farlith.>>

Gears cranked in Sahari's head as she processed that statement, even going so far as to turn her head and glance back toward where Oachayth now lounged in the shallows. One of his large eyes was open, watching her like she was a particularly clumsy hatchling meandering along the cliff's edge. Then: a sudden flicker of realization. She stiffened with her arm outstretched, hand held out toward the flask the other, younger woman carried.

Oh shit, it's that former gold rider. Her dragon is dead, you know. She killed someone.

She could feel the weight of her dragon's quiet sorrow, and felt her own rising anger match it. Stupid gold riders and their stupid machinations, fighting over empty halls. She almost turned around and left right there.

<<It was not her fault.>>

But she didn't.

"Oh." was all she said, caught out and no longer certain how to talk to her.

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