Elsvruth Has A Plan (for Graysen!)

Monaco Bay Weyr - Feeding Grounds
Jungle screens in this enormous pasture on all sides, protecting the resident herdbeasts from the daily activity of the Weyr. A likewise huge run-in shelter has been built out from another bubble cavern, large enough to shelter a decent-sized herd from inclement weather. It sits broodingly over the black-paved path that leads back towards the clearing, like a gaping maw from which extends a shoulder-high stone fence that encircles the pasture as far as the eye can see.


Somewhere without the huge crowds that clutter the beaches of Monaco during a summer afternoon? Yes please! This is the sole reason Graysen is at the feeding grounds, leaning back against a tree at the edge of the jungle with a bowl of nuts to snack on and his massive gray canine half curled around him with her shaggy head in his lap. The boy's eyes are closed and he looks like he's at least half asleep, a book laying open across his shins.

Overhead, the form of Elsvruth manifests, all shadows and champagne - one moment, he's hanging in the air and, in the next, he's caught himself a suitable beast for snacking on. The efficiency is incredible, frankly; no muss, no fuss. I'aija's not long after, though he has a snack of his own; a waxed paper packet filled with jerky that he's presently chewing his way through. His attention fixes briefly on the pens, but something else catches his attention and his mood brightens. Without preamble, the Weyrleader ambles over to where Graysen and canine are resting - napping? - and stops a few feet away. "Hey." Just enough to hopefully stir the youth to wakefulness before: "May I pet your canine?"

The canine notices that they aren't alone well before Graysen does. She lifts her head, growling softly as the bronze selects his snack. It's not a vicious sound, or even really that much of a warning. Not for the dragon, anyway. The sound has the boy opening his eyes and pushing himself further upright against his chosen tree, the book closing as his legs shift and it falls between. And then there's a voice. Hazel-gray eyes widen for a moment and he swallows hard, though the beast at his side just turns her attention from the feeding bronze to his rider, boofing quietly and wagging her tail, "Um… I g-guess so?" One hand rests on shaggy gray shoulders and the canine's tail thumps faster, "Sh-she's friendly."

The bronze eats quickly, crunching his way relentlessly through the unfortunate creature. But his attention turns, inexorably, to where his rider is - and that, unfortunately, puts both lad and canine squarely in his sights. I'aija, meanwhile, settles into a crouch next to Graysen and canine, a scrap of jerky in his mouth. His free hand reaches to give the pooch a good, solid rubbing between the ears and over her snout. "What's her name?" There's a pause, then he looks over his shoulder at the bloodied-maw bronze. "That's Elsvruth. Don't mind him! He's harmless. Really."

The moment that there's another hand on her, the canine is all wiggles, jaw dropping open and tongue lolling in a happy canid grin. There's a soft laugh from Graysen at that and he gives her a couple of pats on her side, "Tila." Pat, pat, scritch, "I'm G-Gray." It's only when the bronze is introduced that the boy's attention turns to him, appearning unfazed by the bloody maw. At least he's not squeemish? When the petting pauses, Tila stretches her snoot out toward the jerky hanging from the rider's mouth, sniffing conspicuously, "Tila, no." The tanner apprentice's voice is firm but quiet, and, for once, free of stuttering when talking to his furry friend.

Wiggly puppers are best puppers! That seems to be I'aija's assessment, anyway. He cute-talks at Tila around his mouthful of jerky, eventually setting his packet on the ground (oh well) to let him get both hands on the canine. It's only when she reaches for the snack that he pulls back and quickly chews the meat enough to get it fully into his mouth. "It's okay," is worked around the mouthful. "She can have the rest. Well met, Tila and Gray? Gray. I'm I'aija." The mouthful of jerky is shifted in his mouth, making one cheek bulge a bit. It's comical, really. "What are you reading?" In the pens, Elsvruth just stares, unmoving.

Tila is in canine heaven when she finds herself the center of attention. The rest of the jerky is given a longing look, but a glare from Graysen has her settling back down, leaning into the pets and huffing happily. There's a bright smile from the boy at the canine's obedience and an approving pat before he turns his attention back to the bronzerider. His eyes widen again at the man's name, and he looks a little surprised, "W-w-weyrl-leader." It's a greeting, of sorts, and he looks shocked at the comical bulge. For a moment, he seems too shocked to answer the question, the slightest bit pale under his tan. He licks his lips before he's able to answer, "I-it's just a b-book about t-t-tanning techniques." Unconsciously, he fingers the apprentice knot on his shoulder.

It's quickly chewed and swallowed, with him turning his head to cough a few times when something goes down the wrong way. Once it's all settled, though, it's all eyes on Gray and his canine companion. "I'aija's just fine! Isn't that right, Tila?" Not that he expects an answer from the canine, but hey. Stranger things have happened. I'aija tilts his head to look at the book, then back at Graysen. "Tanning techniques, eh?" His tongue works a bit in his mouth, thoughtful. "Are you going to be tanning the leather for dragon straps some day?" Elsvruth, unobserved, begins to move closer. Slow. Steady. Unmoving when looked at directly; otherwise? Creepy.

The canine boofs quietly in response to the question, bumping against the older man's hands again. Apparently, that is her answer! Graysen flushes and ducks his head, nodding rather than asnwering the insistance on calling such an estemed personage by name rather than position. The next question has him blinking several times and shrugging, "P-probably." He'd like to be useful one day instead of just a drain on craft and Weyr resources, "Th-that's gonna b-be turns away." He doesn't seem to notice the creeping dragon.

There's a low whistle for that and I'aija rocks back on his heels some, elbows settling on his thighs and hands loosely hanging between knees. "That long? I guess I don't really know much about, well, the back-end of making the leather. Not like I know his back-end," there's a gesture to where Elsvruth was a moment ago, but he's not there. Nope. Now he's practically behind his rider, his massive head lowering ominously behind the man. He touches his bloodied nose to the man's back, thoroughly ruining the material. "Ah- shells. Elsvruth. I'll get you in a minute." It takes a moment. Then two. Something passes between the pair before, finally, the Weyrleader lifts a hand to pull it through his hair. "How much do you like to work with leather, Gray? This big lug seems to think you'd be better off cutting lengths and lengths of it someday."

Graysen shrugs, "I h-haven't been d-d-doin' it f-for very long." And there's a lot to learn, apparently? The mention of Elsvruth's back end earns the enevitable snicker and some of the tension that's been tight across his shoulders bleeds out. Though the sudden nearness of the bronze has the kid's eyes widening a little. He doesn't seem scared, really. Just startled. How much- He blinks rapidly, looking confused, "Uh… I g-grew up a-a-around b-beasts. J-just kinda made s-sense f-for me to be a t-t-tanner." Wait… "Wh-what?" What is happening?! Tila's tail beats the ground rapidly and she looks from her person to rider and back again, almost expectantly.

"I mean, there's no guarantee," I'aija continues as he pushes to his feet, momentarily shoving the bronze's nose out of the way. He fumbles in his pockets, then settles on a cloth to rub the worst of the blood off of that offensive - and, now, deeply offended - snout. "There never is, really, but- he seems to think you have what it takes to try." His grin is amiable, a bit boyish at the edges, as he digs in his pockets for round two and fishes up a white knot. This is held out oh-so-casually, balanced on the tips of his fingers. "And, if not, you can go back to your beasts and hides, eh? Sound fair?"

"I-" Woah. Graysen still seems a little confused, not to mention overly awed, looking back and forth between rider and bloody mawed dragon, "I m-mean… If y-y-you're s-sure?" Hesitantly, he reaches out to accept the new knot, Tila barking happily and bumping her head against his arm, "I c-can a-always go b-back to my c-craft if it d-doesn't work out." Just like I'aija just said.

Satisfied, Elsvruth noses into I'aija's hand - the cloth-bearing one, that is - then turns to amble off. It's too commonplace for the Weyrleader to be bewildered; his attention holds on Graysen with an easy smile. "Of course! I mean, I guess it's technically up to your Master or Journeyman, but it's never been an issue in the past. And if it is," for some inconceivable reason, or so his tone suggests, "I can have a word. C'mon, let's get you set up in the barracks. I'm not sure if Tila has another place to stay, but- worst case, I can help figure something out."

Graysen lets himself be helped up, picking up the book as he does, Tila rising gracefully at his side as he asks in a small voice, "Sh-she can't s-stay with m-me?" He makes a face, "O-of course sh-she can't." There's a sigh, "I-I'll f-figure it out." He doesn't want to put the Weyrleader out, after all.

There's a moment's thought, then: "Tila can stay with us, if that works for you? You can come see her any time you want and she'll be spoiled rotten in the meantime." Assuming Wendyn doesn't turn him out on his ear for bringing a canine in, but that's a future-I'aija problem. Oh well! He reaches to pat the lad's shoulder, then lead him along the way, with the jerky forgotten (unless Tila remembers!)

Oh, Tila remembers. The moment it seems like everyone's attention is elsewhere, she snatches the package up, tail flagging happily. Graysen looks stunned at the offer to let his canine stay with the Weyrleaders, jaw hanging open for a moment, "Th-th-thank you!" The canine bounds back and forth between the pair of them, barking in excitement, and stirring up the herd to run the other direction, "Sh-she won't be a-any t-trouble. She's a g-good girl." The absolute best, if anyone asks him!

"She's the best girl," I'aija corrects with a laugh. "But, she'll have fine company with Wendyn and Iawyn," who, hopefully, will enjoy a fluffy canine friend for a time. Toddlers: they are a mystery. And then it's off, with candidate and canine in tow and Elsvruth- somewhere. Hopefully out of trouble, but who can say, really.


Add a New Comment
Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License