A Dangerous Game

Half Moon Bay Weyr - West Bowl
The western end of the great bowl of the Weyr. You can see the steep walls of the crater to the south and south, with small openings and ledges in the cliffside. These are the individual weyrs of dragons and their riders. To the west you can see the great natural arch, and the lagoon, to the east, the center of the bowl. To the south you see a large natural cave opening that has been made into a tunnel. It is the main entrance to the Weyr from the road to Half Moon Bay Hold.

It is an evening like any other at Half Moon Bay, really; the weyrlings are released to enjoy their free time and one particular pair is en route from goodness knows where to some other, equally unknowable location. It might help if there was some kind of direction at work, but there is none - Valigath has taken to "dancing" in the bowl, her steps surprisingly light despite her build. Not too far off, Aglaia's occupied with a few heavy bags full of stuff. The observant might note that the gold is prancing in circles around her lifemate, in fact. Unhelpfully, the curiously marked dragon is without her straps and, thus, completely useless to help. How convenient.

It might be hard to notice that the man walking towards the woman with a quick step. "Here." He calls out, moving to the woman's side quickly to help her with the bags. His own dragon, nearly black beyond belief is behind him and stretches out to his huge form, making himself much taller and longer… and much narrower to give the queen some space.

The sudden approach of another is enough to elicit a strange sound from the young queen; her maw gapes into a terrible smile and Valigath utters a tittering sound that tries to be laughter - and perverts the sound horribly. Her wings flare, sightless "eyes" fixing on the newly arrived pair, which leaves Aglaia to huff a bit and glare up at the wretched beast of a gold. "Would you stop that, please? Honestly. They're not here to-" That bit's cut off abruptly as the weyrling's reminded of the visiting rider's presence. "Sorry, sorry! I- oh, you don't have to do that," she's quick to assure, though she does, after a moment, relinquish one of the bags - which seems to have a large, heavy jar within it, full of sloshing liquid. "And, um. Half Moon's duties," is, she thinks, the right way to go about this. Sort of.

"Not here to what?" G'ir asks, turning to grin towards the gold that gives him a genuine smile and garbled form of laughter. She may look monsterous, but it's far different than having that monster inside of your noggin like G'ir does with Zimraith. Zim gives a short, tight wuff to the gold as if to remind her that yes, he /is/ there." G'ir looks to the younger rider. "Ah, Xanadu's duties to Half Moon and her queens." He chuckles, shifting the jar into his arms. It's pretty impressive because G'ir is /short/. Shorter than Aglaia herself.

"It's, um. It's not important. She's crazy." Matter-of-fact, that. Aglaia quirks a slight eyebrow at the situation as a whole, but it doesn't seem to be because of his feat of strength; he's a rider, after all! Riders are supposed to be strong, right? Exactly. "So- ah. What brings you out this way, um-" Oh, for crying out loud. "Drat it all. Sorry. I'm Aglaia. That's Valigath. It's a pleasure to meet you." And Valigath's already on the move, gliding along with preternatural grace to get a much closer look at Zimraith - indeed, personal space is not her "thing" and she has no shame in poking and prodding at him if that's what it takes!

"It's alright, my name is G'ir." He says, "And I'm just travelling on my day off." A shrug comes to his shoulders. "Gotta escape the paperwork from time to time." He tells her, laughing a bit as he notices Valigath's prodding of Zimraith. Zim doesn't take too much to mind, he's sort on intrigued by this gold and he looks at her as well, nuding back when she gets too pushy

Oh, how that glasgow grin of Valigath's simply seems to split ever-wider when he endures her efforts to examine him. The tittering sound emerges again and, at the first signs of him pushing back, she dances just out of reach with that curious grace of hers. Aglaia cuts a glance askance at the cackling queen, blows out a breath, and looks to G'ir again with an apologetic smile. "Ah, I see," says she. "Nice to meet you, G'ir. Though- I have to wonder just how much paperwork they bury you under over at Xanadu." Her grin tilts a bit. "It can't be that bad, can it?"

"Don't apologize for her, she's fine." G'ir tells Aglaia as he laughs. "Tons, absolute tons." He admits. "Our seniors retired suddenly after our Weyrling class ended.. and so.." He shrugs. "It's been chaos." Zimraith is nearly as large as Valigath and he opens his own mouth wide, showing rows and rows of his ominious looking teeth in a serpentine grin. He moves quickly and stops, breathing out a sharp breath of a wuff to see if he can catch the gold off balance.

"Oh, no," Aglaia replies in deadpan, "There aren't enough apologies for her. Not in this world or beyond *between*." Her sudden spate of seriousness dissolves into a more amiable mood after that, while her brows pinch just a bit at his explanation. "I'd heard about that, actually. So strange to happen then- ah. And none of the juniors have gone up to take her place?" All this while, she's forgotten her burden and it reminds her by setting her arms into a quivery state for just a moment. She shifts the burden and puts it down, with only a flicked look to the gold that's presently flirting with disaster - and certainly not the bronze. The gold's maw splits as wide as it can, her eyes whirling with manic glee at the game. She is no serpent, not her, but she's a well-balanced beast and the serpentine striking of Zimraith only finds her prancing in place again - albeit with her wings flared and warning "eyes" wide open.

"First time I've seen him play like that." G'ir admits before he shrugs. "It's just a mess, I don't think any of the juinors want it." He admits before he motions to the burdens. "Where are we taking these?" The question is normal, of course. The bronze moves in his serpentine fashion, slithering this way and that, chasing the dancing gold as she bounces and flails around. Zim seems to be having a great deal of fun.

"Weird." Aggie watches the pair at play, her mouth drawn tightly to one side for a long moment. "Anyway," best to push that sight aside, clearly, as she focuses on more important matters. "Ah- well, their golds have to rise at some point. I mean, they can't… not." Pause. "Can they?" Is she hopeful? Maybe, but it's for all the wrong (or right!) reasons entirely. "Oh! Oh, drat it. I was going to get these over to the Lagoon so I could get her oiled away from the others. She claims they sabotage everything." Valigath, however, seems to have no thoughts of oiling in her mind; she's too busy playing as a feline to the serpent, with each flare of wings sufficing as an approximation of an arched back before she flows fluidly into her next move. That swiped paw? Is not at all symbolic. It's playful, sure, but she plays with her claws -out-.

That's a dangerous game to play with Zimraith and the large bronze barely moves out of the way of the swipe, but he's noticed the claws. His own come out, long deadly black daggers and his hammer like tail, long and just as snakelike, swings back and forth.. "ENOUGH." That deep baritone voice comes from G'ir in a surprisingly strong and commanding manner. It causes Zim to stop his motions completely. "That's enough playing." He motions tightly with his right hand, Zimraith backing away from the gold for now. "I have no idea."

In that, they're both of the same mind - the riders, that is. "Stop that, right now." Aglaia's tone is firm and low, made more ominous for the lack of volume. The gold stops grudgingly and withdraws but a step. The girl-half of the equation pinches the bridge of her nose, heaves a sigh, and mutters for the hundredth time, "Sorry. She's- no one will play with her. You see why." « How terribly DISAPPOINTING. » The game ends and the young queen is displeased, wings mantling as she settles back on her haunches. Her mental presence is a blast of smoke and fire, unconcerned with being "gentle" or "sweet". Rather, the mechanical grinding that serves as the backdrop of her shrill voice is set to an intense, troubling level. « Disappointing, » she reiterates for Zimraith's benefit, though there's a bit of irritation flung in Aglaia's direction. She eventually stalks a short distance away, tail flicking with agitation all the while.

"They're a little too much alike, I think." G'ir says. "Zim seems to think he always knows the best way to do it… and /yes/ she could of hurt you and /you/ would have hurt her, which I'm not in any way about to let happen…" The young bronzer switches conversations mid sentence. "Sorry about this."

"Maybe, maybe, maybe." Aglaia winces at some secret sending from the queen and it takes significant force of will to send Valigath onward, toward the lagoon. She does this mostly by dragging her claws and tail, while audibly wailing with lament. "Too much alike," the weyrling rider ultimately concludes, if a moment or two after G'ir's come to the same conclusion. "And if he- um. Oh, that's not even a thought I want to have," she blurts and shifts awkwardly to face toward the lagoon. "It's- no, it's okay. I mean. That- what you just did, that's the story of my life." She tries on a smile and it goes immediately lopsided. "I think I can take that back and get it to the Lagoon if you want to put some safe distance between the two of them. I'd, um. I'd understand."

"He's under control," G'ir says, his own will firm as he looks over towards Zimrath who has adopted the mantra of 'statue' for the time being. "I can also send him off exploring for a bit to keep him out of your hair." He hefts the jug again. "Lets get this over to the lagoon, so you can make sure that your girl gets the oiling that she needs. That's too important to miss."

"No, no," Aggie says quickly. "He's fine. She's just… not. Ever." But Valigath's at the Lagoon already and waiting - mostly by prancing in place, while uttering a fairly regular tittering sound. "Thank you," is pitched lower and purely for G'ir's ears as she hastens toward the Lagoon as well. And, of course, once there, the oiling will commence - directed, as ever, by the youngling gold's commands. Of course, Aglaia will happily converse with G'ir until such time as he sees fit to depart - to do otherwise would be rude, after all!

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