Post by Mik on Jun 28, 2012 15:39:23 GMT -5
((OOC Note: No one; human, dragon, or beast, can understand what it is that’s making them restless, but it is something instinctive that even those of the Future Time do not understand for a while yet. Everyone can have their dragons be restless, the Future dragons even more so, but, as I said, no one can understand what is going on just yet…and the time is in the dark of late night, early morning...So post as you wish on your various charries' reactions to the restlessness...))
Far to the north in the barren lands that seldom see a soul’s visit, snow billowed and gathered in the frigid night air, sometimes falling in ice chunks from the instant freeze of cold and soft precipitation instead of flitting back and forth with gulls of wind. An eerie stillness held the land in a trance as snow mixed with gray ash-like matter, getting blown on the icy winds to color patches of falling snow and ice and eventually settled in gray patches throughout the unchecked landscape below. The heavy blankets and drifts of snow would never let the ash settle further than a hand’s breadth deep, remaining far from the frozen ground tucked snugly beneath the weathered blanket. Patches of ice remained in tact, the gray ash/snow mix settling in swirls and clumps on it’s surface of dull and shiny pieces. Trees held patches of gray upon their branches and boughs, but the snow and ice that already coated them kept the décor on a pristine edge of beauty and oddity rolled into one.
No one would ever see the deadly beauty that now dusted the landscape as the first souls to come to this land would not do so until the winter snows had melted away several months yet to come. No legend or lore would tell of the swirls, patches, and dustings of the cold, gray ash unless it came from the chilly High Reaches Territory, but any records or the aerial view of this anomaly were wiped into oblivion in the Disaster that had shaken Tristar Weyr to pieces a few turns past, leaving hides burning or buried in cooling lava or heavy rock fall. The Red Star’s dim glow through the ashen snowy skies was only a wink of a memory to a dragon, wher, or firelizard’s instinct, something that triggered an underlying urge to do something about it, yet they would not know what was driving their urge until it was documented several days away in some lightly populated area. The Age of the Dragon’s Duties was coming more quickly than anyone could have anticipated…
Meanwhile, many clicks to the south in the still of the frigid night:
M’cleod had been unable to sleep no matter how he laid, sat, or even busied himself to tire himself. Some unknown feeling of dread or worry was touching his conscience, and try as he might, he just could not get over the fact that he needed to be doing something. What that something was lie too far from his mind to get a grip on to understand, but something was wrong somewhere and right now. It was something that he felt like he should do something about it. Worried that he would upset Taenia any further, the brownrider got out from under the furs yet again and tucked them around his Lover. Giving her a parting kiss on the cheek, he slipped his boots and jacket on and slipped quietly out to the divider where his small dark brown lie in a fidgety sleep. So that was why he could not sleep. Duncanth was feeling restless, hence the reason that he had been feeling restless, but why was the dragon feeling dread and urgency?
Sensing his Rider’s presence, Duncanth’s multifaceted eyes opened to reveal a color that rarely graced the calm brown’s being; that of a yellowy white with a tinge of red and whirling quickly. [[Mac-Mine, somethin’ happens and I wanna do somethin’ about it,]] the dark dragon said as his eyes fell on his lifemate. Like his Rider, he could not grip what it was that he wanted to do, but it was something that he absolutely knew for a certain that he had to do whatever it was that this urge was connected to. [I want to fly, Mac-Mine,] the dark dragon asked suddenly, having an inkling of what his urge was wanting him to do.
M’cleod smiled and stepped up to his dragon, laying a hand on the warm, nearly black hide. {{Let’s check the weather first,}} he thought to his companion with a smile, having a little bit of an answer to the mystery that was at the root of Duncanth’s restlessness.
[[Yes, let’s,]] Duncanth replied, standing and nosing his way outside beyond the thrush curtain that gave him a protection from the winter’s chill. Outside, snow swirled everywhere with the gusts that whipped it through the chasm of Izuko Weyr. Up on the Plateau was probably a chilly gale wind that hardly ceased as the wind whistling its way through the canyon only eased momentarily, wrapping dragon and rider in swirls of snow as they made their way toward the snowy ledge’s edge to look at the dark blue-white of their home from Delta to Falls.
Far to the north in the barren lands that seldom see a soul’s visit, snow billowed and gathered in the frigid night air, sometimes falling in ice chunks from the instant freeze of cold and soft precipitation instead of flitting back and forth with gulls of wind. An eerie stillness held the land in a trance as snow mixed with gray ash-like matter, getting blown on the icy winds to color patches of falling snow and ice and eventually settled in gray patches throughout the unchecked landscape below. The heavy blankets and drifts of snow would never let the ash settle further than a hand’s breadth deep, remaining far from the frozen ground tucked snugly beneath the weathered blanket. Patches of ice remained in tact, the gray ash/snow mix settling in swirls and clumps on it’s surface of dull and shiny pieces. Trees held patches of gray upon their branches and boughs, but the snow and ice that already coated them kept the décor on a pristine edge of beauty and oddity rolled into one.
No one would ever see the deadly beauty that now dusted the landscape as the first souls to come to this land would not do so until the winter snows had melted away several months yet to come. No legend or lore would tell of the swirls, patches, and dustings of the cold, gray ash unless it came from the chilly High Reaches Territory, but any records or the aerial view of this anomaly were wiped into oblivion in the Disaster that had shaken Tristar Weyr to pieces a few turns past, leaving hides burning or buried in cooling lava or heavy rock fall. The Red Star’s dim glow through the ashen snowy skies was only a wink of a memory to a dragon, wher, or firelizard’s instinct, something that triggered an underlying urge to do something about it, yet they would not know what was driving their urge until it was documented several days away in some lightly populated area. The Age of the Dragon’s Duties was coming more quickly than anyone could have anticipated…
Meanwhile, many clicks to the south in the still of the frigid night:
M’cleod had been unable to sleep no matter how he laid, sat, or even busied himself to tire himself. Some unknown feeling of dread or worry was touching his conscience, and try as he might, he just could not get over the fact that he needed to be doing something. What that something was lie too far from his mind to get a grip on to understand, but something was wrong somewhere and right now. It was something that he felt like he should do something about it. Worried that he would upset Taenia any further, the brownrider got out from under the furs yet again and tucked them around his Lover. Giving her a parting kiss on the cheek, he slipped his boots and jacket on and slipped quietly out to the divider where his small dark brown lie in a fidgety sleep. So that was why he could not sleep. Duncanth was feeling restless, hence the reason that he had been feeling restless, but why was the dragon feeling dread and urgency?
Sensing his Rider’s presence, Duncanth’s multifaceted eyes opened to reveal a color that rarely graced the calm brown’s being; that of a yellowy white with a tinge of red and whirling quickly. [[Mac-Mine, somethin’ happens and I wanna do somethin’ about it,]] the dark dragon said as his eyes fell on his lifemate. Like his Rider, he could not grip what it was that he wanted to do, but it was something that he absolutely knew for a certain that he had to do whatever it was that this urge was connected to. [I want to fly, Mac-Mine,] the dark dragon asked suddenly, having an inkling of what his urge was wanting him to do.
M’cleod smiled and stepped up to his dragon, laying a hand on the warm, nearly black hide. {{Let’s check the weather first,}} he thought to his companion with a smile, having a little bit of an answer to the mystery that was at the root of Duncanth’s restlessness.
[[Yes, let’s,]] Duncanth replied, standing and nosing his way outside beyond the thrush curtain that gave him a protection from the winter’s chill. Outside, snow swirled everywhere with the gusts that whipped it through the chasm of Izuko Weyr. Up on the Plateau was probably a chilly gale wind that hardly ceased as the wind whistling its way through the canyon only eased momentarily, wrapping dragon and rider in swirls of snow as they made their way toward the snowy ledge’s edge to look at the dark blue-white of their home from Delta to Falls.
