Nightfall. Or is it early dawn? It's hard to say, as the skies are still heavy with spring storms though no rain falls and the Weyr below remains a muddied and soggy mess. The winds are up, howling through crevices and over the walls and through the bowls as they gust. Up and down, up and down. No wonder that some will sleep restlessly tonight or fitfully. Inside the weyr, where it is warm and the winds are muffled so as not to disturb, Th'ero sleeps a sound, dead sleep. Velokraeth does too, curled comfortably in his wallow and likely with Varmiroth close by. Do dragons dream? Maybe, maybe not. But it is not a dream (or nightmare) that disturbs the pale, ugly bronze from his slumber and causes him to twitch and shift. It's a tickling of a familiar mind, long since gone from Fort and though forgotten in some senses, is remembered by others. Suddenly, Velokraeth's head lifts, cocked to the side, his body tense and wings flicking in a nervous rustling. In the next breath, he is lurching to his feet and probably disturbing his poor sleeping ledgemate in the process as he charges out silently to the ledge and rises to his haunches, wings half extended for balance… and facing southward.

Kimmila also sleeps deeply, though Varmiroth is roused by Velokraeth's movements. Instantly on alert, the blue moves swiftly to the bronze's side, head up, neck arched, thoughts open for…something. « What is it? Danger? » he asks, instinctively looking towards the sky, even though he's never fought Thread.

Velokraeth's head is still raised skywards, breath pluming out in white mist from his muzzle as though trying to 'listen' or seek something… only to utter a disappointed groan and sigh as he lowers himself back down. His wings fold and tuck up tight to his sides, his tail twitching and only when the tip of it accidentally bumps up against Varmiroth does he seem to be snapped from his spell. « … what, little brother? Ah. No, no danger. Did I wake you? » A distracted mind. His wine soaked thoughts when they brush against the blue's carry the scents of summer, of sun and baked stone and earth. Humid tropics and all the greenery within. Beneath it all, another ripple. Familiar. « I heard… a voice. I answered and at first I couldn't think it true… » Why wouldn't it be? Velokraeth snorts and the cranes his head skyward again. « Zuvaleyuth. I heard Zuvaleyuth, little brother. »

Varmiroth rumbles softly. « Yes. » And then he stretches and settles onto his belly, wings shifting as he relaxes again. No danger. « Zuvaleyuth? » It takes him a moment to place the name, but he does. « Is she back? » With his lack of range, the blue scans the skies again.

Velokraeth whuffles a quick apology to Varmiroth, genuinely contrite for waking his ledgemate. He won't settle though, he begins to pace the length of the ledge… which isn't much. Yet he does it in slow, careful lumbering steps. So like his rider, in ways. « No, she is not back. » he says with disappointment and his eyes, which whirled once in rapid anticipation, have now begun to slow again to a calmer pace and blue hue. « She only spoke briefly. Which, for her, was a torrent of words to say but a simple thing: she is well, Dtirae is… still healing and they remain where they are. She would not say where and receded when I pushed… » He seems so confused by this.

Varmiroth watches Velokraeth pace, stretching his muzzle towards his pale companion for a gentle nudge. « I am sorry. » He senses that disappointment. « I am glad she is well and hers is healing. I…do not remember hers being broken. »

Velokraeth pauses long enough to return the nudge from Varmiroth and then he tires of the pacing and stretches out on the ledge beside the blue. « Don't be sorry, Varmiroth. It's no fault of yours. » he says in a low and gentled tone. As for memories of Dtirae, the pale bronze has… none. Not of his own, anyways and that does not stop him from delving into the recesses of Th'ero's mind. He's so brisk and blunt about it that the bronzerider stirs in his sleep in unconscious protest and his dreams begin to take pieces of his past memories. Southern jungles, Drake's Lake (before and after Laris' fall), meetings in the council chambers, festival grounds… Bits and pieces of recollections of Dtirae. « Mine apparently did not know either until it was too late. He carried a lot of guilt and still does. Her abrupt stepping down affected him greatly. » Even Velokraeth did, back then but the bronze cannot remember save for a faint, distant sliver. « So now comes the difficult decisions, little brother. Do we tell? »

Varmiroth watches the memories that are presented to him - if any are - and then he rumbles in mild surprise. « Why would we not? Isn't it good that Zuvaleyuth and hers are well? And…why would yours feel bad? Kayeth is a powerful Senior, the weyr prospers. »

Of course the memories are shared. Velokraeth will share with Varmiroth, seeking comfort in the blue's presence as they speak. « Kayeth is indeed a formidable queen and the weyr prospers. I meant no offence in that regard. » he explains in his mellow tone, voice rolling as smoothly as the golden-wines of his mind. « It is good that Zuvaleyuth and hers are well. Very good! And it delights me to know that. But would it serve to bring up all the old wounds to mine? He'd want more answers. I do not have them. Zuvaleyuth has gone silent and does not hear me. »

Varmiroth rumbles softly, his thoughts as wide as the night sky. //« Isn't it worse to not know and wonder if they are faring well? »

Velokraeth will lose himself in some of that night sky, seeking some way to calm his thoughts which still ripple from the aftershock of being caught off guard by Zuvaleyuth's contact. « Would it be worse, little brother? I'm not so certain. Time has allowed mine's guilt to ease. I worry that by saying I have heard… it will only bring it to the surface again or he will want to forge ahead when he should not. I do not think Zuvaleyuth and Dtirae wish to be found. I am not even so certain that Zuvaleyuth acted within her rider's wishes. »

Varmiroth considers that for a moment. « I would tell. » But tat's no surprise. He always tells. He never hides things from his rider.

Velokraeth is silent for a short span of time as he mulls over Varmiroth's words and logic, only to snort and give his ledgemate a fond nudge to his shoulder. « Perhaps you are right, little brother. Thank you for reminding me that lies bring nothing good to a situation. I only hope that my mention of it will not bring too much grief. »

Varmiroth rumbles softly, returning the nudge. « If it does bring grief, at least it will nto be grief at you for keeping a secret. »

Velokraeth's mind ripples with laughter. « Ahh, so wisely spoken, little brother! Why did I ever worry over it? » Mirth subsiding, the pale bronze then exhales heavily. « It is a pity that they remain away from Fort even now. It seems so strange for a gold not to wish to be in a Weyr. What if she comes to her time? If she calls, will there be any bronzes there to heed her? » Leave it to Velokraeth to worry about mating habits above all!

Varmiroth gives a mental shrug and a soft rumbling laugh. « It is a shame, but it is what she and her rider wish. » He's not one to talk, since he and his rider spent turns out of the weyr. Still. He's blue. It's different. There's a pause to consider that conundrum though. « I'm sure bronzes will heed her call, » he decides. « She will not fly without. »

« We will honour their wishes, even if ours contradict. I'd like to have Zuvaleyuth and her rider return, if Kayeth would accept another queen. » Velokraeth admits and while his tone is a level murmuring, his mind almost implies an impish grin. Of course he'd not be adverse to another fertile, young queen and one that used (and possibly still does) favour him. Even if his loyalty has switched to Kayeth, he'd chase Zuvaleyuth, just as he chased Iaverulth and will chase Kouzevelth when she rises next. Now as they wax philosophically (even for dragons), Velokraeth stretches out in an indulgent manner despite the clammy chill of the spring pre-dawn. « Perhaps you are right. Why fly if you have no viable suitors or a proper Weyr? »

Varmiroth snorts softly, as always a touch baffled by Velokraeth's attraction to the mating process. « Do you think Kayeth would? » he muses thoughtfully. « Fort has many strong queens already. » And it's no secret that Kayeth frightens him a bit. At least Wiyaneth likes him. « She will fly when she wants to fly, I just meant she would call and I know bronzes would answer. She can call far, and there are many who would wish to catch her. Weyr or not. She would find somewhere to clutch. »

Velokraeth is a bronze. A very "hot blooded" bronze who has a wide and insatiable appetite for females and yet can still have a 'favourite'. Most of the time he jests with his comments and sometimes not. It's baffling, for certain but he will only ever explain it as 'natural' because it is for him. « Only two who fly and are fertile though, little brother. Wiyaneth and Zuhth, while strong, have long since retired. Not that that makes them any lesser of a gold. » Not at all! « I cannot predict what Kayeth would and would not accept. » Not yet. If he can sense Varmiroth's apprehension or fear of the fiery gold, he doesn't say. He will however, nuzzle the blue fondly in a companionable fashion. « Wise words again! » Velokraeth muses with a low rumble, his mind rippling with amused chuckling. « Ah, well. All good theories! » Lifting his head, he'll peer skywards again and then yawn mightily before giving himself a bit of a shake. « Dawn comes. I should rouse my rider… or perhaps I will leave him to sleep and wake in his own time. Give him some respite and let him start his day with yours. What say you? »

Rumbling softly, Varmiroth nudges Velokraeth back and instad of stretching, he curls up a bit. « I think ours should rest more. Mine is deep asleep and comfortable with yours. Is there anything that needs his attention? » Or can he play hookie for a bit?

Velokraeth goes silent again as he thinks and then whuffles in a long, drawn out exhale. « No, not that I can recall. It is just routine for us to patrol at pre-dawn but it is not the first time we have left that to those in Thunderbird charged with the task. So I will leave him to sleep, since he too is deep in his own dreams and I am reluctant to wake him. When he wakes, along with yours, I will tell him of what I heard and was told. »

Varmiroth closes his eyes with a soft exhale. « I think that is best for everyone, » he agrees.

Velokraeth yawns again as he gives himself another good stretch and then hauls himself to his feet. « Then it is settled. » he agrees in turn, stepping back towards his wallow only to pause and glance back to Varmiroth. « Coming out of the chill, little brother? » He asks, in subtle invitation for the blue to join him again if he chooses too. The clammy cold isn't exactly agreeing with the bronze and he seeks the warmth that his wallow offers.

Varmiroth just got settled, but at Velokraeth's rather intelligent suggestion, the blue gets to his feet to follow, flopping down with a yawn. His rider is sleepy, thus…he is sleepy.

Velokraeth is sleepy too or at the very least groggy and wishing to doze again. Why not do so in complete comfort? Now if only there were a green he could woo, a small dainty thing who could come warm them both… but the pale bronze does no such thing even if the idea surfaces briefly in his mind along with a good dose of sleepy laughter. Stretching out beside and likely slightly around Varmiroth, he'll rest his ugly, oversized head on his crossed, stunted forelegs and rest. Who knows what the day will bring?