[Log] Waylaid
Who: An'dren, Jakkal, Niala, Sunniva, Tiriana
When: Day 10, Month 2, Turn 18
Where: Corrals, Ista Weyr
What: A visit to Ista is derailed by having to say hi, on Iovniath's orders.
Corrals, Ista Weyr
Roughly a quarter of the western end of the bowl is enclosed by sturdy wooden fencing to contain the weyr's herd. Even in darkness, the twinkling stars and available moonlight give the corrals a dim, muted glow. The smell of animals persists here, even with the beasts tucked away for the night behind the closed metal doors of the stables. Long and deep, four stone troughs occupy the area immediately in front of the stable and are kept filled with cool, clear water. A plateau spreads out to the north, where grass has overtaken the sprawling plain. Well-worn tracks lead back east toward the heavily trafficked bowl.
Contents:
Sunniva
An'dren
Riuth
Obvious exits:
Bowl Plateau Stables
An'dren
Awkward is a word that describes An'dren well. He hasn't filled out much even after two turns of dragonriding, and the only way he's grown is up - nearly 6'2" now at seventeen, and stick-like in build. Tousled orange-brown hair has been cut short, if not neatened, but he's done nothing for his pale, freckled skin, which sunburns almost as much as it tans. His eyes are hazel and his face is long, and his hands are a little too big for his arms. Despite this ungainliness, though, there's a certain easygoing air about him - perhaps in the slouch of his shoulders or the jaunty tilt of his hat, or in that nearly perpetual grin.
Sunniva
This diminutive young woman stands just a little shy of five and a half feet, the slender nature of her limbs doing much to suggest that she's a terribly delicate creature -- something more apt to be caged and kept than allowed to roam free. This certainly shows in her birdlike gestures and the constant gleam of wariness in the depths of her sage-hued eyes. Thick, chestnut tresses have been braided and bound with a length of dark ribbon. Her features are clean and smooth; her jaw is an elegant line, her nose a dainty and upturned thing ... while her chin is the only stubborn part of her. Her skin is naturally dusky, turned slightly bronze by time spent outdoors.
Her neck and shoulders are thin and narrow, setting a trend for the rest of her limbs. Though there might be a potential for hidden strength, it's an untested thing -- but, then, she doesn't appear the sort to have endured much in the way of tests that weren't academic. Her fingers are long and slender, exceptionally dextrous, and hint at aristocratic hobbies such as embroidery or the like.
Her clothes are a bit on the plain side, intended to be worked in more than anything. Usually she opts for a short-sleeved shirt in a light (and light-coloured) fabric, but a tank-top is just as likely to be worn in warmer weather. Pants are a new development for her, typically either dark brown or blue with a rare pair of black. The entire ensemble is usually paired with boots or sturdy shoes and a leather belt. Visibly on her person is an orange and black knot with a thread of white, denoting her as a candidate at Ista Weyr.
The candidates have just finished cleaning the pens, and Riuth's here to mess it up again with flare and panache. One last circle, and then he plunges, eyes set on an ovine even smaller than the bovine the firelizards are making quick work of. Talons dig and snatch, and for the span of a heartbeat, both dragon and beast are airborn. Then they come back to the ground, the bronze pinning the creature beneath him and cleanly breaking its spine. "They'll hunt to eat," Andy says, still ignoring Riuth's showing off. "They just won't take their time." Then, when the girl offers introductions, he grins at her lack of an offered hand and returns: "An'dren, call me Andy. And that great hulkin' thing is Riuth."
The dry spring season relieves Ista Island of its humidity, replacing it with light, buoyant air. Tonight, a blanket of clouds dominates the black sky and a nice, light breeze carries the scent of sea air.
The talons of one finicky Reachian gold barely touch the surface of Ista's grassed-over bowl; Iovniath is clearly not at home, though she affects as gracious air as she can under the circumstances. She's been there for some time now, just waiting by herself: her rider's just now exiting the caverns, but not making much move to return to her dragon yet, either.
"I see." There's a slight pause and then, when he reciprocates the introduction, she blinks owlishly at him. "Ah, so /you/ are the one X'lar speaks so highly of. How delightful!" Sunniva brightens somewhat with a slight relaxing of her polite smile into something more amiable, a sidelong look being spared for the hunting bronze from her perch on the corral fence. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, An'dren." So much for the 'call me Andy'.
Dragon> If she's short on things to occupy herself with here, Iovniath only pays more attention to those around her, people- and dragon-watching. It's the bronze in the pens that earns the most of her mental attention, however, and when Riuth's made his kill, she reaches out to him. << Riuth, >> she greets him simply. (Iovniath to Riuth)
For all his earlier haste and hunger, Riuth doesn't eat much of his latest kill; he's distracted, now, by one finicky Reachian gold, and he's barely taken a bite before becoming distracted. He raises his head and turns in her direction, and when one of the browns on the bovine ventures over, he allows him his trespass. "Y'know," Andy says thoughtfully, leaning one arm up against the fence and grinning, "it's weird to hear someone say they've heard of me from Xie. He's got an awfully big mouth, hasn't he?" Then, because it's only polite, he adds, "Pleasure to meet you, too, Sunniva."
Dragon> It's not a voice he knows well, but still, he knows it, and he's only too willing to give her his attention now that she's made herself known. << Iovniath, >> he replies, and there's pleasure in the murmurs of his crowd. << What brings you to Ista? >> (Riuth to Iovniath)
Eventually, Tiriana makes her way over to Iovniath. And then the girl looks back toward the pens, her eyes narrowing as she looks at the bronze and rider that now has the focus of Iovniath's attention. Tiriana sighs, longsuffering, and crosses her arms, but whatever silent battle is going on, she's losing. And so the Reaches' weyrwoman tromps back over to the pens and toward An'dren and Sunniva. "I'm supposed to say hi," she announces to the pair.
"He does rather like to talk." Sunniva laughs softly, shaking her head just a little at something or another. The passing of the gold is not noticed or else not commented on, though when the bronze's attention shifts, she briefly looks that way out of sheer curiosity. Tiriana's arrival prompts her to turn -- albeit awkwardly -- and to lift a hand in greeting with a polite smile surfacing once more. "Oh, hello, Tiriana. How are you and yours?"
Dragon> << Oh, don't let me keep you from your meal, >> Iovniath is quick to protest, but her voice is flattered by his attention on her, and her mind gleams with silver. << We came to visit someone. I trust you are well, and your rider? >> (Iovniath to Riuth)
Andy's been alerted to Tiriana's proximity, and he shifts now to watch her tromp over, amusement clear in the quirk of his lips and the upward slant of a brow. "S'very gracious greeting, that," he says, and there's laughter in his words. "Hi, Tiriana. I'm guessing you two know each other?" He waves a hand between goldrider and candidate, then adds for the latter, "That he does."
Niala arrives from the plateau.
Niala has arrived.
Niala
Long and lean, standing at just over 5'6'', Niala is a young woman in her late teens. Inelegant in appearance, she possesses an athletic frame with lean muscles hardened from constant use. Her frame combined with her height gives her a silhouette that displays none of the softness that usually accompanies femininity. Dark, strait, earth-brown hair is pulled back in a tight braid that accentuates the sharpness of her features. Her face is long and narrow, with prominent cheek bones a sharp nose that is crooked from at least one break. She has a rather prominent scar running along one temple and another, fainter one on her sharp chin. The most striking features in her visage are her piercing eyes. Proportionally large in comparison to her face, they are a light, honey-brown, and framed by long, dark brown lashes. Her skin is slightly bronzed from frequent outdoor activities, and freckles lightly dust her nose and cheeks.
Niala's choice in clothing also seems unfeminine. She is wearing a loose, short tunic that is a dark tan and seemingly carelessly dusted with dirt. The tunic is belted at her waist with a braided leather thong. She is also wearing dark brown linen pants and calf-high leather boots. Her clothing is simple and functional with no decorative stitching.
"Hi," repeats Tiriana, turning her gaze on Sunniva when the latter greets her. It's a suspicious look, and a mildly confused one too. "Who are you?" she asks. Her head tilts slightly, like she can't quite place the Reachian-turned-Istan candidate. To An'dren, she shrugs. "Well. She made me say something, she didn't say how I had to do it. So."
Dragon> To Iovniath, Riuth says, dismissively, << I've already had another beast, >> and it's implied that he doesn't need another, nevermind that he's already made the kill. << We're well, yes. Thank you. And you and yours? >>
"Sunniva," is her answer to Tiriana, one brow lifting briefly as she studies the other woman. Sunni elaborates further with a matter-of-fact and still politely smiling, "I was a candidate at High Reaches a few months ago." It should be sufficient explanation for how she knows the goldrider's name, at any rate. A leg is swung over, then the other, putting her in a slightly better position to speak with both of them.
"If she's making you do it anyways, why not more cheerfully?" An'dren asks. "Unless my company really is that repulsive, in which case I suppose I'd hate saying hi to me, too." He pushes his hat back with a thumb, then shifts a few steps sideways so that Sunniva has more room, should she wish to drop down off the fence. "Oh yeah?" and there's some surprise now in his voice. "You're from Reaches, then?"
And here comes another candidate! Niala is leading out a dapple-grey runner out of the stables, obviously looking to take a ride before curfew. The runner nickers at the people gathered and Niala makes her way over to them, smile on her face. "Hi Sunni, An'dren." She inclines her head slightly at the bronzerider and squints to make out the knot of the unfamiliar woman. "Ma'am," she gives the goldrider a more formal head bow, "lovely evening, isn't it?"
"Oh." It does seem to be answer enough for Tiriana, who just shakes her head, eyes straying back to An'dren. "If I said it nicely," she explains, oh-so-patiently, "then you might actually think it was my idea and I wanted to come talk to you. And then everybody will feel like they have to stand around and be nice and talk about the weather to be polite. --Hi." Again with the unenthusiastic greetings, this time at Niala as the other girl comes over.
The candidate seems content where she is for now, grip shifting on the fence to ensure she's not going to fall. To An'dren, "It is ... well, I am from 'Reaches by way of Fort." Her mouth pulls briefly to a side. "I am from a hold before that." There's a fleeting look askance to Tiriana, something unreadable passing across her mien before Sunniva's attention is thusly drawn by the arrival of Niala. A hand raising in welcome and she calls, "Ah! Niala! How are you?" From the looks of Sunni, she's just finished her bout of feeding ground clean up and hasn't had a chance to clean up herself.
Dragon> To Riuth, Iovniath is certainly pleased now, sparkles of ice across the pure white of her mind. << If you're sure, Riuth, >> she tells the bronze. << I am glad to hear it; we are quite well, also. It is nice sometimes, isn't it, to get out of the Weyr and visit other places. >>
"Andy," An'dren corrects automatically even as he's turning to see who called, and adds, "Niala, right?" once he's spotted her. As for Tiriana's particular strand of logic? "Nothing wrong with being nice. Sure, weather's boring, but no one's saying you have to talk about that just 'cause you're polite, yeah?" He grins at the goldrider, then laughs. "Wow, Sunniva. You've been all over, haven't you?"
Dragon> To Iovniath, Riuth's attention is all for Iovniath, in case there's any doubt left in her mind. << It is, >> he agrees. << Mine and I visit Fort occasionally, as we've friends there. I'm afraid we haven't had time to visit Reaches as well, but I do hope to remedy that soon. >>
Niala ties the runner loosely to the fence, letting the animal graze while she talks. With practiced ease, the former stablehand vaults herself up onto the fence near Sunni, seemingly uncaring about the cleanliness of her fellow candidate. Tiriana gets a slightly strained smile and polite silence. "Andy, right. I still can't get that right." She give the bronzerider a big grin. "You may just have to deal with my calling you An'dren, then. As for my day," she gestures to the grazing runner, "I thought I'd go for a ride, since I finished my chores early." But talking is just as good, really!
"/You/," says Tiriana abruptly; looks like it just clicked how she knows Sunniva, her mouth setting into a line. She's still frowning at the other girl even as she answers An'dren. "If you're nice to everybody, then it doesn't mean anything," she says, her voice lofty even if the expression doesn't quite match. "And what /are/ we supposed to talk about, then?" And the runner gets a brief once-over, Niala a somewhat more disdainful glance. "How hard is it? Andy. Really?" she wonders.
"Such is what I get for saying I intend to spend 'just a sevenday' anywhere," Sunniva ruefully observes to An'dren, though it's tempered with a laugh of her own. "And all because I wanted to visit my sister." That's enough to kill any other smile that she dares give, aside from the persistently polite one that's directed to Tiriana, even in the face of the other woman's evident dislike. If anything, the smile widens, but she says nothing to the goldrider. Then it's tilted to Niala, the young woman nodding a little. "Oh, that sounds lovely! Is it the same runner from last time?" she wonders, leaning to look at the beast in question.
Dragon> To Riuth, Iovniath projects, << Fort? >> That has Iovniath's attention, and in her mind, an image of the mountainous Weyr is reflected. Her words are very delicate, however: the lightest of snows, just barely starting to stick. << We are often at Fort as well, for Zaiventh's. Do you know his? --I hope you do come to the Reaches soon, though, >> is added more easily, a lilt of teasing in her touch. << Though I will be upset if you come without seeing me again. >> >>
An'dren shrugs. "Why not Andy? It's the name I'm used to, and Riuth likes it, too, so. And An'dren's fine" -- this to Niala, whose presence on the fence prompts him to sidle over a few more feet so she's not crowded. "And being nice isn't supposed to /mean/ anything, besides that, y'know. You're nice." He would add more, but it seems someone's looking for him via Riuth; he pushes away from his post and says, "Apparently, I'm needed. I'll see you later." There's a wave of farewell, and then he's loping off towards the bowl.
Niala grins all too sweetly at Tiriana. "Andy itself isn't that hard to remember, it's the fact that he's a dragonrider, and I was taught to always call dragonriders by their honorifics. As long as An'dr....Andy, isn't offended," a winning smile is cast An'dren's way as he leaves, "I don't think it's a bad habit." With that done, she can focus on more pleasant people, like Sunniva! "Oh no, I knew this guy when I was younger. Imagine my surprise, finding him at the weyr." The beast gets a gentle smile. "He's a little more spirited than the other one, but his gaits are smoother."
Dragon> To Iovniath, Riuth's thoughts stutter and fade, and when he returns, there's an apology in his voice. << I'm afraid mine and I are needed elsewhere. It was a pleasure to see you again, Iovniath. >>
An'dren climbs up between Riuth's neckridges.
An'dren has left.
Riuth heads toward the sky.
Riuth has left.
Tiriana snorts. "I'd be more offended if you didn't call me what I wanted to be called," she informs Niala. But then An'dren is leaving, and Tiriana turns to watch him, sighing. Alone! With candidates! Even Iovniath looks disappointed from her perch a little ways off, and her head swings around to track the bronze as they leave. Tiriana huffs just a little bit more, then cuts a glance back at the other two girls. "Where... should he be?" Tiriana asks, giving the runner another look.
"Do take care," is called after An'dren as he departs and Sunniva scoots a bit on her section of fence to give Niala some (literal, given the smell) breathing room. She tips her head to Niala, then, "Oh? That must be exciting, then, to see him all grown up like that." Which eventually brings her attention to Tiriana, but the answer is left for Niala to give. She has no clue.
Niala clarifies for the goldrider, though her demeanor is strained polite. "He was born at my uncle's cothold. I helped train him when he was younger. Uncle must've sent him as a tithe; a messenger beast. He's really fast. His sire was the fastest runner in the entire herd." She gets wistful as she reminisces about her past. "He could've been a racing beast, if he had the correct training. However," a glance toward the animal, "he serves a better purpose as a messenger beast."
"The fastest runner in your herd," repeats Tiriana. Her tone's still condescending, and she looks over the runner again, plainly sizing him up while she turns to lean against the fence herself. "Some tiny little backwoods cothold. If he was really worth anything, he would have been trained. Do they /really/ let such amazing animals slip through the cracks in the circuit?" she sniffs.
"Oh, really?" That would be Sunniva, leaning a bit to look at the runner again. "Oh, how wonderful. That must be a stroke of luck, him being here now." She glances down at her pants with a sudden grimace, as if just now remembering the state she's in. So, she lapses into silence while the others talk, reaching up to adjust her ponytail and then just settling in to listen for now.
"We weren't a backwoods cothold. My uncle is affiliated with Keroon Hold and is a /great/ breeder." Stiffly, through her teeth, Niala is starting to become less polite. "He thought it was more important to train the animals for something /useful/. Afterall, the Interval, had just recently started, and with the comet pass," she gestures to the sky, "he didn't have time to change his training practices. He'll be putting some animals on the racetrack soon enough, now that we're well into the Interval." She scoots farther away from the Tiriana, wanting to distance herself from the condescending goldrider, giving Sunni a grateful smile.
"Mmhmm. If it's a cothold, it's backwoods," Tiriana says with a sweep of her hand. She's impervious to Niala's own increasingly strained politeness, too confident of her own views of the world. "That's kind of part of the definition of cothold. But I suppose good luck with that--you'll need it if you've never even trained any of them to race. It /does/ take more than just speed, you know."
"Well, you certainly are allowed to have your opinions..." The 'even if they're wrong' part is implied, though not stated directly. Niala's face is getting flushed as she gets more angry with the rude goldrider. With a violent motion, she jumps down from the fence and moves to untie
"Niala," Sunniva cants a look to her fellow candidate, "I am sure he would have made a perfect racer. Your uncle seems to have quite a knack with them." She's silent for a beat, then: "Perhaps I might be able to ride him, some day?" There's a smile that's turned to Tiriana, one that verges on being serene, "Of course. It would take more than speed and more than good luck, as well, but it sounds as if they do have the training to give." That counts for something, right?
Jakkal arrives from the northwest bowl.
Jakkal has arrived.
Jakkal
Standing a bit over six feet in height, Jakkal wears his long hair into a runner's tail which matches the reddish gold of a bey runnerbeast. His hazel eyes hint at a keen intellect which might not be expected due to his muscular bulk. His face and skin are dark with a tan overtone which adds a healthy shimmer to his skin. He wears short sleeved shirts which show off his broad shoulders and well sculpted muscles when the weather allows, covering up with a practical, warm jacket when in cold climes. His legs sport a pair of loose fitting pants while a pair of sturdy boots cover his feet.
His clothing is broken in but still in good repair and is marked contrast to the clean, new knot upon his shoulder which marks him as a Candidate at Ista Weyr.
He appears to be 19 turns, 4 months, 9 days old.
"Well, you certainly are allowed to have your opinions..." The 'even if they're wrong' part is implied, though not stated directly. Niala's face is getting flushed as she gets more angry with the rude goldrider. With a violent motion, she jumps down from the fence and moves to untie the dappled runner. Years of experience allows her to mount the beast without a saddle and despite her angry. Voice shaking from surpressed rage, she tips her head at the goldrider. "If I want to get my ride, I'll have to leave now, ma'am." Sunni gets a curt nod and another look of gratitude, though her voice is gentler as she speaks to her fellow candidate. "Of course. If you have time, I'll be down at the beach. If you want, you can try and ride him today. Bareback is a lot more fun." With that, she wheels about and has the runner gallop towards the beach, thundering past other stablehands and beasts.
Niala goes home.
Niala has left.
"Because you're such an expect on runners," Tiriana asks, straightening up from the fence to eye Sunniva up and down. The sound she makes is disdainful, but she steps away a pace from the runner when Niala mounts up. "Sure. Bye," says the visiting goldrider, with a nod as Niala takes the runner off. Apparently, the you're-wrong part of the girl's statement is lost on her, though Tiriana does turn to look at Sunniva and frown. "What's /her/ problem?"
Jakkal is one of those stablehands who sees Niala rush off, or at least the Candidate likes to pretend he's still one in his free time. He leads Amber behind him, saddle and bridle upon the bey mare. "She should be more careful until the Hatching..." he mutters to the runner, which makes his voice somewhere around a dull roar. He mounts swiftly, looking like he might ride after his fellow Stablehand turned Candidate until he spots the stranger near the fence. With a soft hand, he urges the mare into a short trot towards the pair. He nods to Sunniva with a quick grin, "Hey, Sunniva." Seeing that the woman wears no knot he plays it safe as his deep bass comes out to great her as well, "Ista's Duties, Ma'am."
Still perched on the corral fence in her work-befouled trousers is Sunniva, her smile faltering just a bit as Niala takes her exit. "I shall. Do take care," is customary, called after the other young woman even as she suppresses the urge to frown more directly. It's settled back into a smile again when she glances down to Tiriana, ignoring the first remark in favour of answering the second with a neutral, "Perhaps you ought to ask her later, if you truly care to know. It is not really my place to speculate." Ahh, and there's Jakkal, who gets a wave from the young woman, "Jakkal! How are you?"
"Yeah," says Tiriana, looking after Niala for a moment longer. "I don't, really." At least she's honest, shrugging it off and glancing sideways at Sunniva once more, then the young man on the runner that she hails. "High Reaches' duties," she echoes back her own greeting. It's almost polite. "What do you want?" Almost.
Jakkal shakes his head with a grin at his fellow Candidate who is quickly turning into a new friend. "Well enough, though when this is over I need to knock some sense into whoever's been mucking the stalls." He reaches down to give the mare a pat as she slows and finally stops, "There were still traces in the corners of Amber's stall." He shakes his head with a somewhat gleeful look around despite his last comment. Listen, no echoes to his booming voice! He blinks at the stranger's reply, "To do my Duty to Ista and High Reaches by greeting a visitor," he offers simply.
There's just the slightest of nods to Tiriana for her words, at least intent on acknowledging them. It's the most polite thing she can do, really. "Stable mucking was not my task for the day, so do not look at me," is jokingly directed to Jakkal, with Sunniva laughing softly. "Though, I do think Meljen was one of the ones doing that today." Appraising looks are directed to both fellow candidate and to Tiriana shortly after, her brows lifting discretely.
"Well. Aren't you polite," and the sarcasm just drips from Tiriana's voice, enough so that the gold dragon several yards off in the bowl gives a snort. Iovniath is still eyeing the trio by the fence, after all, and Tiriana looks back at her now with an exhale of breath. She then manages, "How hard is it to muck a stall out right?" It's half sympathetic, for Jakkal, and half scornful for the other muckers' shortcomings.
Jakkal nods, "Well, I did it, and the others that hadn't been done correctly. So a good midday over all." He grins and pats the runner's neck, "Figured I'd go for a ride, though I can't go that far with the rules against getting lost, killed or too far from the Weyr proper," he gives Sunniva a grin at that before offering a more sober expression to the Weyr's guest. He glances over at the snort and blinks, thankfully Amber didn't catch wind of the gold yet or she probably wouldn't be so calm, though the mare's attention does shift at the noise. "Not overly, Ma'am," he offers to her question, giving a curt nod to her first comment, "But I've been at it for years, so perhaps it would be best to ask someone who's just started when they were Searched." He looked to Sunniva questioningly. Still not quite able to rein in his excitement over the lack of echoes out in the open. He's not barking out his words, at least, but he's still speaking as loudly as usual.
"It seems it would be rather hard for those without the skill for it. But it is not /that/ difficult, no." That's for Tiriana's benefit, a shallow rise-fall of shoulders following. Sunniva's gaze slips back to Jakkal, an amused note rising in her voice, "I thought you had time off for the rest of the day." His questioning look is answered with a half-smile of her own, an added, "I have had a few more months practice at it than some of the others, to be fair."
Tiriana eyes Jakkal. "It was a rhetorical question," she drawls after a moment. "I know how hard it is. I /did/ used to be a stablehand, you know." As though they should know that about her already. She even rolls her eyes, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.
Jakkal grins, "Exactly. Doing what I love around here _is_ relaxing..." He frowns slightly, "Though I'm still not able to go on hunts on my time off..." He raises an eyebrow at their guest, "Well, always a pleasure to meet someone who has worked with the 'beasts, Ma'am." His reply is even and at a dull roar as he nods his head respecfully, "Though I suppose I should get Amber to the trail if we're to work up a sweat. Well met." He nods to Sunniva as well, "See you around."
"That /is/ a dreadful shame." That, of course, being to Jakkal's lament that he can't go on hunts. And then, it seems, he's on his way to leave already? Sunniva just offers a smile and a wave, "Oh. Well, then, do take care, Jakkal. I shall remember to bring some apples for your runner next time I have time off." Which brings her attention to Tiriana, the answer prompting a rather curious, "Oh? And here I always thought you were cut of the same cloth as my sister and I were."
"Hunting?" Tiriana's nose wrinkles up at that, but not in girlish distaste. Instead, she shakes her head and tells him, "That's boring. Fine, though. Bye." She waves, briefly, but the gesture is cut short by Sunniva's latter remark. Tiriana's head swings around sharply, and she glares at the younger girl. "I am /nothing/ like you and your sister," she snaps, voice rising in a stronger response than the innocuously curious question deserves. "I pull my own weight. I don't just loiter."
Jakkal nods to them both and when he gets no exception, he nudges Amber away from the direction the gold is in and towards the nearest treeline. He may not be able to ride among them, but he'll at least be able to ride along them.
Jakkal has disconnected.
"Really?" One brow quirks upward slightly, but that smile on her face remains passively polite. "You sound rather like her, I think. Of course, I cannot speak to whether you loiter or not," and Sunni, for all that she's sitting here, hasn't been loitering long, "and as I am nothing like my sister, it would stand to reason that you are nothing like me." Jakkal's departure is incentive enough to have the candidate ease herself down from her chosen perch. Which then brings her to, "Are you here for something or-? Well." Best to leave /that/ thought unspoken. "I might be able to help."
Again, "I am /nothing/ like her. Or you. Any of you." And that settles it for Tiriana, because she's standing up from the fence just as Jakkal leaves. "I was on my way out. Iovniath just wanted me to say hi to An'dren so she could talk to Riuth before we went. And now I'm going." Her feathers are the ruffled ones now, as she dusts herself off briefly from the fence and then turns toward the waiting gold.
"Mm. I see. Well, do take care, Tiriana," is called after, that smile seeming to brighten just a touch when the goldrider goes. There's even a wave tossed after, though perhaps more for Iovniath than the rider. Any other comment is thusly restrained and redirected into a slight shake of her head. And then Sunniva's off and plucking at her clothes, heading away at a slight angle toward the caverns to a much needed bath.
When: Day 10, Month 2, Turn 18
Where: Corrals, Ista Weyr
What: A visit to Ista is derailed by having to say hi, on Iovniath's orders.
Corrals, Ista Weyr
Roughly a quarter of the western end of the bowl is enclosed by sturdy wooden fencing to contain the weyr's herd. Even in darkness, the twinkling stars and available moonlight give the corrals a dim, muted glow. The smell of animals persists here, even with the beasts tucked away for the night behind the closed metal doors of the stables. Long and deep, four stone troughs occupy the area immediately in front of the stable and are kept filled with cool, clear water. A plateau spreads out to the north, where grass has overtaken the sprawling plain. Well-worn tracks lead back east toward the heavily trafficked bowl.
Contents:
Sunniva
An'dren
Riuth
Obvious exits:
Bowl Plateau Stables
An'dren
Awkward is a word that describes An'dren well. He hasn't filled out much even after two turns of dragonriding, and the only way he's grown is up - nearly 6'2" now at seventeen, and stick-like in build. Tousled orange-brown hair has been cut short, if not neatened, but he's done nothing for his pale, freckled skin, which sunburns almost as much as it tans. His eyes are hazel and his face is long, and his hands are a little too big for his arms. Despite this ungainliness, though, there's a certain easygoing air about him - perhaps in the slouch of his shoulders or the jaunty tilt of his hat, or in that nearly perpetual grin.
Sunniva
This diminutive young woman stands just a little shy of five and a half feet, the slender nature of her limbs doing much to suggest that she's a terribly delicate creature -- something more apt to be caged and kept than allowed to roam free. This certainly shows in her birdlike gestures and the constant gleam of wariness in the depths of her sage-hued eyes. Thick, chestnut tresses have been braided and bound with a length of dark ribbon. Her features are clean and smooth; her jaw is an elegant line, her nose a dainty and upturned thing ... while her chin is the only stubborn part of her. Her skin is naturally dusky, turned slightly bronze by time spent outdoors.
Her neck and shoulders are thin and narrow, setting a trend for the rest of her limbs. Though there might be a potential for hidden strength, it's an untested thing -- but, then, she doesn't appear the sort to have endured much in the way of tests that weren't academic. Her fingers are long and slender, exceptionally dextrous, and hint at aristocratic hobbies such as embroidery or the like.
Her clothes are a bit on the plain side, intended to be worked in more than anything. Usually she opts for a short-sleeved shirt in a light (and light-coloured) fabric, but a tank-top is just as likely to be worn in warmer weather. Pants are a new development for her, typically either dark brown or blue with a rare pair of black. The entire ensemble is usually paired with boots or sturdy shoes and a leather belt. Visibly on her person is an orange and black knot with a thread of white, denoting her as a candidate at Ista Weyr.
The candidates have just finished cleaning the pens, and Riuth's here to mess it up again with flare and panache. One last circle, and then he plunges, eyes set on an ovine even smaller than the bovine the firelizards are making quick work of. Talons dig and snatch, and for the span of a heartbeat, both dragon and beast are airborn. Then they come back to the ground, the bronze pinning the creature beneath him and cleanly breaking its spine. "They'll hunt to eat," Andy says, still ignoring Riuth's showing off. "They just won't take their time." Then, when the girl offers introductions, he grins at her lack of an offered hand and returns: "An'dren, call me Andy. And that great hulkin' thing is Riuth."
The dry spring season relieves Ista Island of its humidity, replacing it with light, buoyant air. Tonight, a blanket of clouds dominates the black sky and a nice, light breeze carries the scent of sea air.
The talons of one finicky Reachian gold barely touch the surface of Ista's grassed-over bowl; Iovniath is clearly not at home, though she affects as gracious air as she can under the circumstances. She's been there for some time now, just waiting by herself: her rider's just now exiting the caverns, but not making much move to return to her dragon yet, either.
"I see." There's a slight pause and then, when he reciprocates the introduction, she blinks owlishly at him. "Ah, so /you/ are the one X'lar speaks so highly of. How delightful!" Sunniva brightens somewhat with a slight relaxing of her polite smile into something more amiable, a sidelong look being spared for the hunting bronze from her perch on the corral fence. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, An'dren." So much for the 'call me Andy'.
Dragon> If she's short on things to occupy herself with here, Iovniath only pays more attention to those around her, people- and dragon-watching. It's the bronze in the pens that earns the most of her mental attention, however, and when Riuth's made his kill, she reaches out to him. << Riuth, >> she greets him simply. (Iovniath to Riuth)
For all his earlier haste and hunger, Riuth doesn't eat much of his latest kill; he's distracted, now, by one finicky Reachian gold, and he's barely taken a bite before becoming distracted. He raises his head and turns in her direction, and when one of the browns on the bovine ventures over, he allows him his trespass. "Y'know," Andy says thoughtfully, leaning one arm up against the fence and grinning, "it's weird to hear someone say they've heard of me from Xie. He's got an awfully big mouth, hasn't he?" Then, because it's only polite, he adds, "Pleasure to meet you, too, Sunniva."
Dragon> It's not a voice he knows well, but still, he knows it, and he's only too willing to give her his attention now that she's made herself known. << Iovniath, >> he replies, and there's pleasure in the murmurs of his crowd. << What brings you to Ista? >> (Riuth to Iovniath)
Eventually, Tiriana makes her way over to Iovniath. And then the girl looks back toward the pens, her eyes narrowing as she looks at the bronze and rider that now has the focus of Iovniath's attention. Tiriana sighs, longsuffering, and crosses her arms, but whatever silent battle is going on, she's losing. And so the Reaches' weyrwoman tromps back over to the pens and toward An'dren and Sunniva. "I'm supposed to say hi," she announces to the pair.
"He does rather like to talk." Sunniva laughs softly, shaking her head just a little at something or another. The passing of the gold is not noticed or else not commented on, though when the bronze's attention shifts, she briefly looks that way out of sheer curiosity. Tiriana's arrival prompts her to turn -- albeit awkwardly -- and to lift a hand in greeting with a polite smile surfacing once more. "Oh, hello, Tiriana. How are you and yours?"
Dragon> << Oh, don't let me keep you from your meal, >> Iovniath is quick to protest, but her voice is flattered by his attention on her, and her mind gleams with silver. << We came to visit someone. I trust you are well, and your rider? >> (Iovniath to Riuth)
Andy's been alerted to Tiriana's proximity, and he shifts now to watch her tromp over, amusement clear in the quirk of his lips and the upward slant of a brow. "S'very gracious greeting, that," he says, and there's laughter in his words. "Hi, Tiriana. I'm guessing you two know each other?" He waves a hand between goldrider and candidate, then adds for the latter, "That he does."
Niala arrives from the plateau.
Niala has arrived.
Niala
Long and lean, standing at just over 5'6'', Niala is a young woman in her late teens. Inelegant in appearance, she possesses an athletic frame with lean muscles hardened from constant use. Her frame combined with her height gives her a silhouette that displays none of the softness that usually accompanies femininity. Dark, strait, earth-brown hair is pulled back in a tight braid that accentuates the sharpness of her features. Her face is long and narrow, with prominent cheek bones a sharp nose that is crooked from at least one break. She has a rather prominent scar running along one temple and another, fainter one on her sharp chin. The most striking features in her visage are her piercing eyes. Proportionally large in comparison to her face, they are a light, honey-brown, and framed by long, dark brown lashes. Her skin is slightly bronzed from frequent outdoor activities, and freckles lightly dust her nose and cheeks.
Niala's choice in clothing also seems unfeminine. She is wearing a loose, short tunic that is a dark tan and seemingly carelessly dusted with dirt. The tunic is belted at her waist with a braided leather thong. She is also wearing dark brown linen pants and calf-high leather boots. Her clothing is simple and functional with no decorative stitching.
"Hi," repeats Tiriana, turning her gaze on Sunniva when the latter greets her. It's a suspicious look, and a mildly confused one too. "Who are you?" she asks. Her head tilts slightly, like she can't quite place the Reachian-turned-Istan candidate. To An'dren, she shrugs. "Well. She made me say something, she didn't say how I had to do it. So."
Dragon> To Iovniath, Riuth says, dismissively, << I've already had another beast, >> and it's implied that he doesn't need another, nevermind that he's already made the kill. << We're well, yes. Thank you. And you and yours? >>
"Sunniva," is her answer to Tiriana, one brow lifting briefly as she studies the other woman. Sunni elaborates further with a matter-of-fact and still politely smiling, "I was a candidate at High Reaches a few months ago." It should be sufficient explanation for how she knows the goldrider's name, at any rate. A leg is swung over, then the other, putting her in a slightly better position to speak with both of them.
"If she's making you do it anyways, why not more cheerfully?" An'dren asks. "Unless my company really is that repulsive, in which case I suppose I'd hate saying hi to me, too." He pushes his hat back with a thumb, then shifts a few steps sideways so that Sunniva has more room, should she wish to drop down off the fence. "Oh yeah?" and there's some surprise now in his voice. "You're from Reaches, then?"
And here comes another candidate! Niala is leading out a dapple-grey runner out of the stables, obviously looking to take a ride before curfew. The runner nickers at the people gathered and Niala makes her way over to them, smile on her face. "Hi Sunni, An'dren." She inclines her head slightly at the bronzerider and squints to make out the knot of the unfamiliar woman. "Ma'am," she gives the goldrider a more formal head bow, "lovely evening, isn't it?"
"Oh." It does seem to be answer enough for Tiriana, who just shakes her head, eyes straying back to An'dren. "If I said it nicely," she explains, oh-so-patiently, "then you might actually think it was my idea and I wanted to come talk to you. And then everybody will feel like they have to stand around and be nice and talk about the weather to be polite. --Hi." Again with the unenthusiastic greetings, this time at Niala as the other girl comes over.
The candidate seems content where she is for now, grip shifting on the fence to ensure she's not going to fall. To An'dren, "It is ... well, I am from 'Reaches by way of Fort." Her mouth pulls briefly to a side. "I am from a hold before that." There's a fleeting look askance to Tiriana, something unreadable passing across her mien before Sunniva's attention is thusly drawn by the arrival of Niala. A hand raising in welcome and she calls, "Ah! Niala! How are you?" From the looks of Sunni, she's just finished her bout of feeding ground clean up and hasn't had a chance to clean up herself.
Dragon> To Riuth, Iovniath is certainly pleased now, sparkles of ice across the pure white of her mind. << If you're sure, Riuth, >> she tells the bronze. << I am glad to hear it; we are quite well, also. It is nice sometimes, isn't it, to get out of the Weyr and visit other places. >>
"Andy," An'dren corrects automatically even as he's turning to see who called, and adds, "Niala, right?" once he's spotted her. As for Tiriana's particular strand of logic? "Nothing wrong with being nice. Sure, weather's boring, but no one's saying you have to talk about that just 'cause you're polite, yeah?" He grins at the goldrider, then laughs. "Wow, Sunniva. You've been all over, haven't you?"
Dragon> To Iovniath, Riuth's attention is all for Iovniath, in case there's any doubt left in her mind. << It is, >> he agrees. << Mine and I visit Fort occasionally, as we've friends there. I'm afraid we haven't had time to visit Reaches as well, but I do hope to remedy that soon. >>
Niala ties the runner loosely to the fence, letting the animal graze while she talks. With practiced ease, the former stablehand vaults herself up onto the fence near Sunni, seemingly uncaring about the cleanliness of her fellow candidate. Tiriana gets a slightly strained smile and polite silence. "Andy, right. I still can't get that right." She give the bronzerider a big grin. "You may just have to deal with my calling you An'dren, then. As for my day," she gestures to the grazing runner, "I thought I'd go for a ride, since I finished my chores early." But talking is just as good, really!
"/You/," says Tiriana abruptly; looks like it just clicked how she knows Sunniva, her mouth setting into a line. She's still frowning at the other girl even as she answers An'dren. "If you're nice to everybody, then it doesn't mean anything," she says, her voice lofty even if the expression doesn't quite match. "And what /are/ we supposed to talk about, then?" And the runner gets a brief once-over, Niala a somewhat more disdainful glance. "How hard is it? Andy. Really?" she wonders.
"Such is what I get for saying I intend to spend 'just a sevenday' anywhere," Sunniva ruefully observes to An'dren, though it's tempered with a laugh of her own. "And all because I wanted to visit my sister." That's enough to kill any other smile that she dares give, aside from the persistently polite one that's directed to Tiriana, even in the face of the other woman's evident dislike. If anything, the smile widens, but she says nothing to the goldrider. Then it's tilted to Niala, the young woman nodding a little. "Oh, that sounds lovely! Is it the same runner from last time?" she wonders, leaning to look at the beast in question.
Dragon> To Riuth, Iovniath projects, << Fort? >> That has Iovniath's attention, and in her mind, an image of the mountainous Weyr is reflected. Her words are very delicate, however: the lightest of snows, just barely starting to stick. << We are often at Fort as well, for Zaiventh's. Do you know his? --I hope you do come to the Reaches soon, though, >> is added more easily, a lilt of teasing in her touch. << Though I will be upset if you come without seeing me again. >> >>
An'dren shrugs. "Why not Andy? It's the name I'm used to, and Riuth likes it, too, so. And An'dren's fine" -- this to Niala, whose presence on the fence prompts him to sidle over a few more feet so she's not crowded. "And being nice isn't supposed to /mean/ anything, besides that, y'know. You're nice." He would add more, but it seems someone's looking for him via Riuth; he pushes away from his post and says, "Apparently, I'm needed. I'll see you later." There's a wave of farewell, and then he's loping off towards the bowl.
Niala grins all too sweetly at Tiriana. "Andy itself isn't that hard to remember, it's the fact that he's a dragonrider, and I was taught to always call dragonriders by their honorifics. As long as An'dr....Andy, isn't offended," a winning smile is cast An'dren's way as he leaves, "I don't think it's a bad habit." With that done, she can focus on more pleasant people, like Sunniva! "Oh no, I knew this guy when I was younger. Imagine my surprise, finding him at the weyr." The beast gets a gentle smile. "He's a little more spirited than the other one, but his gaits are smoother."
Dragon> To Iovniath, Riuth's thoughts stutter and fade, and when he returns, there's an apology in his voice. << I'm afraid mine and I are needed elsewhere. It was a pleasure to see you again, Iovniath. >>
An'dren climbs up between Riuth's neckridges.
An'dren has left.
Riuth heads toward the sky.
Riuth has left.
Tiriana snorts. "I'd be more offended if you didn't call me what I wanted to be called," she informs Niala. But then An'dren is leaving, and Tiriana turns to watch him, sighing. Alone! With candidates! Even Iovniath looks disappointed from her perch a little ways off, and her head swings around to track the bronze as they leave. Tiriana huffs just a little bit more, then cuts a glance back at the other two girls. "Where... should he be?" Tiriana asks, giving the runner another look.
"Do take care," is called after An'dren as he departs and Sunniva scoots a bit on her section of fence to give Niala some (literal, given the smell) breathing room. She tips her head to Niala, then, "Oh? That must be exciting, then, to see him all grown up like that." Which eventually brings her attention to Tiriana, but the answer is left for Niala to give. She has no clue.
Niala clarifies for the goldrider, though her demeanor is strained polite. "He was born at my uncle's cothold. I helped train him when he was younger. Uncle must've sent him as a tithe; a messenger beast. He's really fast. His sire was the fastest runner in the entire herd." She gets wistful as she reminisces about her past. "He could've been a racing beast, if he had the correct training. However," a glance toward the animal, "he serves a better purpose as a messenger beast."
"The fastest runner in your herd," repeats Tiriana. Her tone's still condescending, and she looks over the runner again, plainly sizing him up while she turns to lean against the fence herself. "Some tiny little backwoods cothold. If he was really worth anything, he would have been trained. Do they /really/ let such amazing animals slip through the cracks in the circuit?" she sniffs.
"Oh, really?" That would be Sunniva, leaning a bit to look at the runner again. "Oh, how wonderful. That must be a stroke of luck, him being here now." She glances down at her pants with a sudden grimace, as if just now remembering the state she's in. So, she lapses into silence while the others talk, reaching up to adjust her ponytail and then just settling in to listen for now.
"We weren't a backwoods cothold. My uncle is affiliated with Keroon Hold and is a /great/ breeder." Stiffly, through her teeth, Niala is starting to become less polite. "He thought it was more important to train the animals for something /useful/. Afterall, the Interval, had just recently started, and with the comet pass," she gestures to the sky, "he didn't have time to change his training practices. He'll be putting some animals on the racetrack soon enough, now that we're well into the Interval." She scoots farther away from the Tiriana, wanting to distance herself from the condescending goldrider, giving Sunni a grateful smile.
"Mmhmm. If it's a cothold, it's backwoods," Tiriana says with a sweep of her hand. She's impervious to Niala's own increasingly strained politeness, too confident of her own views of the world. "That's kind of part of the definition of cothold. But I suppose good luck with that--you'll need it if you've never even trained any of them to race. It /does/ take more than just speed, you know."
"Well, you certainly are allowed to have your opinions..." The 'even if they're wrong' part is implied, though not stated directly. Niala's face is getting flushed as she gets more angry with the rude goldrider. With a violent motion, she jumps down from the fence and moves to untie
"Niala," Sunniva cants a look to her fellow candidate, "I am sure he would have made a perfect racer. Your uncle seems to have quite a knack with them." She's silent for a beat, then: "Perhaps I might be able to ride him, some day?" There's a smile that's turned to Tiriana, one that verges on being serene, "Of course. It would take more than speed and more than good luck, as well, but it sounds as if they do have the training to give." That counts for something, right?
Jakkal arrives from the northwest bowl.
Jakkal has arrived.
Jakkal
Standing a bit over six feet in height, Jakkal wears his long hair into a runner's tail which matches the reddish gold of a bey runnerbeast. His hazel eyes hint at a keen intellect which might not be expected due to his muscular bulk. His face and skin are dark with a tan overtone which adds a healthy shimmer to his skin. He wears short sleeved shirts which show off his broad shoulders and well sculpted muscles when the weather allows, covering up with a practical, warm jacket when in cold climes. His legs sport a pair of loose fitting pants while a pair of sturdy boots cover his feet.
His clothing is broken in but still in good repair and is marked contrast to the clean, new knot upon his shoulder which marks him as a Candidate at Ista Weyr.
He appears to be 19 turns, 4 months, 9 days old.
"Well, you certainly are allowed to have your opinions..." The 'even if they're wrong' part is implied, though not stated directly. Niala's face is getting flushed as she gets more angry with the rude goldrider. With a violent motion, she jumps down from the fence and moves to untie the dappled runner. Years of experience allows her to mount the beast without a saddle and despite her angry. Voice shaking from surpressed rage, she tips her head at the goldrider. "If I want to get my ride, I'll have to leave now, ma'am." Sunni gets a curt nod and another look of gratitude, though her voice is gentler as she speaks to her fellow candidate. "Of course. If you have time, I'll be down at the beach. If you want, you can try and ride him today. Bareback is a lot more fun." With that, she wheels about and has the runner gallop towards the beach, thundering past other stablehands and beasts.
Niala goes home.
Niala has left.
"Because you're such an expect on runners," Tiriana asks, straightening up from the fence to eye Sunniva up and down. The sound she makes is disdainful, but she steps away a pace from the runner when Niala mounts up. "Sure. Bye," says the visiting goldrider, with a nod as Niala takes the runner off. Apparently, the you're-wrong part of the girl's statement is lost on her, though Tiriana does turn to look at Sunniva and frown. "What's /her/ problem?"
Jakkal is one of those stablehands who sees Niala rush off, or at least the Candidate likes to pretend he's still one in his free time. He leads Amber behind him, saddle and bridle upon the bey mare. "She should be more careful until the Hatching..." he mutters to the runner, which makes his voice somewhere around a dull roar. He mounts swiftly, looking like he might ride after his fellow Stablehand turned Candidate until he spots the stranger near the fence. With a soft hand, he urges the mare into a short trot towards the pair. He nods to Sunniva with a quick grin, "Hey, Sunniva." Seeing that the woman wears no knot he plays it safe as his deep bass comes out to great her as well, "Ista's Duties, Ma'am."
Still perched on the corral fence in her work-befouled trousers is Sunniva, her smile faltering just a bit as Niala takes her exit. "I shall. Do take care," is customary, called after the other young woman even as she suppresses the urge to frown more directly. It's settled back into a smile again when she glances down to Tiriana, ignoring the first remark in favour of answering the second with a neutral, "Perhaps you ought to ask her later, if you truly care to know. It is not really my place to speculate." Ahh, and there's Jakkal, who gets a wave from the young woman, "Jakkal! How are you?"
"Yeah," says Tiriana, looking after Niala for a moment longer. "I don't, really." At least she's honest, shrugging it off and glancing sideways at Sunniva once more, then the young man on the runner that she hails. "High Reaches' duties," she echoes back her own greeting. It's almost polite. "What do you want?" Almost.
Jakkal shakes his head with a grin at his fellow Candidate who is quickly turning into a new friend. "Well enough, though when this is over I need to knock some sense into whoever's been mucking the stalls." He reaches down to give the mare a pat as she slows and finally stops, "There were still traces in the corners of Amber's stall." He shakes his head with a somewhat gleeful look around despite his last comment. Listen, no echoes to his booming voice! He blinks at the stranger's reply, "To do my Duty to Ista and High Reaches by greeting a visitor," he offers simply.
There's just the slightest of nods to Tiriana for her words, at least intent on acknowledging them. It's the most polite thing she can do, really. "Stable mucking was not my task for the day, so do not look at me," is jokingly directed to Jakkal, with Sunniva laughing softly. "Though, I do think Meljen was one of the ones doing that today." Appraising looks are directed to both fellow candidate and to Tiriana shortly after, her brows lifting discretely.
"Well. Aren't you polite," and the sarcasm just drips from Tiriana's voice, enough so that the gold dragon several yards off in the bowl gives a snort. Iovniath is still eyeing the trio by the fence, after all, and Tiriana looks back at her now with an exhale of breath. She then manages, "How hard is it to muck a stall out right?" It's half sympathetic, for Jakkal, and half scornful for the other muckers' shortcomings.
Jakkal nods, "Well, I did it, and the others that hadn't been done correctly. So a good midday over all." He grins and pats the runner's neck, "Figured I'd go for a ride, though I can't go that far with the rules against getting lost, killed or too far from the Weyr proper," he gives Sunniva a grin at that before offering a more sober expression to the Weyr's guest. He glances over at the snort and blinks, thankfully Amber didn't catch wind of the gold yet or she probably wouldn't be so calm, though the mare's attention does shift at the noise. "Not overly, Ma'am," he offers to her question, giving a curt nod to her first comment, "But I've been at it for years, so perhaps it would be best to ask someone who's just started when they were Searched." He looked to Sunniva questioningly. Still not quite able to rein in his excitement over the lack of echoes out in the open. He's not barking out his words, at least, but he's still speaking as loudly as usual.
"It seems it would be rather hard for those without the skill for it. But it is not /that/ difficult, no." That's for Tiriana's benefit, a shallow rise-fall of shoulders following. Sunniva's gaze slips back to Jakkal, an amused note rising in her voice, "I thought you had time off for the rest of the day." His questioning look is answered with a half-smile of her own, an added, "I have had a few more months practice at it than some of the others, to be fair."
Tiriana eyes Jakkal. "It was a rhetorical question," she drawls after a moment. "I know how hard it is. I /did/ used to be a stablehand, you know." As though they should know that about her already. She even rolls her eyes, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.
Jakkal grins, "Exactly. Doing what I love around here _is_ relaxing..." He frowns slightly, "Though I'm still not able to go on hunts on my time off..." He raises an eyebrow at their guest, "Well, always a pleasure to meet someone who has worked with the 'beasts, Ma'am." His reply is even and at a dull roar as he nods his head respecfully, "Though I suppose I should get Amber to the trail if we're to work up a sweat. Well met." He nods to Sunniva as well, "See you around."
"That /is/ a dreadful shame." That, of course, being to Jakkal's lament that he can't go on hunts. And then, it seems, he's on his way to leave already? Sunniva just offers a smile and a wave, "Oh. Well, then, do take care, Jakkal. I shall remember to bring some apples for your runner next time I have time off." Which brings her attention to Tiriana, the answer prompting a rather curious, "Oh? And here I always thought you were cut of the same cloth as my sister and I were."
"Hunting?" Tiriana's nose wrinkles up at that, but not in girlish distaste. Instead, she shakes her head and tells him, "That's boring. Fine, though. Bye." She waves, briefly, but the gesture is cut short by Sunniva's latter remark. Tiriana's head swings around sharply, and she glares at the younger girl. "I am /nothing/ like you and your sister," she snaps, voice rising in a stronger response than the innocuously curious question deserves. "I pull my own weight. I don't just loiter."
Jakkal nods to them both and when he gets no exception, he nudges Amber away from the direction the gold is in and towards the nearest treeline. He may not be able to ride among them, but he'll at least be able to ride along them.
Jakkal has disconnected.
"Really?" One brow quirks upward slightly, but that smile on her face remains passively polite. "You sound rather like her, I think. Of course, I cannot speak to whether you loiter or not," and Sunni, for all that she's sitting here, hasn't been loitering long, "and as I am nothing like my sister, it would stand to reason that you are nothing like me." Jakkal's departure is incentive enough to have the candidate ease herself down from her chosen perch. Which then brings her to, "Are you here for something or-? Well." Best to leave /that/ thought unspoken. "I might be able to help."
Again, "I am /nothing/ like her. Or you. Any of you." And that settles it for Tiriana, because she's standing up from the fence just as Jakkal leaves. "I was on my way out. Iovniath just wanted me to say hi to An'dren so she could talk to Riuth before we went. And now I'm going." Her feathers are the ruffled ones now, as she dusts herself off briefly from the fence and then turns toward the waiting gold.
"Mm. I see. Well, do take care, Tiriana," is called after, that smile seeming to brighten just a touch when the goldrider goes. There's even a wave tossed after, though perhaps more for Iovniath than the rider. Any other comment is thusly restrained and redirected into a slight shake of her head. And then Sunniva's off and plucking at her clothes, heading away at a slight angle toward the caverns to a much needed bath.