[Log] Why Women Cry
Who: Jazra, M'yr, R'dur
When: Day 6, Month 3, Turn 7, 11th Interval
Where: The Sandbar, Ista Weyr
What: R'dur runs into a pair of Istans at the Sandbar.
Ista Weyr -- The Sandbar
This dockside tavern stretches over the water, accessible from beach, docks or harbour itself. The light sound of slapping waves can be heard beneath the floorboards, and there are no walls, allowing tropical breezes to waft through and indulging patrons in panoramic ocean views. The carved wooden bar takes up the north end of the room, covered with a wood and reed roof that protects it from impromptu showers. The rest of the booths rest along the outside of the floor, all situated to be oceanside and set with brightly coloured cushions. The thatched wood roof continues along those booths leaving the center of the area open-air, though a metal canopy rests along the outside of one wall, ready to be drawn atop for rain or Threadfall. Further to the north and south the beach continues on for kilometers, black sand sparkling in the bright afternoon sun. Waves wash upon the beach with a steady roar, sending spray flying into the air at the furthest end of the beach to the south where a collection of rocks litter the shoreline.
The wet season oppresses the island with high humidity and sweltering temperatures.
Contents:
M'yr
Obvious exits:
Beach Docks
M'yr
Is it brown or is it black? Difficult to say what color the short mop of straight hair is on this lad of 22 Turns, 8 months, and 22 days, other than to deem it.. naturally streaked. Though his hair is well out of his eyes, he habitually rakes his fingers through it though being so straight, it never stays where he puts it. Equally dark eyes and brows accent his rather long face, chin prominently jutting out and slightly to the left, as if a remnant of a tussle long ago that's left behind its mark. This characteristic tends to alter his smile into a wide, lopsided grin that hints of a teasing nature. His long torso is visibly too thin, accenting long legs and arms that somehow manage with decent attempts to keep this youth upright. Both hands are large and strong, calloused from turns of hard work, circling one finger is a rather large ringOne might think him bowlegged, though he will adamantly insist the runners are responsible for making him that way!
Styled with the intent of being casual but also comfortable is the trademark of M'yr's short-sleeved shirt. Woven carefully with hues ranging from sand to brass, it has been designed to fit loose about the shoulders and chest. The sleeves extend to each elbow before being thickly tapered by matching threads in such a way that it may seem undetected at first. Along the collar, a more pronounced 'V' is evident, dipping forward from his collarbone by a finger-length. With the intent to be worn in or outside of trousers, the use of lighter weaves and flaxen combinations were very important, which resulted in an overall soft quality and feel. The trous themselves are made from a durable weave of blues, dyed to a deep navy color. Fitting to his waist, beltloops are firmly stitched at intervals. Intended for Istan weather, they extend past his knees by two fingertips. Well worn but highly polished boots are laced up snugly. Over his shoulder is a fancy Istan Weyrsecond's knot of black and yellow with a twine of bronze for his lifemate, Soldreth. designating him as a member of Belior Wing. An additional patch on his sleeve denotes him as the Leader of Ista Weyr's Search and Rescue Team.
M'yr reclines at one of the far tables, a drink on the table before him, his long legs parked atop the opposite chair. He's sucking on a small sliver of wood, perhaps what he's picked off the edge of the table. Next to him is a pile of hides, forgotten for the moment, his eyes on a young barmaid serving a couple not far from him. "Refill here," he calls out jovially, "when you're ready?" She just about ignores him, but for a quick sidelong glance.
Slipping into the bar from the beach is R'dur, the brownrider taking the time to stamp his feet free of clinging sand before tracking further inside. In one hand is a small, bulging bag. Glancing nervously around without really seeing, the man steps up to the bar and has the audacity to ask, "Um. Do you--do you just have... juice?"
M'yr notices the new entrant, dark eyes rising from the lass' rump to the Telgari brownrider. Slipping upward quickly, he loops an arm above his head, a giant-sized wave to R'dur. "Heya! R'dur! Look at what the Istan winds blew in! Hey! How're you doing??" is yelled out, a few bar frequenters glancing from M'yr then to R'dur curiously. "And Kip, how about one of your Weyrling's Delights for the Telgari?"
Jerking around quickly, R'dur widens his eyes, then relaxes, offering a hesitant smile. "Oh, um. Hello, sir," he tells M'yr then. "But--weyrling's delight?" He glances around between the bartender and the bronzerider, brows knitting. "That's--that's suitable for weyrlings?" Obviously.
M'yr immediately stands, weaving his way through a few tables to step closer to R'dur at the bar. "Ya. The Delight's a nice drink if you're looking for something without alcohol. Kip, a nice big glass for the man, will ya?" Said bartender just grins, lining up several drinks previously ordered, then completes the Delight, sending the glass sliding across the bar's counter toward the Telgari. "Sir. Heh. I'm not sure I'll ever get used to that, ya know? So. How've you been?"
"Oh. Right," agrees R'dur, nodding. He eyes the drink passed to him dubiously, then takes a small sip. "I don't... really drink," he admits then. "But this--it's very good, thank you. How are you, sir, and Soldreth?" He slips into a seat, setting his bag down as well. "Will you join me, then? I just, well. I just stopped in for a moment, on my way back to Telgar."
M'yr eyes the stool next to R'dur then returns to his table to get his drink. As he returns to slip onto the stool next to R'dur, he chuckles. "Behaving, R'dur. Behaving. Something quite new to me, I guess." At this, he winks, then shoves his mostly empty glass toward the barkeep who nods. "You've heard the news? V'lano decided to make me his 'Second. How unlikely is that? Poor Ista!"
Jazra wanders in from the beach.
Jazra has arrived.
Jazra
Dark steely gray eyes look out of a pert face, her raven hair has been cut around her ears, but no amount of cutting can tame the curls that frame the upper portion of her face. Her mouth swings in a crooked curve, her skin tanned bronze. Earrings made of sapphire glass hang from her ears. A white set of teeth is a sharp contrast to her tanned skin.
From head to toe Jazra's body is svelt and muscular. She's small boned and small chested, with delicate hands and small fingers. Her shoulders are muscular in proportion to her body, as are her legs. She has small feet and toes, like every other part of her. She's very small for a sixteen turn old, about 5'4" without a pound of spare flesh.
A simple tunic, dyed a deep abyssal indigo and without sleeves, hangs around mid thigh. A pair of sandy colored khaki shorts with extra pockets on the thighs hangs around her knees. A belt made of glass beads, shells, and small bells holds up the baggy garment. Thick heavy brown boots, lined with wherry down and very sturdy. A necklace of smooth round beads made of volcanic glass hangs around her neck. A thick black demin backpack, a longbow and a quiver of arrows hangs from her back. A simple bronze handled belt knife is sheathed at her belt. Several simple but colorful glass rings adorn her fingers. An additional, smaller knife is hidden in her right boot. And underneath the boots she has strings of small shells tied around her ankles.
R'dur's brows arch, surprised. "Oh, congratulations, sir. I hadn't heard, no--not much news from Ista makes it to Telgar, actually," he confesses with a shrug and another small sip of his drink. "Do you--I mean, is it--do you enjoy the job? How is the Weyrleader? I haven't spoken to him in, well. A very long time. He was--he was my wingleader, you know, before Wingleader T'bay was appointed."
M'yr's return is to nod his head sagely after catching the refilled drink that Kip sends sliding his way. "It's odd, isn't it? That he would want the likes of me that close to him?" A shrug comes before he takes a drink. "The job's not bad. He took me out of being an assistant weyrlingmaster but left me with Search and Rescue so there have been some changes. V'lano's been in and out, lately. A lot of business to tend to, I guess. I didn't know he was your wingleader. No kidding? How was that?"
R'dur pauses, brows knitting. "The... likes of you?" he queries slowly. Then, perhaps realizing he's prying, he adds, "I'm sorry. I--um. Nevermind. It was... well, it was fine. He was a good wingleader, and T'bay seconded him for a time before he became wingleader. I... I didn't expect to be his wingsecond after that, though. It is a change, really, to be... to be in a position such as, well. You'd--you'd know." A shrug; he takes a great amount of interest in his drink.
Jazra comes walking into the Sandbar, trailing an empty, rather wet looking sack that has a faint fishy smell. She looks quite pleased with herself as she orders a mug of iced klah and, spotting M'yr, walks over. "M'yr, hello, guess what I just delivered to the Weyr kitchens?" She's definately pleased with herself as she stows the empty sack under her chair and takes a seat at the table nearest the two riders.
Jazra pages to M'yr and R'dur: I just woke up from a nap, so if my posing sounds a little crazy bear with me please.
M'yr understands, the smile he sends complete with a touch of sympathy. "We don't always get along, V'lano and I, though I must admit it has been better lately. As for changes into positions? I totally understand. As I mentioned..." A pause comes, a twitch then a wrinkled nose preceeds the smell that Jazra brings in. The Weyrsecond glances to his Telgari companion as if by apology. "Let me guess? Fish?" is asked, light smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
R'dur, again, is surprised by that news, his expression his every thought. "I--I--oh. I didn't... I didn't realize. I'm sorry," he tells M'yr apologetically. He seems about to say more, but when Jazra hails M'yr, he falls silent, glancing briefly her way then turning to study the remainder of his drink, rather than eavesdrop so blatantly on their conversation.
M'yr's curiosity shows by another glance to the sack, then the one near R'dur. "I think I should have a sack too, just to fit in, eh?" he asks the Telgari with a grin. "No need to be sorry at all. As I said, it's better now. I just stay out of his way and say 'sir' a lot." The grin widens, "He likes that. So, R'dur. Did you have business here at Ista? Or get thirsty on your way home? Oh! Please excuse my rudeness! How is your weyrmate?"
R'dur glances down at his bag with a small smile, admitting, "Bri--Brijana, I mean--Brijana is well. She, ah, she asked me to come pick up some... shells and things to decorate our weyr. It still looks--well. I didn't exactly decorate much by myself, so." He shrugs sheepishly, sipping his drink slowly. "I checked the beaches out--I hope you don't mind?" That thought belatedly occurring to him, he glances worriedly up at the weyrsecond.
M'yr's response is warm, welcoming. "Mind? Of course not! I'd hope you and she would visit more often, actually! It's good to have a smiling face to look at, if you know what I mean? Ahh, it's hard, when you have friends, then gain rank, only to find that you've become the enemy. Maybe that's why I've come to understand V'lan.." The thought is cut short, then he clears his throat and begins anew. "Have you seen the docks? I used to work there when I first came to Ista."
R'dur's smile is hesitant, strengthening slowly. "Thank you. We stopped by the other night--she's always wanted me to take her to Ista, ever since, well." He blushes and glances away a moment, before continuing, "Ah, yes. I... I suppose so? I don't know, really. I mean, I haven't really noticed, myself, but... Ah, V'lan?" Briefly curious, before shaking his head and answering: "Not the ones here, no."
M'yr curls a leg around the stool, one arm draping across the countertop casually. His drink loses a mouthful, the 'Second toying with it before replying with his own question. "She wanted to come to Ista? For the shells?" is offered before he goes on, "V'lano. I didn't really end what I was saying. Sorry."
Jazra listens to the two riders for a little bit, then grins as she sinks into a chair. "Spiderclaws, had to go a long ways up the beach to get them." She adds. "I also found the shells of a firelizard nest, but it had hatched already." She adds, sounding disappointed.
"Oh!" R'dur blushes at the correction, ducking his head in embarrassment. After a moment, he clears his throat and notes, "Um, well. Yes. I think? It's just... Well, she had me get flowers for her from here, once, when we first met, and, well. It's just... I don't know. She wanted to come see it--she'd never been before--and so we finally came." He shrugs.
M'yr considers all that, nodding a few times. "Women like flowers, don't they? They're nice but shards. They don't last, you know? At least not for very long. My Ma used to get mad at my Da if he didn't bring them home now and again, so I can understand. How long have you two been together? I only met her once, seems like a nice enough person."
"They do, I think," agrees R'dur. "At least, I know Bri does. She's very... She's like that," is his inadequate explanation. "It's been... about two turns now." His eyes widen as he calculates. "I didn't--I didn't think it'd been so long already. It was... it was just after Ysalia was born, though."
Jazra pages to M'yr and R'dur: back.
M'yr repeats, "Ysalia? Who's that? Or is that your little?" is asked as his drink is finished, the glass pushed aside as he stretches both arms and settles back again. "It'd make sense, I guess, to move in with someone if you share a babe? I don't know. Seems like more trouble than it's worth to be honest."
Jazra listens to this talk of families. "I don't have a mate at all, but I know that my mother preferred something more permanent, particularly if it came out of my dad's glassforge, as a gift." She says as she sips her drink. "Flowers die, glass can last for one sharding long time."
R'dur glances back and forth between M'yr and Jazra uncertainly. "Ysalia is my daughter," he admits. "With Weyrsecond Yselle." Serious blushing ensues, though still mixed with a fair share of pride. "She's--she's two and a quarter now. Ah. Oh. I'm--I'm R'dur, by the way, Alidaeth's of Telgar." Belatedly, he offers Jazra an introduction.
M'yr motions to the knot on R'dur's shoulder. "Wingsecond R'dur, actually." is said with a smile. "A daughter. I find that thought so odd. What's it like to be a Da?" is asked curiosly after nodding an affirmation to Jazra. "I'm not sure what Nolee likes. Maybe flowers. Maybe glass. She's never said, though I must say I've never asked."
Jazra pinks. "Oh dear, I'm sorry I misunderstood. I'm Jazra of South Boll, you both can call me Jaz." She says with a, not quite cheerful smile, but close enough for her semi serious demeanor. "I'm a hunter, I've been helping out around the Weyr and I'm hoping to be allowed to stay." She says as she sips at her drink again. "After all, you can never have enough food right? I was usually hunting or gathering this or that back home, I figure I could do the same here."
R'dur's blush intensifies, but he offers a shy smile. "It's... different. Strange. I'm not sure what to think, even now," he confesses. A pause. "It really makes one appreciate one's own parents." Mildly, he shrugs, his flush fading slowly. "Nolee? Ah, junior weyrwoman Nolee? Ah, I see. A hunter? From Southern Boll? I've been there once or twice."
M'yr hand-punts his now empty glass back to Kip who laughs, sending him a mock salute of affirmation. As M'yr waits for his drink, he chuckles. "I keep getting different ideas of weyrmating. When I asked Claia, she was all giggly and thrilled, but that's the woman's side of things. I.." he begins then cuts it off, to nod to R'dur. "Our junior gold, yes." That said, his drink arrives, Kip now waiting expectantly this time. Out comes just enough payment to cover his and R'dur's drinks. "Another?" is asked of the Wingsecond, before he pauses, to wait while R'dur's questions are answered.
Jazra nods. "It's a little slice of paradise. Probably not as good as Southern, but there's a lot to do there. There's the Weaver Hall, and there's some really good glass workshops, and even better there's some gem mines there as well. My mother's engagement present from my father was a ruby pendent that Dad had set in some crimson colored glass. But I'm... not very good at the family trade, nearly burned myself. I haven't met this Nolee person yet. Aside from being a junior, what's she like?"
R'dur arches his brows. "Oh. Um. Yes, I supose," he agrees with M'yr after a moment. "Bri... Bri /cried/." Pause. "Well, actually, she was already crying." He blushes again, faintly, at that admission, but continues bravely. "It was... well, it was not very... paradise-like, when I was there. It was during the, the monsoon a few turns back, at the Gather. Most unfortunate." He shakes his head, adds, "Southern... Southern's climate is paradise, if you like that sort of thing. Very Istan, parts of it. I didn't like it very much, though."
M'yr pulls out the partial marks to cover R'dur's next drink, pushing them across the counter to the barkeep who takes it and moves away to fulfill the new order. "Weyrwoman Nolee's absolutely fantastic, actually. There never was a greater woman than her, at least not that I've met, Jazra. She'd do pretty much whatever she could for you, within reason." Then to R'dur, "Women cry to make men do things they may not want to, don't they? It's happened to me, and I have a hard time resisting."
Jazra rolls her eyes. "I've never cried, except when I was a baby. And I wouldn't ask any man to do something for me that I wouldn't do myself. That's fair. And I can't wait to meet her if she's that good. I haven't met Nolee yet. Maybe you could introduce me to her sometime." She says with her usual small smile.
This time, R'dur catches M'yr's paying, and he pales. "No, no--please, don't. I have--I have--" He delves into a pocket hastily to pull out his own marks, pushing them back toward the bronzerider. And, uncertainly, he adds, "I don't mind. I mean, doing things. If she wants me to. Really. It's the least--I mean, I don't... I really don't mind."
M'yr holds up a dismissive hand to R'dur, a smile and wink sent as Kip's assistant, a young barmaid delivers the drink. "You can get them next time, eh?" he quips jovially as he returns the marks to the Telgari Wingsecond. "Say. Do you like boats? When I was on vacation, my Da fixed it up so I could borrow a boat. The Wind Chaser it was called. Very comfortable, very smooth ride. Perhaps you and your weyrmate would like to join us for a jaunt sometime?" Jazra is sent a nod, indicating he may provide the introductions at some future time.
Jazra leans back in her chair with a soft sigh. "That's a good thing." She says with a nod. "Some women prefer somebody who's willing to provide for them. "I can't sail, I've always enjoyed being on the water though." She comments as she sips her drink. "And R'dur, if somebody had offered me a free drink, I'd have gone for it." She says with a lip quirk. "But seriously, a private boat sounds really romantic M'yr."
R'dur frowns unhappily. "I--yes, sir," he concedes, sighing with reluctance. Then: "Oh? Um. Oh, really. I--I'll ask Bri. I don't know if she's ever been on a boat before. Me, I haven't since... well, in about six turns or so now, since I came north." A pause, and he glances at Jazra. "Um. Well. Bri is..." He trails off there, perhaps wisely.
M'yr pursues R'dur's last statement, "North from where? I don't believe I ever asked? If so, my apologies for my forgetfulness. And yes, I guess boats can be romantic, but it depends on who's on them and what they're there for. I once had to set a schooner up for a meeting of Holders. Nothing but the best for them."
Jazra stays silent for a little bit, just enjoying her drink and the company. She turns to look out the window, then digs into a pouch and pulls out her journal. She opens it and starts writing. Just writing. The scratch scratch of the stylus works its way across the page. She listens to the talk before turning to M'yr. "I know this is way off topic, but is there anything that I'd have to do to join the Search and Rescue team at Ista? I talked with Cynara about it awhile ago and it sounds interesting."
"Er, well." R"dur falters, then answers, "I'm from the South. The Southern Continent, I mean. The edge of Southern Weyr's coverage area. I ended up at Igen, then Telgar, and, well. Just stayed, really." He shrugs, taking a sip of his drink as he quiets for Jazra's question.
M'yr had just raised his glass to his lips, pausing it there as sable eyes turn to regard Jazra curiously. Slowly, he drinks, glashes a glance to R'dur then answers with a tinge of humor in his reply, "Become a member of the weyr then find me to talk?" Down goes the glass, his attention back to the Telgari again. "You mentioned you didn't like Southern's climate, but you're from there? Is that why you left?"
R'dur shakes his head. "Where I was born--where I grew up--it wasn't like the rest of Southern. It was cooler, more... I'd say closer to Fort than anywhere else, or Ierne, maybe. But, ah. I just... left to... I don't know, really. I just needed to go somewhere else, I suppose. Southern wasn't for me--I have--I had family there, and..." A shake of his head. "Anyway, Telgar suited--suits--me, and with Alidaeth now, and Brijana?" He offers a small smile.
Jazra nods. "I still haven't found the Weyrwoman or whoever to get permission to stay." She sighs as she works her way along the page. She's working her way through the entry, listening to the conversation, despite not looking that way. "I will, how can I contact the Weyrwoman about staying here?" She asks.
M'yr chuckles at R'dur's words, a nod added. "Women and dragons. A match hard to reject, don't you think? Both are wiley and very persuasive. I may settle down some day, I don't know.." his voice trails off as he looks to his drink before answering Jazra. "Soldreth can let her know you're asking our Weyrwoman for time, though you may want to see if Lyss is in her office. Lyss' usually easier to find, given how busy weyrwomen are."
R'dur nods. "I--I suppose so," he agrees. Finishing his drink, though, he stands and gathers up his bag of earlier. "I should go, though; thank you for the drink, sir. It was nice meeting you, ma'am," he tells the pair as he turns to leave.