Politics, Schmolitics
The Who: Talien, Svodriyth and Izarit and Kajrath
The What: Meet and greet, flumoxes and faux pas -- matchmaking and bronzeriders, oh my!
The When: Day 1, month 11, Turn 13, of the Interval
Cameo 'they were there in gossip but not person (and should probably start running)' credits go to: Paddy, Rook, B'yan, A'son, N'thei and the ever loveable I'daur.
Western Bowl, High Reaches Weyr(#880RIJs)
Standing on the western side of the bowl, the high crownlike spires of the Seven Spindles on the north wall tower majestically above the roughly ovoid bowl floor. Near you, a large boulder stands, placed almost exactly in the center of the bowl. This side of the bowl is busy with the constant flow of residents and visitors around the entrance to the living cavern to the southwest and the lower caverns to the west. To the north, the large opening on the upper wall leading into the hatching grounds catches your eye. Directly below it, the ground entrance to the same area seems almost tiny. Northwest, the weyrs belonging to the junior queens of High Reaches are accessible from a short set of stairs and a path of carefully laid black marble leads from them to the entrance to the living cavern. To the south, a few ground weyrs remain unoccupied, in case any visiting or injured dragons need them.
The afternoon is clear, and the sun shines with a few small clouds floating past. A light wind blows and the fall air temperature feels comfortable.
Izarit
Five-foot-eight and moderately curvy, Izarit looks like she's in her late teens. She has wavy hair a handful of shades darker than copper; it's long enough to reach her mid-back when left down. Her hair today is arranged in soft, face-framing curls, loose hairs forming a halo about her head.
Izzy's face is open and honest, round-shaped and freckled across her cheeks and the bridge of her straight nose; full lips grace her mouth. Her eyes, rimmed with smudgy kohl, are bluish, the purity of color somewhat intruded on by darker hazel. The desert sun has served to darken the natural cream of her skin another shade or two, though she's not dark by any means.
Today, Izarit has struck a balance between formal and businesslike by dressing herself in a pair of elegantly tailored charcoal grey pants that swish over her black low-heeled sandals. She also wears a thin, short-sleeved white shirt, partially covered by a low-cut and satiny vest, its royal blue making her kohly eyes look a truer color too. Over this she's thrown a lightweight jacket in a slightly darker grey than her pants.
Kajrath
Polished and lacquered to a lustrous shine, deep walnut brown has been carved to the shape of a dragon so sleek and sharp that he seems almost stylized. He is pointed in visage with a narrow snout and slim, erect headknobs that lend him an alert and mischievous air. A razor-line of serrated neckridges, age-blackened at their bases, spikes down his back and, paired with ebony claws and a long, animated tail, adds a rakish flair to his rangy form. The tight grains of dark, ruddy wood run across his chest and flanks, lines that accentuate his youthful muscle. But here, over well-formed shoulders and haunches, his polish shows careless wear and dull blotches, as if his lacquer is ready to peel away. His wings, when spread, reveal elongated tips like wicked spines and sails adorned with a hint of angular scrolling, as though decoration has been burned into their delicate membranes. He moves with unthinking ease, the grace of a creature comfortable and confident in himself.
Kajrath is 1 Turns, 7 months, and 4 days old and 33.30 meters long. He is 14.12 meters tall at the shoulder and has a wingspan of 53.28 meters.
Talien's back is to the bowl at large which, at the moment, consists mostly of Talien and the blue she stands before. He, looking far too amused, continues to shift his weight to slyly avoid the strap Talien is attempting to loop into place. Talien's stiff-backed posture evidences her annoyance, though she remains otherwise silent. At her feet are a small number of pouches, each packed and tightly shut.
Quite unfamiliar to this northern Weyr, Kajrath appears from /between/ to dive for a landing on the floor of the Reaches bowl. He lands near Svodriyth, skidding up dirt as he does so, and rumbles to the blue while Izarit shudders at the cold and unbuckles herself and the passenger they carry. With thanks offered, the man disappears quickly and the Istan rider tugs her jacket more snugly around herself. "And it's only fall here still?" she remarks aloud, with a glance to the blue and the girl with him.
Svodriyth, shuffling and chuffing with continued amusement at Talien's expense, inadvertently falls still long enough to regard the arrival of the brown and his Istan rider to allow Talien the opportunity to at last snag him with the strap. "I've half a mind to strangle you now, Svodriyth," Talien says in reprimand and, without missing a beat, greets Izarit. "Nearing on winter, soon enough. Talien... Svodriyth's, and you are?" Svodriyth extends a cautious greeting to the brown while simultaneously moving closer to his rider.
"Us?" says the girl. "We're Izzy and Kaj. From Ista." Kajrath rumbles at the blue himself, friendly, while his rider steps forward to offer a hand to Talien in greeting. "Which is why it's freezing--feels like /between/. I don't think I'll be back for a few months, until spring--forget transport duty. They can sun themselves on the beaches or find someone else to take them, I don't care," laughs the rider, shaking her head as she glances around the bowl.
Talien's quite slow in returning the handshake, and there's no outward reason to explain why - her hands are free and she's smiling slightly, apparently engaged in what Izarit is saying. But when she does make contact, it's with both sandwiching Izarit's hand between hers before releasing it. "I'm surprised you aren't frozen solid... did you want something to drink before heading back? I promise it's warmer inside." Her smile reappears even as Izarit glances around the bowl.
The oddity of that handshake earns a furrow of Izzy's brows, and she glances up at Talien again, the brownrider's eyes studying the bluerider's a long oment as she steals her hand back and gives Kajrath a confused, wary look. The brown only whuffs once, but Izzy offers a quick and bright smile in response to the offer, nodding as she recovers. "Oh, that sounds good. What do... I assume the usual things? Klah? Really hot klah sounds wonderful about now. Which way is your living cavern, anyway?" she asks, turning about once more to try to discern that opening in the rock face of the Weyr.
Svodriyth's taken to watching Talien closely, and not so much Izarit and Kajrath. So Talien's reply is as amicable as ever, if only slightly conspiratorial. "If we get in there before the Weyrlingmaster and a few of the other lushes... some of the 'Reaches finest booze. Guess that's what they give folks who need to warm up fast... or at least not care that they're colder than normal." Turning a tight circle counter-clockwise, Talien starts off toward the direction of the living cavern, "I think it's back this way some. Svodriyth-" The blue who launches into the air at Talien's request, "He'll show your Kajrath, if you'd like, and you can follow me."
The mention of booze makes Izarit's brows arch again, and she shares another look with Kajrath at that. "Ah. Well. I don't really hold my liquor very well," she remarks, with a lift of her shoulders. "Though I do like the fruity little mixed drinks they have at the Sandbar. Do you drink a lot up here or something? I think I'd drink, too, if I had to live in this." Her nose wrinkles slightly, but obediently she sets off after Talien, following her guide.
Talien's pace is slow and she partially tilts her chin over her shoulder to better listen to Izarit. Her query earns a small laugh and shake of Talien's head, "I hold my liquor about as well as a cup with a hole in it. The klah... if you're brave enough to try that, then you're more man than you sound." A compliment, really. Turning back to focus on following quite the rigid, razor-straight path she seems stuck upon, Talien adds, "It's cold, sure, but beautiful. Especially when it starts snowing."
"Is there something wrong with your klah?" Izarit is not looking reassured by Talien's words. Though, she does add, "Thank you," to that compliment, however backhanded. "I've never seen snow yet," admits the brownrider as she follows a few paces back, watching Talien's walking curiously. "So maybe I'll find some really warm clothes and come back just once to see that. I do think coats are so cute, not that I've ever really had a need of one, between Igen and now Ista."
"Thirteen.. no, wait-" Talien's light murmur turns near audible at the end, and without directly answering Izarit's questions, asks one of her own. "Is there a big - there should be a set of stairs near here, somewhere.. and the entrance to the living caverns - it's.. marble, there's a marble path." Stepping then to where she's pinpointed Izarit to be, Talien offers, "The klah's not so bad, it's just always a wager whether you'll get the strong stuff or the weak stuff. Mostly it's just cold, or is by the time I get to it, anyways." Talien's nervous tick - rushed words in one quick breath - has her drawing in a sharp breath. "If you're still cold, you're welcome to a coat. I think I have an extra one on - oh stuff it, I forgot all about those packs. Listen, the cavern is by that path - Svodriyth say's we're almost there so just keep going straight 'till you hit it and I'll be right there."
Izarit stops entirely when Talien does, glancing back at Kajrath and Svodriyth and then to Talien again. The blind leading the blind indeed. "It's--this one, I think," she says slowly, as she steps around the bluerider toward the entrance to the living cavern. "Over here--to your right, and, um." Her directions-giving falters as she watches Talien. Then: "Should I go pick that stuff up for you?" she asks.
"Yeah, I lost count. Happens, sometimes, 'cause I get to listening what people are saying and forget where I am." Talien's admission carries a little color to her cheeks, but she's already backing away, ready to turn and retrieve her packs before further embarrassing herself. "Svodriyth says you're at the right one, too, and just as soon as I get that coat for you, I'll be right back. Satiet'd have my head if I let you turn into an icecicle."
"Count," says Izarit, with a curious look, but she asks for no more clarification than that. Instead, quickly, she shakes her head and then tells Talien, holding her hands up in a stop gesture that goes unseen. "No, don't--it's not important. I'll warm up inside by the fire, really. Or at least let me get it myself; you shouldn't--" She doesn't finish that, only frowns slightly.
"You're Istan," Talien taunts, her demeanor changing slightly but enough that all pretense is abandoned, "You're liable to set yourself afire since you won't be warm enough until you're /in/ the fire." Wordy repartee delivered, she adds a less mocking, "Might not be able to see but I can mostly find my way."
"Oh, no," says Izarit quickly, nose wrinkling at the suggestion. "That'd leave awful scars, being burned like that, and one scar is enough for me, thank you very much. Besides, I'm Igenite." Pause. "Not that that's such an inspiring vote in favor of my ability to withstand the cold, either," concedes the brownrider after a moment. She concedes, though, "If you don't mind, I'd appreciate it, thanks."
"Oh." Now embarrassed and with a smile that's more of an open mouthed grimace, Talien amends, "I knew you were Is-Igenite... I just... Anyways, someone'll bring it along soon. Svodriyth said we were taking too long so he asked someone to get it for us-" At the loud chuff from the blue, who is somewhat beside Kajrath and looking humbled enough for him and Talien, Talien adds, "He says I'm to say sorry, too, since threatening to shove folks into the fire is bad politics." Striding purposefully, if somewhat just slightly off-target in her path toward the entrance to the 'caverns, Talien adds, "I /hate/ politics."
"Oh." Izarit is chastened then, hastening to explain, "I'm Istan, too--well, I impressed at Ista, and I ride there, but my family and I are all out of Igen so it's more my home still in some ways, I suppose. We're traders, so this whole being from one little Weyr is strange for me still." She shrugs, though, and nods to the explain of the coat before she realizes that won't be seen, either. "That's nice of him; tell him I say thank you," she asks of Talien, as she turns to step instead herself. And then pause, and add awkwardly, "Ah. A little... rightward--your right, I mean, and you have it."
"I remember you said Ista... and then you mentioned the Sandbar and I was supposed to go to that Sandbar place you mentioned, but the guy who was going to take me said he wanted to take someone else and then Svodriyth threatened... um, right, anyways I just figured if you were an Istan rider you were /Istan/." Talien ducks her head and corrects her path to follow Izarit's directions. "Igen's nice, though. 'least that's what I hear." Talien's hand finds the curve of the entranceway and she follows it in, her body half turned to let her hear Izarit's reply.
"You should come see it," says Izarit, and stops again. "Er. Well, you know what I mean. Can you... can you /between/? Or do you mind a random stranger asking you weird questions, or...?" She tilts her head as she trails off, the words lilting into a question as she leads the way into the hall, keeping a slow pace that Talien can keep up with.
"Sure do. You meant I should come smell it, right? 'cause everyone's always telling me my hearing is as bad as my seeing, seeing how I don't really listen all that well." Beat. "Mind? Geeze..I'll show you my scar if you show me yours. Makes for good conversation." Talien's humor is off-beat, dark and quite likely inappropriate, but it's delivered in a light-hearted manner, "I /can't/, no, though I figure Svodriyth still can. Worse that happens is we take a head dive into a sand dune, right?" A flash of a smile accompanies the barb, Talien quickly turning soon after to make her way through the cavern. She's mostly fortunate people take to getting out of her way as opposed to letting her get around them, and she's also taking for granted that Izarit will keep up.
Izarit grins all the same, however dark the humor. "Think I can see yours already, though mine's in a place I don't generally show when it's quite this cold out," she drawls in answer. "Got caught by a dragon at Kajrath's hatching--the bronze that ended up picking the guy next to me. Who promptly abandoned me, bleeding my life out onto the sands, to deal with the thing. Some friend, huh?" is the explanation she offers with a shake of her head, wry. "The sand dunes are soft, at least--what's worse is the rocky parts of the desert. It doesn't smell like much of anything there, though--but Ista does. It's too flowery, gives me a headache some days to put up with all the fruitiness."
Rather somberly, Talien touches two fingers to her heart, "I solemnly swear I will say to any lovers who come knocking and asking whether I saw this cold-fearing region you speak of... that I hadn't seen a thing. Your honor will remain intact." Upon which she ends her theatrics by executing a stiff, mocking (of the action and not the brownrider) bow. She finds the table with outstretched hands, and with only a little exploring, finds the klah and starts to pour two mugs. "Guys suck. I've begun to see that. 'cause, see, the one guy who was supposed to take me to the Sandbar is the guy I kissed and then had to punch 'cause he was saying bad things about me. Then the other guy I kinda liked... well, he's sweet on someone else. And don't even get me started on N'thei." There is a distinct clipping of her tone and an ending to her prattling as she cautions, "Might want to say when for when I get close. I'd stick my finger in yours but Svodriyth says that's bad politics, too."
"I like 'em," says Izarit, with a broad smirk. "There's good one out there. Rook--his bronze is the one that got me--and Paddy, Kajrath's sire's rider. I think his mother lives here, I don't really remember, though. A few of the others from our clutch, and of course I've half a dozen brothers that are all respectable in varying degrees," she notes as she moves on in to the klah, watching with arching brows as Talien pours. "Who's N'thei? That's enough, I think--thank you."
"Oh I like them too, it's just finding the ones that like /me/." Talien tips the pitcher back and sets it aside when 'when' is said, "I'm still learning this whole thing-" She circles her face with her hands then waggles her fingers, "So I figure that's not helping. And Svodriyth's protective and pretty much threatens the ones who try." She pauses for a breath, eventually lingering in silence as she situates the cup in her palm, keeping her thumb just inside the rim and touching the hot liquid as she had when pouring her mug. Only when she's satisfied with the arrangement does she reply, and this too is done in a slow manner. "One of the boys I Impressed with. We're kinda friends, I think, but he went off and left us, so I'm not so sure I like him anymore." Beat. "They're the worse, aren't they? Those bronzeriders? A'son's not, but pretty much the rest are."
Izarit frowns slightly at Talien, sympathy in the expression the bluerider can't see. "If you ever get down to Ista, you should meet my brother. He's a goofball, pretty fun, totally hopeless with the girls. I haven't been able to make one stick to him yet, and I just keep throwing them at him, too," she remarks with a shrug as she leans up against the table idly. "You should let me do that, still," she notes of the pouring, though she doesn't move to usurp the activity from Talien. "I like them, too. R'klen's fun--he blushes a lot. Tries to act tough but he's so not. I should meet A'son. And N'thei. You'll have to introduce me some time."
Considerately, Talien suggests, "They've got this recipe in the kitchens here... sticky buns, I think, and the stuff they put on it... it's really sweet and sticky as all get out. 'course it's not permanent but-" Talien smiles at her own joke, half-pursing her lips with the effort. At Izarit's request, Talien hesitates before conceding with a stiff nod. A little less jittery, she replies, "He's kinda like B'yan. That's another bronzerider and I like him. He's my kindabrother." Bitting down on her knuckle to force a small pause, Talien then adds, "N'thei's gone to Fort... guess his Wyaeth caught some queen there--" A mutter best not repeated falls into garbled noises with only it's ending half intelligible. "A'son's... me and A'son are friends, even if he's kinda old. Not like you and me - 'least I think you're young like me 'cause you sound it... but he's old..er. And nice. He got burned when I did."
"You make dumb jokes like Caz," Izarit decides, sounding pleased by that. "He'd think that was hilarious, I'm sure. And you'd like him better because you can't see those ugly Istan-style shirts he wears, with the big gaudy flowers everywhere." She shudders delicately at that, as she finishes pouring the drink and slides it over to Talien, making sure the bluerider can feel where it is, before she picks up her own mug for a sip. "Ciath?" she supplies quickly. "He was the one that caught Ciath, at Fort? Paddy got caught up in that--I, er, talked to him afterward." She takes a great deal of interest in her drink then, sipping it slowly before noting, "Nothing wrong with this klah, at least, that a lot of sweetener and milk won't fix. I just turned twenty-one, incidentally, but I suppose I'm young at heart," she laughed. "Burned, like you? He's... Oh. I see." Pause. "Sorry."
Svodriyth> Kajrath senses that Svodriyth's touch is unfamiliar, and he makes that much obvious before even venturing a word or twelve. << Baby girl, >> Talien's image is drawn into focus, and then faded away, << She's got a runaway mouth when she's nervous 'bout stuff. >> There's a roll and go flow to his pause and how his words pick up, a charming bit of airy casualness he carries so well. << Told her to stop, but she don' listen. Hope your lil'bit don' mind. >>
Dragon> Svodriyth senses that Kajrath's mind is a rush of grey-green colors and the sense of night and running, undaunted. << What's yours nervous about? Mine doesn't get nervous, >> he boasts proudly. << Izzy talks a lot, too--she doesn't mind. She just keeps thinking she's going to say something about how yours is all messed up and make her mad or something. >> Nevermind Kajrath is a lot less polite about it than Izarit.
"Ah, but if I could see and I did see them? I'd probably go blind." Talien returns with an effortless smile - she's apparently well aware that her jokes are quite dumb, and takes no insult from the assessment. At Izarit's sudden interest in her drink, resultant of the topic leading to it, Talien says, "Yeah, I think so. I kinda got mad when I heard and didn't listen to the rest." It's an awkwardly cautious sidestepping of the topic as a whole, now, with Talien's brow furrowed and her head canted as though if she listened hard enough she might just 'see' what it is she's missing. Her incentive fades with Izarit's later words, "You're older like A'son. Maybe I oughta introduce the two of you - he's all kinds of good." Quickly, she adds, "He's got scars, probably, but nothin' like me. He lost most of his hair and got burned on his chest." Talien's mouth closes abruptly, as she abandons what might've followed. Whatever that was surely has something to do with the pinking of her cheeks.
"Ah, but you beat him to the draw," laughs Izarit, as Talien's good humor regarding her infirmity rubs off and relaxes the Istan brownrider. "Let's go sit," she suggests, straightening and taking a couple of steps backward from the drink table. "Apparently I'm ancient now. But there's something to be said for experienced men, I suppose--not that /I'd/ know what it is, of course. He's not, er, bald now, is he? Because that's... not exactly attractive, no offense. He sounds nice, anyway, right? I'd still love to meet him."
Svodriyth> Kajrath senses that Svodriyth's quick to reply, all good nature and sunny smiles. << Just how my girl is. Ain't nothin' bad and she learns better when she's the one stickin' her foot in her mouth. >> An electric pause hangs between those words and his next, << She don' gotta worry none. Even if she made my baby girl mad, ain't no way my girl'll hit yours. >>
Dragon> Svodriyth senses that Kajrath's curiousity sheds moonlight on his forest-dark thoughts. << Does she hit lots of other people? >> he wonders, words rustling through his mind. << Mine hasn't ever hit anything. Or gotten it--she's not a fighter. >>
Talien moves just seconds after Izarit does, still following the brownrider by keeping her engaged in conversation. "He's got hair now, sure.. and I figure he's the type who's.. you know, experienced and stuff." Another full fledged flush hits Talien square in the cheeks and by the way she keeps clearing her throat, she knows she's blushing. "He's nice looking, yeah. I mean, even with those scars I bet he's still just as...I mean I know he is because I sort of saw...he's good lookin' trust me," Talien finally forces out.
Svodriyth> Kajrath senses that Svodriyth's reply carries the weight of a 'no', though isn't quite said so concretely. << Baby girl took a few swings but she ain't all that good at hittin' what she can't see. >> He does seize a boasting opportunity when it's at hand and quite proudly so, << My girl's a fighter... all's I gotta do is get her t'be smart about it. >>
Talien's blush inspires a broadening smile in Izarit, the brownrider raising a brow slowly the more the bluerider rambles on regarding A'son. "Scars can be rakish and manly," she remarks offhand. "They sound very dashing. It's not like I've escaped without one myself, after all, though not very noble, I suppose. It's not a very inspiring story telling how you were too busy talking to notice the bronze dragon rushing at you." She shrugs, though, cheerful still, as she moves to sit down. "He's not... taken, is he? This A'son of yours?" She tilts her head curiously, studying Talien's expression expectantly.
"That's what I told him. But... see, he's old like you, so it's kinda like me saying I think all of I'daur's scars are--are..." Talien makes a grand show of any number of small, nauseous faces, "I can't even say it, see?" Rounding her thumb against the rim of her mug, Talien listens to Izarit's retelling of her scar story. It lingers in her expression as she distractedly answers Izarit, "Hm? No.. I don't think so. I bet I can set you up, though. He's all kinds of smart and sometimes listens to me-" Contradiction aside, "You ever feel funny knowin' that you're...y'know, you got something like that that the other folks don't got?" As for her expression... it's as wide open as a book; earnest and endeared when talking of A'son, guarded and worried come talk of scars.
"I don't know I'daur, either," says Izarit, sounding very mystified. "Does he have sexy scars, too?" Her head cants again, but she pulls up short at the latter question, not even completing the nod she begins as Talien tells her more about A'son. "Ah," she begins, and halts again. "I don't... They always say Istan dragons are very violent--there were a couple of other people hurt at my hatching, and I've met others with scars like mine, too. But it's still... weird. I don't like them looking at it, but at the same time, I don't really make any effort to hide it because... I don't know," she admits, unusually serious herself.
There's no play about Talien's fumbling and eventually dropping of her mug, and the hastened curse as she realizes what she's done. "Geeze, don't /say/ that! He's... he's I'daur," Talien's face clearly convey's what is common knowledge and she stresses the Weyrlingmaster's name, "He's /way/ old and really grumpy and drinks enough to make a fish look dry. Plus he's all...I'daur." Pity the somewhat fond half-smile ruins the otherwise volatile bedamnings of said bronzerider. "--yeah, though, I get what you're saying. Kinda like you failed right off the bat, right?" Asked in an undertone and while perhaps meant to be a real question, is none the less turned rhetorical for all that Talien adds, "Suppose I can introduce you to him, too, if you want. Me'n him head the Weyrlings 'cause we're both too lame to do real work."
Izarit just raises a brow at Talien's smile and the vehemency of her renouncements of I'daur. "I should meet him, too," she notes, as she reaches quickly for a napkin to clean up whatever the dropping of the mug has spilled. A sip of her own heavily milk-and-sugared klah ensues. "You'll have to introduce me, to both of them. But, er." The serious question again makes her pause, hesitating a moment before nodding. "Something like that," she agrees. "It's all... I don't know. It's not really that bad, though. I mean, I made lots of jokes about being paralyzed, but it was never..." She shrugs.
"I'm just warnin' you... I'daur's... y'know - well you don't, but once you meet him you will." Talien's not to be convinced otherwise, and nods firmly to cement that fact. She tries to keep that same airy manner about the serious topic and can even manage a smile when Izarit mentions joking. "Svodriyth says some of us get hurt 'cause we're just that good... we need a bit of a challenge," Light dawns and a comment slips past without Talien thinking twice: "Y'know, if that's true? I'daur's gotta be one helluva strong guy. You'll see that too.. I mean he's /covered/." Then, "But, y'know, if scars aren't your thing? My kindabrother... he's, well... his name's B'yan. He's kinda the friendly type."
"Covered? Seen this for yourself, have you?" asks Izarit, raising a brow and smirking as Talien describes I'daur to her. "Might have to see just how right you are. Not that I'm /that/ kind of girl, mind you, but. You're just determined to throw every man you know at me now, aren't you? B'yan, A'son, I'daur, N'thei... I'll have a boy in every Weyr before long. Not that I'm complaining one bit, mind you. And--I like that. We're so good we need a challenge. I think I'll use that one myself now, if you and Svodriyth don't mind."
"Sure you can. Go ahead and tell all the others they can too, 'cause it's true and the truth never hurts." Talien agrees willingly and quickly to Izarit asking permission; she's less agreeable to the I'daur remark. "Oh geeze, no. I'd happily run through fire to avoid having to see /that/. He's-" Talien, lip curling and all, just dismisses the nightmarish idea all together. "And sure, why not? They're my friends and I figure if they can't help themselves, I'll help them. 'cause, see, B'yan's all friendly and stuff but he's sometimes a little full of himself. And N'thei's - he's a good guy 'cept for when he's all googly eyed 'cause he can't see anything else then. And then I kinda worry 'bout A'son... wait. You're not ugly, are you? They'd hate me for sure if you were and I sent them your way." Blunt and bland, it's hard to say whether Talien's serious or joshing.
"I'll have Kajrath send you a picture," Izarit says, laughing at Talien's question, and the brown quickly obliges. "Not doctored or anything. I think I'm rather fetching myself, you know, but I suppose everyone thinks that about themselves. Googly-eyed?" she questions that unfamiliar word.
"Stop me if I hit one... snaggle tooth? Got all your hair? Two 'brows and no hair growin' outta places that aren't supposed to have hair?" Talien can't quite keep a smile hidden, adding, "See, now, B'yan's totally out of your league 'cause he /knows/ he's 'fetching'." Talien shakes her head before explaining, "Googly eyed, yeah. I mean, he's okay and everything and I like him and it don't matter that his Wyaeth's the one that got me... I don't think he'd ever look at someone like me. Don't even think he'd look at you, either...though 'm not saying that 'cause I think you're ugly.. just 'cause that's how I think he is."
"No, yes, yes, and nope," Izzy snaps off answers to Talien's questions, smirking. "And no one is out of my league, I'll have you know. But googly-eyed. Hmm." She has to mull that over a moment before she smiles again, nodding decisively. "I think that's a challenge. I'll have to stop by Fort and see him--he's at Fort now, yes, or not until the eggs laid? No matter, I can go there--and see Paddy again--and come back here and you can introduce me to... all four of them. I should get back to Ista, though, before it gets much later. But Kaj and I will be in touch, Talien," she notes smugly as she finishes another swig of klah and stands.
Talien's eyes widen a little, and she attempts to clarify something - something that might just be important - though becomes tongue tied enough that all that comes out is a nod, and then, "I'll - yeah, I'll tell them you're... Izarit and, ok. Clear skies and all." A small salute follows and then Talien stares rather perplexedly at the table.
"Clear skies, and thanks for showing me around. And the klah," says Izarit, lifting the mug for one last sip before she disposes of it and heads back out into the cold to mount her dragon and /between/ home to Ista.
And hours later, while Talien is settled before her hearth with the white cane gifted to her by Shanlee in her lap:
>> Svo? <<
He's a time in responding - distracted by what Talien is only able to sense as a flash of something feminine - but Talien has the advantage of his full attention when he finally does. << What's ticklin' your mind, baby girl? >>
>> Izarit. <<
<< Lil'bit? >>
Talien hid, as best she could, any jealousy over her Svodriyth nicknaming another person, and said, >> Yeah. How'd - <<
<< What happened? >> And Svodriyth could undoubtedly sense her puzzlement, her confusion... though he didn't have any answer to suit what she asked.
>> How'd I just give her four of my best guys and only get a goofy, flower-shirt wearing brother in return? <<
After a suitably long pause, Svodriyth replied, << Dunno, babygirl but I woulda went with Big Ears. Might've scared her off the rest. >>
The What: Meet and greet, flumoxes and faux pas -- matchmaking and bronzeriders, oh my!
The When: Day 1, month 11, Turn 13, of the Interval
Cameo 'they were there in gossip but not person (and should probably start running)' credits go to: Paddy, Rook, B'yan, A'son, N'thei and the ever loveable I'daur.
Western Bowl, High Reaches Weyr(#880RIJs)
Standing on the western side of the bowl, the high crownlike spires of the Seven Spindles on the north wall tower majestically above the roughly ovoid bowl floor. Near you, a large boulder stands, placed almost exactly in the center of the bowl. This side of the bowl is busy with the constant flow of residents and visitors around the entrance to the living cavern to the southwest and the lower caverns to the west. To the north, the large opening on the upper wall leading into the hatching grounds catches your eye. Directly below it, the ground entrance to the same area seems almost tiny. Northwest, the weyrs belonging to the junior queens of High Reaches are accessible from a short set of stairs and a path of carefully laid black marble leads from them to the entrance to the living cavern. To the south, a few ground weyrs remain unoccupied, in case any visiting or injured dragons need them.
The afternoon is clear, and the sun shines with a few small clouds floating past. A light wind blows and the fall air temperature feels comfortable.
Izarit
Five-foot-eight and moderately curvy, Izarit looks like she's in her late teens. She has wavy hair a handful of shades darker than copper; it's long enough to reach her mid-back when left down. Her hair today is arranged in soft, face-framing curls, loose hairs forming a halo about her head.
Izzy's face is open and honest, round-shaped and freckled across her cheeks and the bridge of her straight nose; full lips grace her mouth. Her eyes, rimmed with smudgy kohl, are bluish, the purity of color somewhat intruded on by darker hazel. The desert sun has served to darken the natural cream of her skin another shade or two, though she's not dark by any means.
Today, Izarit has struck a balance between formal and businesslike by dressing herself in a pair of elegantly tailored charcoal grey pants that swish over her black low-heeled sandals. She also wears a thin, short-sleeved white shirt, partially covered by a low-cut and satiny vest, its royal blue making her kohly eyes look a truer color too. Over this she's thrown a lightweight jacket in a slightly darker grey than her pants.
Kajrath
Polished and lacquered to a lustrous shine, deep walnut brown has been carved to the shape of a dragon so sleek and sharp that he seems almost stylized. He is pointed in visage with a narrow snout and slim, erect headknobs that lend him an alert and mischievous air. A razor-line of serrated neckridges, age-blackened at their bases, spikes down his back and, paired with ebony claws and a long, animated tail, adds a rakish flair to his rangy form. The tight grains of dark, ruddy wood run across his chest and flanks, lines that accentuate his youthful muscle. But here, over well-formed shoulders and haunches, his polish shows careless wear and dull blotches, as if his lacquer is ready to peel away. His wings, when spread, reveal elongated tips like wicked spines and sails adorned with a hint of angular scrolling, as though decoration has been burned into their delicate membranes. He moves with unthinking ease, the grace of a creature comfortable and confident in himself.
Kajrath is 1 Turns, 7 months, and 4 days old and 33.30 meters long. He is 14.12 meters tall at the shoulder and has a wingspan of 53.28 meters.
Talien's back is to the bowl at large which, at the moment, consists mostly of Talien and the blue she stands before. He, looking far too amused, continues to shift his weight to slyly avoid the strap Talien is attempting to loop into place. Talien's stiff-backed posture evidences her annoyance, though she remains otherwise silent. At her feet are a small number of pouches, each packed and tightly shut.
Quite unfamiliar to this northern Weyr, Kajrath appears from /between/ to dive for a landing on the floor of the Reaches bowl. He lands near Svodriyth, skidding up dirt as he does so, and rumbles to the blue while Izarit shudders at the cold and unbuckles herself and the passenger they carry. With thanks offered, the man disappears quickly and the Istan rider tugs her jacket more snugly around herself. "And it's only fall here still?" she remarks aloud, with a glance to the blue and the girl with him.
Svodriyth, shuffling and chuffing with continued amusement at Talien's expense, inadvertently falls still long enough to regard the arrival of the brown and his Istan rider to allow Talien the opportunity to at last snag him with the strap. "I've half a mind to strangle you now, Svodriyth," Talien says in reprimand and, without missing a beat, greets Izarit. "Nearing on winter, soon enough. Talien... Svodriyth's, and you are?" Svodriyth extends a cautious greeting to the brown while simultaneously moving closer to his rider.
"Us?" says the girl. "We're Izzy and Kaj. From Ista." Kajrath rumbles at the blue himself, friendly, while his rider steps forward to offer a hand to Talien in greeting. "Which is why it's freezing--feels like /between/. I don't think I'll be back for a few months, until spring--forget transport duty. They can sun themselves on the beaches or find someone else to take them, I don't care," laughs the rider, shaking her head as she glances around the bowl.
Talien's quite slow in returning the handshake, and there's no outward reason to explain why - her hands are free and she's smiling slightly, apparently engaged in what Izarit is saying. But when she does make contact, it's with both sandwiching Izarit's hand between hers before releasing it. "I'm surprised you aren't frozen solid... did you want something to drink before heading back? I promise it's warmer inside." Her smile reappears even as Izarit glances around the bowl.
The oddity of that handshake earns a furrow of Izzy's brows, and she glances up at Talien again, the brownrider's eyes studying the bluerider's a long oment as she steals her hand back and gives Kajrath a confused, wary look. The brown only whuffs once, but Izzy offers a quick and bright smile in response to the offer, nodding as she recovers. "Oh, that sounds good. What do... I assume the usual things? Klah? Really hot klah sounds wonderful about now. Which way is your living cavern, anyway?" she asks, turning about once more to try to discern that opening in the rock face of the Weyr.
Svodriyth's taken to watching Talien closely, and not so much Izarit and Kajrath. So Talien's reply is as amicable as ever, if only slightly conspiratorial. "If we get in there before the Weyrlingmaster and a few of the other lushes... some of the 'Reaches finest booze. Guess that's what they give folks who need to warm up fast... or at least not care that they're colder than normal." Turning a tight circle counter-clockwise, Talien starts off toward the direction of the living cavern, "I think it's back this way some. Svodriyth-" The blue who launches into the air at Talien's request, "He'll show your Kajrath, if you'd like, and you can follow me."
The mention of booze makes Izarit's brows arch again, and she shares another look with Kajrath at that. "Ah. Well. I don't really hold my liquor very well," she remarks, with a lift of her shoulders. "Though I do like the fruity little mixed drinks they have at the Sandbar. Do you drink a lot up here or something? I think I'd drink, too, if I had to live in this." Her nose wrinkles slightly, but obediently she sets off after Talien, following her guide.
Talien's pace is slow and she partially tilts her chin over her shoulder to better listen to Izarit. Her query earns a small laugh and shake of Talien's head, "I hold my liquor about as well as a cup with a hole in it. The klah... if you're brave enough to try that, then you're more man than you sound." A compliment, really. Turning back to focus on following quite the rigid, razor-straight path she seems stuck upon, Talien adds, "It's cold, sure, but beautiful. Especially when it starts snowing."
"Is there something wrong with your klah?" Izarit is not looking reassured by Talien's words. Though, she does add, "Thank you," to that compliment, however backhanded. "I've never seen snow yet," admits the brownrider as she follows a few paces back, watching Talien's walking curiously. "So maybe I'll find some really warm clothes and come back just once to see that. I do think coats are so cute, not that I've ever really had a need of one, between Igen and now Ista."
"Thirteen.. no, wait-" Talien's light murmur turns near audible at the end, and without directly answering Izarit's questions, asks one of her own. "Is there a big - there should be a set of stairs near here, somewhere.. and the entrance to the living caverns - it's.. marble, there's a marble path." Stepping then to where she's pinpointed Izarit to be, Talien offers, "The klah's not so bad, it's just always a wager whether you'll get the strong stuff or the weak stuff. Mostly it's just cold, or is by the time I get to it, anyways." Talien's nervous tick - rushed words in one quick breath - has her drawing in a sharp breath. "If you're still cold, you're welcome to a coat. I think I have an extra one on - oh stuff it, I forgot all about those packs. Listen, the cavern is by that path - Svodriyth say's we're almost there so just keep going straight 'till you hit it and I'll be right there."
Izarit stops entirely when Talien does, glancing back at Kajrath and Svodriyth and then to Talien again. The blind leading the blind indeed. "It's--this one, I think," she says slowly, as she steps around the bluerider toward the entrance to the living cavern. "Over here--to your right, and, um." Her directions-giving falters as she watches Talien. Then: "Should I go pick that stuff up for you?" she asks.
"Yeah, I lost count. Happens, sometimes, 'cause I get to listening what people are saying and forget where I am." Talien's admission carries a little color to her cheeks, but she's already backing away, ready to turn and retrieve her packs before further embarrassing herself. "Svodriyth says you're at the right one, too, and just as soon as I get that coat for you, I'll be right back. Satiet'd have my head if I let you turn into an icecicle."
"Count," says Izarit, with a curious look, but she asks for no more clarification than that. Instead, quickly, she shakes her head and then tells Talien, holding her hands up in a stop gesture that goes unseen. "No, don't--it's not important. I'll warm up inside by the fire, really. Or at least let me get it myself; you shouldn't--" She doesn't finish that, only frowns slightly.
"You're Istan," Talien taunts, her demeanor changing slightly but enough that all pretense is abandoned, "You're liable to set yourself afire since you won't be warm enough until you're /in/ the fire." Wordy repartee delivered, she adds a less mocking, "Might not be able to see but I can mostly find my way."
"Oh, no," says Izarit quickly, nose wrinkling at the suggestion. "That'd leave awful scars, being burned like that, and one scar is enough for me, thank you very much. Besides, I'm Igenite." Pause. "Not that that's such an inspiring vote in favor of my ability to withstand the cold, either," concedes the brownrider after a moment. She concedes, though, "If you don't mind, I'd appreciate it, thanks."
"Oh." Now embarrassed and with a smile that's more of an open mouthed grimace, Talien amends, "I knew you were Is-Igenite... I just... Anyways, someone'll bring it along soon. Svodriyth said we were taking too long so he asked someone to get it for us-" At the loud chuff from the blue, who is somewhat beside Kajrath and looking humbled enough for him and Talien, Talien adds, "He says I'm to say sorry, too, since threatening to shove folks into the fire is bad politics." Striding purposefully, if somewhat just slightly off-target in her path toward the entrance to the 'caverns, Talien adds, "I /hate/ politics."
"Oh." Izarit is chastened then, hastening to explain, "I'm Istan, too--well, I impressed at Ista, and I ride there, but my family and I are all out of Igen so it's more my home still in some ways, I suppose. We're traders, so this whole being from one little Weyr is strange for me still." She shrugs, though, and nods to the explain of the coat before she realizes that won't be seen, either. "That's nice of him; tell him I say thank you," she asks of Talien, as she turns to step instead herself. And then pause, and add awkwardly, "Ah. A little... rightward--your right, I mean, and you have it."
"I remember you said Ista... and then you mentioned the Sandbar and I was supposed to go to that Sandbar place you mentioned, but the guy who was going to take me said he wanted to take someone else and then Svodriyth threatened... um, right, anyways I just figured if you were an Istan rider you were /Istan/." Talien ducks her head and corrects her path to follow Izarit's directions. "Igen's nice, though. 'least that's what I hear." Talien's hand finds the curve of the entranceway and she follows it in, her body half turned to let her hear Izarit's reply.
"You should come see it," says Izarit, and stops again. "Er. Well, you know what I mean. Can you... can you /between/? Or do you mind a random stranger asking you weird questions, or...?" She tilts her head as she trails off, the words lilting into a question as she leads the way into the hall, keeping a slow pace that Talien can keep up with.
"Sure do. You meant I should come smell it, right? 'cause everyone's always telling me my hearing is as bad as my seeing, seeing how I don't really listen all that well." Beat. "Mind? Geeze..I'll show you my scar if you show me yours. Makes for good conversation." Talien's humor is off-beat, dark and quite likely inappropriate, but it's delivered in a light-hearted manner, "I /can't/, no, though I figure Svodriyth still can. Worse that happens is we take a head dive into a sand dune, right?" A flash of a smile accompanies the barb, Talien quickly turning soon after to make her way through the cavern. She's mostly fortunate people take to getting out of her way as opposed to letting her get around them, and she's also taking for granted that Izarit will keep up.
Izarit grins all the same, however dark the humor. "Think I can see yours already, though mine's in a place I don't generally show when it's quite this cold out," she drawls in answer. "Got caught by a dragon at Kajrath's hatching--the bronze that ended up picking the guy next to me. Who promptly abandoned me, bleeding my life out onto the sands, to deal with the thing. Some friend, huh?" is the explanation she offers with a shake of her head, wry. "The sand dunes are soft, at least--what's worse is the rocky parts of the desert. It doesn't smell like much of anything there, though--but Ista does. It's too flowery, gives me a headache some days to put up with all the fruitiness."
Rather somberly, Talien touches two fingers to her heart, "I solemnly swear I will say to any lovers who come knocking and asking whether I saw this cold-fearing region you speak of... that I hadn't seen a thing. Your honor will remain intact." Upon which she ends her theatrics by executing a stiff, mocking (of the action and not the brownrider) bow. She finds the table with outstretched hands, and with only a little exploring, finds the klah and starts to pour two mugs. "Guys suck. I've begun to see that. 'cause, see, the one guy who was supposed to take me to the Sandbar is the guy I kissed and then had to punch 'cause he was saying bad things about me. Then the other guy I kinda liked... well, he's sweet on someone else. And don't even get me started on N'thei." There is a distinct clipping of her tone and an ending to her prattling as she cautions, "Might want to say when for when I get close. I'd stick my finger in yours but Svodriyth says that's bad politics, too."
"I like 'em," says Izarit, with a broad smirk. "There's good one out there. Rook--his bronze is the one that got me--and Paddy, Kajrath's sire's rider. I think his mother lives here, I don't really remember, though. A few of the others from our clutch, and of course I've half a dozen brothers that are all respectable in varying degrees," she notes as she moves on in to the klah, watching with arching brows as Talien pours. "Who's N'thei? That's enough, I think--thank you."
"Oh I like them too, it's just finding the ones that like /me/." Talien tips the pitcher back and sets it aside when 'when' is said, "I'm still learning this whole thing-" She circles her face with her hands then waggles her fingers, "So I figure that's not helping. And Svodriyth's protective and pretty much threatens the ones who try." She pauses for a breath, eventually lingering in silence as she situates the cup in her palm, keeping her thumb just inside the rim and touching the hot liquid as she had when pouring her mug. Only when she's satisfied with the arrangement does she reply, and this too is done in a slow manner. "One of the boys I Impressed with. We're kinda friends, I think, but he went off and left us, so I'm not so sure I like him anymore." Beat. "They're the worse, aren't they? Those bronzeriders? A'son's not, but pretty much the rest are."
Izarit frowns slightly at Talien, sympathy in the expression the bluerider can't see. "If you ever get down to Ista, you should meet my brother. He's a goofball, pretty fun, totally hopeless with the girls. I haven't been able to make one stick to him yet, and I just keep throwing them at him, too," she remarks with a shrug as she leans up against the table idly. "You should let me do that, still," she notes of the pouring, though she doesn't move to usurp the activity from Talien. "I like them, too. R'klen's fun--he blushes a lot. Tries to act tough but he's so not. I should meet A'son. And N'thei. You'll have to introduce me some time."
Considerately, Talien suggests, "They've got this recipe in the kitchens here... sticky buns, I think, and the stuff they put on it... it's really sweet and sticky as all get out. 'course it's not permanent but-" Talien smiles at her own joke, half-pursing her lips with the effort. At Izarit's request, Talien hesitates before conceding with a stiff nod. A little less jittery, she replies, "He's kinda like B'yan. That's another bronzerider and I like him. He's my kindabrother." Bitting down on her knuckle to force a small pause, Talien then adds, "N'thei's gone to Fort... guess his Wyaeth caught some queen there--" A mutter best not repeated falls into garbled noises with only it's ending half intelligible. "A'son's... me and A'son are friends, even if he's kinda old. Not like you and me - 'least I think you're young like me 'cause you sound it... but he's old..er. And nice. He got burned when I did."
"You make dumb jokes like Caz," Izarit decides, sounding pleased by that. "He'd think that was hilarious, I'm sure. And you'd like him better because you can't see those ugly Istan-style shirts he wears, with the big gaudy flowers everywhere." She shudders delicately at that, as she finishes pouring the drink and slides it over to Talien, making sure the bluerider can feel where it is, before she picks up her own mug for a sip. "Ciath?" she supplies quickly. "He was the one that caught Ciath, at Fort? Paddy got caught up in that--I, er, talked to him afterward." She takes a great deal of interest in her drink then, sipping it slowly before noting, "Nothing wrong with this klah, at least, that a lot of sweetener and milk won't fix. I just turned twenty-one, incidentally, but I suppose I'm young at heart," she laughed. "Burned, like you? He's... Oh. I see." Pause. "Sorry."
Svodriyth> Kajrath senses that Svodriyth's touch is unfamiliar, and he makes that much obvious before even venturing a word or twelve. << Baby girl, >> Talien's image is drawn into focus, and then faded away, << She's got a runaway mouth when she's nervous 'bout stuff. >> There's a roll and go flow to his pause and how his words pick up, a charming bit of airy casualness he carries so well. << Told her to stop, but she don' listen. Hope your lil'bit don' mind. >>
Dragon> Svodriyth senses that Kajrath's mind is a rush of grey-green colors and the sense of night and running, undaunted. << What's yours nervous about? Mine doesn't get nervous, >> he boasts proudly. << Izzy talks a lot, too--she doesn't mind. She just keeps thinking she's going to say something about how yours is all messed up and make her mad or something. >> Nevermind Kajrath is a lot less polite about it than Izarit.
"Ah, but if I could see and I did see them? I'd probably go blind." Talien returns with an effortless smile - she's apparently well aware that her jokes are quite dumb, and takes no insult from the assessment. At Izarit's sudden interest in her drink, resultant of the topic leading to it, Talien says, "Yeah, I think so. I kinda got mad when I heard and didn't listen to the rest." It's an awkwardly cautious sidestepping of the topic as a whole, now, with Talien's brow furrowed and her head canted as though if she listened hard enough she might just 'see' what it is she's missing. Her incentive fades with Izarit's later words, "You're older like A'son. Maybe I oughta introduce the two of you - he's all kinds of good." Quickly, she adds, "He's got scars, probably, but nothin' like me. He lost most of his hair and got burned on his chest." Talien's mouth closes abruptly, as she abandons what might've followed. Whatever that was surely has something to do with the pinking of her cheeks.
"Ah, but you beat him to the draw," laughs Izarit, as Talien's good humor regarding her infirmity rubs off and relaxes the Istan brownrider. "Let's go sit," she suggests, straightening and taking a couple of steps backward from the drink table. "Apparently I'm ancient now. But there's something to be said for experienced men, I suppose--not that /I'd/ know what it is, of course. He's not, er, bald now, is he? Because that's... not exactly attractive, no offense. He sounds nice, anyway, right? I'd still love to meet him."
Svodriyth> Kajrath senses that Svodriyth's quick to reply, all good nature and sunny smiles. << Just how my girl is. Ain't nothin' bad and she learns better when she's the one stickin' her foot in her mouth. >> An electric pause hangs between those words and his next, << She don' gotta worry none. Even if she made my baby girl mad, ain't no way my girl'll hit yours. >>
Dragon> Svodriyth senses that Kajrath's curiousity sheds moonlight on his forest-dark thoughts. << Does she hit lots of other people? >> he wonders, words rustling through his mind. << Mine hasn't ever hit anything. Or gotten it--she's not a fighter. >>
Talien moves just seconds after Izarit does, still following the brownrider by keeping her engaged in conversation. "He's got hair now, sure.. and I figure he's the type who's.. you know, experienced and stuff." Another full fledged flush hits Talien square in the cheeks and by the way she keeps clearing her throat, she knows she's blushing. "He's nice looking, yeah. I mean, even with those scars I bet he's still just as...I mean I know he is because I sort of saw...he's good lookin' trust me," Talien finally forces out.
Svodriyth> Kajrath senses that Svodriyth's reply carries the weight of a 'no', though isn't quite said so concretely. << Baby girl took a few swings but she ain't all that good at hittin' what she can't see. >> He does seize a boasting opportunity when it's at hand and quite proudly so, << My girl's a fighter... all's I gotta do is get her t'be smart about it. >>
Talien's blush inspires a broadening smile in Izarit, the brownrider raising a brow slowly the more the bluerider rambles on regarding A'son. "Scars can be rakish and manly," she remarks offhand. "They sound very dashing. It's not like I've escaped without one myself, after all, though not very noble, I suppose. It's not a very inspiring story telling how you were too busy talking to notice the bronze dragon rushing at you." She shrugs, though, cheerful still, as she moves to sit down. "He's not... taken, is he? This A'son of yours?" She tilts her head curiously, studying Talien's expression expectantly.
"That's what I told him. But... see, he's old like you, so it's kinda like me saying I think all of I'daur's scars are--are..." Talien makes a grand show of any number of small, nauseous faces, "I can't even say it, see?" Rounding her thumb against the rim of her mug, Talien listens to Izarit's retelling of her scar story. It lingers in her expression as she distractedly answers Izarit, "Hm? No.. I don't think so. I bet I can set you up, though. He's all kinds of smart and sometimes listens to me-" Contradiction aside, "You ever feel funny knowin' that you're...y'know, you got something like that that the other folks don't got?" As for her expression... it's as wide open as a book; earnest and endeared when talking of A'son, guarded and worried come talk of scars.
"I don't know I'daur, either," says Izarit, sounding very mystified. "Does he have sexy scars, too?" Her head cants again, but she pulls up short at the latter question, not even completing the nod she begins as Talien tells her more about A'son. "Ah," she begins, and halts again. "I don't... They always say Istan dragons are very violent--there were a couple of other people hurt at my hatching, and I've met others with scars like mine, too. But it's still... weird. I don't like them looking at it, but at the same time, I don't really make any effort to hide it because... I don't know," she admits, unusually serious herself.
There's no play about Talien's fumbling and eventually dropping of her mug, and the hastened curse as she realizes what she's done. "Geeze, don't /say/ that! He's... he's I'daur," Talien's face clearly convey's what is common knowledge and she stresses the Weyrlingmaster's name, "He's /way/ old and really grumpy and drinks enough to make a fish look dry. Plus he's all...I'daur." Pity the somewhat fond half-smile ruins the otherwise volatile bedamnings of said bronzerider. "--yeah, though, I get what you're saying. Kinda like you failed right off the bat, right?" Asked in an undertone and while perhaps meant to be a real question, is none the less turned rhetorical for all that Talien adds, "Suppose I can introduce you to him, too, if you want. Me'n him head the Weyrlings 'cause we're both too lame to do real work."
Izarit just raises a brow at Talien's smile and the vehemency of her renouncements of I'daur. "I should meet him, too," she notes, as she reaches quickly for a napkin to clean up whatever the dropping of the mug has spilled. A sip of her own heavily milk-and-sugared klah ensues. "You'll have to introduce me, to both of them. But, er." The serious question again makes her pause, hesitating a moment before nodding. "Something like that," she agrees. "It's all... I don't know. It's not really that bad, though. I mean, I made lots of jokes about being paralyzed, but it was never..." She shrugs.
"I'm just warnin' you... I'daur's... y'know - well you don't, but once you meet him you will." Talien's not to be convinced otherwise, and nods firmly to cement that fact. She tries to keep that same airy manner about the serious topic and can even manage a smile when Izarit mentions joking. "Svodriyth says some of us get hurt 'cause we're just that good... we need a bit of a challenge," Light dawns and a comment slips past without Talien thinking twice: "Y'know, if that's true? I'daur's gotta be one helluva strong guy. You'll see that too.. I mean he's /covered/." Then, "But, y'know, if scars aren't your thing? My kindabrother... he's, well... his name's B'yan. He's kinda the friendly type."
"Covered? Seen this for yourself, have you?" asks Izarit, raising a brow and smirking as Talien describes I'daur to her. "Might have to see just how right you are. Not that I'm /that/ kind of girl, mind you, but. You're just determined to throw every man you know at me now, aren't you? B'yan, A'son, I'daur, N'thei... I'll have a boy in every Weyr before long. Not that I'm complaining one bit, mind you. And--I like that. We're so good we need a challenge. I think I'll use that one myself now, if you and Svodriyth don't mind."
"Sure you can. Go ahead and tell all the others they can too, 'cause it's true and the truth never hurts." Talien agrees willingly and quickly to Izarit asking permission; she's less agreeable to the I'daur remark. "Oh geeze, no. I'd happily run through fire to avoid having to see /that/. He's-" Talien, lip curling and all, just dismisses the nightmarish idea all together. "And sure, why not? They're my friends and I figure if they can't help themselves, I'll help them. 'cause, see, B'yan's all friendly and stuff but he's sometimes a little full of himself. And N'thei's - he's a good guy 'cept for when he's all googly eyed 'cause he can't see anything else then. And then I kinda worry 'bout A'son... wait. You're not ugly, are you? They'd hate me for sure if you were and I sent them your way." Blunt and bland, it's hard to say whether Talien's serious or joshing.
"I'll have Kajrath send you a picture," Izarit says, laughing at Talien's question, and the brown quickly obliges. "Not doctored or anything. I think I'm rather fetching myself, you know, but I suppose everyone thinks that about themselves. Googly-eyed?" she questions that unfamiliar word.
"Stop me if I hit one... snaggle tooth? Got all your hair? Two 'brows and no hair growin' outta places that aren't supposed to have hair?" Talien can't quite keep a smile hidden, adding, "See, now, B'yan's totally out of your league 'cause he /knows/ he's 'fetching'." Talien shakes her head before explaining, "Googly eyed, yeah. I mean, he's okay and everything and I like him and it don't matter that his Wyaeth's the one that got me... I don't think he'd ever look at someone like me. Don't even think he'd look at you, either...though 'm not saying that 'cause I think you're ugly.. just 'cause that's how I think he is."
"No, yes, yes, and nope," Izzy snaps off answers to Talien's questions, smirking. "And no one is out of my league, I'll have you know. But googly-eyed. Hmm." She has to mull that over a moment before she smiles again, nodding decisively. "I think that's a challenge. I'll have to stop by Fort and see him--he's at Fort now, yes, or not until the eggs laid? No matter, I can go there--and see Paddy again--and come back here and you can introduce me to... all four of them. I should get back to Ista, though, before it gets much later. But Kaj and I will be in touch, Talien," she notes smugly as she finishes another swig of klah and stands.
Talien's eyes widen a little, and she attempts to clarify something - something that might just be important - though becomes tongue tied enough that all that comes out is a nod, and then, "I'll - yeah, I'll tell them you're... Izarit and, ok. Clear skies and all." A small salute follows and then Talien stares rather perplexedly at the table.
"Clear skies, and thanks for showing me around. And the klah," says Izarit, lifting the mug for one last sip before she disposes of it and heads back out into the cold to mount her dragon and /between/ home to Ista.
And hours later, while Talien is settled before her hearth with the white cane gifted to her by Shanlee in her lap:
>> Svo? <<
He's a time in responding - distracted by what Talien is only able to sense as a flash of something feminine - but Talien has the advantage of his full attention when he finally does. << What's ticklin' your mind, baby girl? >>
>> Izarit. <<
<< Lil'bit? >>
Talien hid, as best she could, any jealousy over her Svodriyth nicknaming another person, and said, >> Yeah. How'd - <<
<< What happened? >> And Svodriyth could undoubtedly sense her puzzlement, her confusion... though he didn't have any answer to suit what she asked.
>> How'd I just give her four of my best guys and only get a goofy, flower-shirt wearing brother in return? <<
After a suitably long pause, Svodriyth replied, << Dunno, babygirl but I woulda went with Big Ears. Might've scared her off the rest. >>