More Threadfall Aftermath
Fayre is still depressed over various injures sustained in 'Fall, particularly that of Lieryth's and her cousin R'gan. Noemie harbors similar feelings and the two talk it out in the Sandbar with the help of a few proddy greenriders.
The Sandbar -- Ista Weyr(#4182RJMs)
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 tinged a ruddy red with the blazing light of a fading sunset. 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 fall season oppresses the island with high humidity and sweltering temperatures. Today, a gray blanket of clouds dominates the sky and a nice, light breeze carries the scent of sea air.
Contents:
Noemie
It's one of those evenings, by the look of Noemie seated at the bar: bright green drink nursed between knitted-together hands. She stares off idly towards the ocean, glances now and then around at the other Istans come for a drink or two; the Sandbar is populated by a handful of other people, chatting in small groups at tables and around the bar. It is a peaceful night, and fairly clear, for autumn being Ista's rainy season.
Fayre half-stumbles, half-shuffles in from the beach, her light brown eyes more focused on the floor instead of those around her. Luckily, she's been here enough times to weave through the tables, chairs, and small number of people without any bumps. There are dark circles under her eyes, the likes of which haven't been seen since the tiring time of weyrlinghood. Eventually, Fayre becomes alert enough to realize there's someone she knows quite well at the bar and the young woman moves to slide into the bar stool next to Noemie without so much as a hello.
Noemie is surprised, not so much by Fayre's approach but by the current state of her former mentee. Reverie broken, she pushes her drink slightly to the side as she turns to give the other rider her undivided attention. "Fayre! Is... is everything okay?" Worry laced through her voice, mothering instinct kicking in instantly, her brows knit as she waits for some sort of explanation to come from Fayre's mouth.
Fayre blinks a few times, Noemie's words bringing out of her deep, thoughtful, semitrance-like state. "Hmm? Yeah, I s'pose. As things go, they're okay. Just worried about my cousin. He got hit pretty bad in the 'fall over Sudee, so I've been runnin' myself ragged between my regular duties and hangin' around in the infirmary waitin' for news." She attempts to smile encouragingly, but it comes out thin and forced. The weak attempt disappears after a second anyway as she goes on to explain, "Plus, I feel like a shardin' idiot for lettin' Lieryth get hit in the shoulder by a strand." She averts her eyes once again, this time towards the bar. The young rider distracts herself by tracing a circle in the condensation that's collected from various drinks and Ista's traditional wet weather on the wooden surface. Meekly, she continues, "I hope I didn't let you down, with my poor flyin' and all."
"How is Lieryth faring now? Healing well?" Noemie asks, inquiring about dragon first, riders second: "And your cousin? Doing better? Of course you didn't let me down, Fayre. You both flew well and bravely. Many riders and beasts alike were scored, or worse. The whole weyr is recuperating now, whether each of us was injured or not." She extends her arms, score-free, indicating that she was one of the lucky ones. "It's a heavy burden for all of us to bear. Hence--" She picks up her drink once more, takes a long swig, and offers the glass to Fayre, in case she needs the same sustenance the green liquid provides.
Fayre gratefully takes a sip, doing her best to not be greedy and gulp down the colourful drink. "Thanks, Noe. A bit of alcohol helps to dull the worries. I try not to drown myself in it, though, when real depressed. Ain't good to totally get lost in it, when you're in that state." To demonstrate her lack of overindulgence, the goldrider hands the drink back after that one sip. "Lieryth is doin' fine. We were mostly just shocked. Y'think 'cause you're in the queens wing, there's no way you'll get hit. But we were wrong, and she'll have a scar to show for it." She smiles at the sight of uninjured arms and responds, "Well, I'm glad I didn't get hit. Woulda been harder to console Lie' if we were both in pain." As for the topic of her cousin, Fayre merely shakes her head at first, her mouth pulled into a grimace. "It doesn't look like he's gettin' any better. A strand went into a chest. I think it mighta damaged his heart. And a heart is a bit important, so." She shrugs loosely, leaving the obvious unspoken.
"R'gan?" Noemie asks a bit quietly, recognition registering on her face at the description of that wound. "I've been down to visit him a couple of times. I'm surprised we haven't caught each other coming and going." She takes the drink back from the goldrider, downing another long gulp. Regarding her drinking: "Moderation's important. But there are those occasions, now and then, when moderation isn't enough." A beat, and then a slow, solemn apology. "I'm sorry, Fayre, to have led your cousin into such fatal danger."
Fayre nods stoically, acknowledging the name of her cousin. She raps her knuckles on the bar quietly, flicking her gaze towards Noemie's drink for just a moment before she distracts herself by speaking once again. "Yeah, R'gan. He worked in the kitchens with me before we both got Searched." Her eyes widen in shock at that apology and the goldrider begins to shake her head before Noemie's even finished her sentence. She reaches out to grasp a free hand of the greenrider, raising her eyes to hopefully meet her gaze. "You said it yourself. Everyone came away with scars, whether they showed on their skin or not. Don't make it harder by personally blamin' yourself. R'gan, you, me--we all knew we could end up dead for taking a candidate's knot, from gettin' mauled at the hatchin' to gettin' hit bad by Thread."
Noemie squeezes Fayre's hand gently, letting out a deep sigh and smiling weakly. "It's true, none of us went into this thinking it'd all be fun and games. And a long time ago, I learned not to let accidents and threadscores in my wing get to me too much, because doubting my own leadership can only hinder how I lead the wing, not help me to improve or mend my mistakes. But--" emotion chokes her for a minute, and then she's able to say what's really on her mind: "So /many/ were injured! How can I not blame myself, a little bit?" Another, softer echo of the earlier sigh. "I'm sorry, Fayre. I know you've got enough on your mind right now. You don't need what's on mine, too!"
Fayre squeezes encouragingly back before pulling her hand back to drape at her side. Again, she firmly shakes her head--this time, she crosses her arms to amplify just how certain and determined she is. "Don't apologize, Noe. You wouldn't have that knot on your shoulder if you didn't deserve it." In a softer voice, she quietly adds, "'cause you don't just get it automatically, like mine." She uncrosses her arms to wave her hands a bit, dismissing that unhappy thought. "Anyway, I'm always happy to hear about a friend's troubles. What kind of person would I be if I wasn't, eh? Helps to talk about stuff, I find. I think it's a girl thing, mostly."
Noemie makes a little 'psh' noise. "Lieryth saw something in you, same as Naijath saw something in me." She smiles, though, a bit more genuinely. "I appreciate it, Fayre. And you know you can always talk about that stuff with me, too. Maybe it's a girl thing, but I don't know how to get by, keeping everything bottled in." She finishes her first drink, downing the rest neatly, and signals for another. "Would you like something? That reminds me, we still have all of those unspent marks from your hatching. I think it's high time we do something with them."
"/I/ don't see why it's a girly thing. But when B'rin and I tried to get Xie to open up, he was all, growl, no!" Fayre says with a defiant huff. She points down towards the end of the bar, explaining, "We were right over there. You'd think he'd talk to his friends, but nope. Then again, maybe it was just too soon after that greenrider broke his heart, y'know?" She shrugs, as if to say 'men, who knows?'. The mention of marks and drinks gets her to cheer up just fine, though, and there's a glimmer of anticipation in her eyes. "Noemie! That's /so/ true. Sorry it slipped my mind for so long. They, er, keep ya busy durin' weyrlinghood, as I'm sure you know." She suddenly jerks up in her seat, back straightening and elbows shooting back in excitement. "We could go shoppin'! Deck out our weyrs a bit, y'know? Mine's all barren and bleh right now. We could get some real nice crafted stuff. Maybe new dresses to make a spiffy appearance at the next Gather!"
"/Broke his heart/?" Noemie asks, raising a brow. "I'd heard that--" Oh, but no, it's rude to gossip, and so she catches herself, shutting her mouth again sharply. "Anyway, I think it's just that men are raised to be all strong and... manly. While women are raised to share their thoughts." Her smile breaks into a grin at the thought of shopping. "That's a wonderful idea! Maybe a trip to the weavers? I'd like something new for my wall, and Noelyn is outgrowing his last set of clothes. And a new gather dress would be just lovely." Completely brightened by the thought, Noemie asks, "How have you decorated your weyr so far? I know when I first got mine, it was all second-hand. So uninspiring!"
"Yeah! Haven't noticed 'im mopin' around? I forget her name, but she was from 'Reaches. He's more over it now, though. Maybe Thread scared it out of him." Fayre eagerly explains, proving that gossip isn't rude to /her/, at least. She frowns at herself when she mentions Thread once again, and hastily latches onto their second topic of conversation to make up for it. "Ooh, yes! The weavers are bound to have some beautiful things. Maybe we could even spring for customized ones, eh? They have such nice dyes there." Ah, longing sigh. Then, another frown and shake of the head. "Nope, haven't gotten 'round to decoratin' it yet with all the recent...activity. It's so big, though! It's almost shockin'. I'm used to dorms and barracks, not a giant space of my own. It's a bit lonely, truth be told." She outright giggles and continues, "Maybe you could come sleep over or somethin', if R'layn and your kiddies wouldn't mind. Speakin' of decoratin', though, I don't suppose you have any things you don't want anymore? I don't mind second hand, really, I just mind...stuff that means nothin' to me, if that makes sense."
"Oooh. Her!" A concession to gossip, if just for the moment, to quell Noemie's curiosity. "I bet we have enough for a few commissioned items. Maybe not Master-made, but nice enough, I'm sure." She nods, understanding, at the description of all that space. "My first weyr-- before I moved in with Ril-- was a nice size, not /too/ big, but it was still overwhelming, being there all alone. I bet Ril wouldn't mind. Maybe I could even bring Noelyn, give him the night off from fatherhood. He'd appreciate it, even!" Noemie's drink is brought over, and she takes a thirsty sip, still welcome despite her lifted mood. "I'm sure I have some things lying around-- at least blankets and pillows and linens and things that are extra. You'd be welcome to them, if you like them."
"Aww, I'd love to have you and little Noelyn over. I've never really met the little fella, did ya know that?" Fayre babbles on happily, even going as far as spinning in her bar stool. Whee! Spinny seats! As she comes to a halt, the goldrider comments, "I guess my weyr's bigger than most, thanks to Lie' and whatnot. I really gotta start fillin' it up. Maybe I should have a kid of my own when Thread stops fallin', 'cause that'd really make it feel more cozy, eh?" She pats her thighs with a proud grin. "I certainly have the build to pop one out, anyway." But speaking of children, Fayre acts a bit like one herself and clumsily claps her hands together. "Ah! Linens would be wonderful. I have sheets, and they work just fine, but they're not really...comfy. Fluffy. Somethin' like that."
Noemie laughs merrily at the sight of Fayre spinning in her stool. "Then we would love to come over! You /do/ need to meet him. I have the feeling that you and he will get on just wonderfully." She makes short work of her second Proddy Greenrider, setting the empty glass down on the bar with a 'clink'. "And perhaps tomorrow, you can drop by and see what I have that's extra to pass along to you. And--" the cheerfulness dropped from her tone, she finishes, "If you hear anything further about R'gan, please let me know?" She rises from her seat. "I'm afraid it's about time I be back to my weyr. Thanks again for listening, Fayre."
Fayre giggles at her own silliness, admitting, "We /should/ get along, considering how much I act like a little one." On the more serious note of R'gan, she switches to formalities: "I will, Wingleader. I know the Healers are doing what they can." The goldrider nods and gets to her feet as well. "And I think I'm going to have a quick nap before heading back to the Infirmary. Later, Noe." Then off she goes towards the beach and unhappier things than chatting and gossip.
The Sandbar -- Ista Weyr(#4182RJMs)
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 tinged a ruddy red with the blazing light of a fading sunset. 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 fall season oppresses the island with high humidity and sweltering temperatures. Today, a gray blanket of clouds dominates the sky and a nice, light breeze carries the scent of sea air.
Contents:
Noemie
It's one of those evenings, by the look of Noemie seated at the bar: bright green drink nursed between knitted-together hands. She stares off idly towards the ocean, glances now and then around at the other Istans come for a drink or two; the Sandbar is populated by a handful of other people, chatting in small groups at tables and around the bar. It is a peaceful night, and fairly clear, for autumn being Ista's rainy season.
Fayre half-stumbles, half-shuffles in from the beach, her light brown eyes more focused on the floor instead of those around her. Luckily, she's been here enough times to weave through the tables, chairs, and small number of people without any bumps. There are dark circles under her eyes, the likes of which haven't been seen since the tiring time of weyrlinghood. Eventually, Fayre becomes alert enough to realize there's someone she knows quite well at the bar and the young woman moves to slide into the bar stool next to Noemie without so much as a hello.
Noemie is surprised, not so much by Fayre's approach but by the current state of her former mentee. Reverie broken, she pushes her drink slightly to the side as she turns to give the other rider her undivided attention. "Fayre! Is... is everything okay?" Worry laced through her voice, mothering instinct kicking in instantly, her brows knit as she waits for some sort of explanation to come from Fayre's mouth.
Fayre blinks a few times, Noemie's words bringing out of her deep, thoughtful, semitrance-like state. "Hmm? Yeah, I s'pose. As things go, they're okay. Just worried about my cousin. He got hit pretty bad in the 'fall over Sudee, so I've been runnin' myself ragged between my regular duties and hangin' around in the infirmary waitin' for news." She attempts to smile encouragingly, but it comes out thin and forced. The weak attempt disappears after a second anyway as she goes on to explain, "Plus, I feel like a shardin' idiot for lettin' Lieryth get hit in the shoulder by a strand." She averts her eyes once again, this time towards the bar. The young rider distracts herself by tracing a circle in the condensation that's collected from various drinks and Ista's traditional wet weather on the wooden surface. Meekly, she continues, "I hope I didn't let you down, with my poor flyin' and all."
"How is Lieryth faring now? Healing well?" Noemie asks, inquiring about dragon first, riders second: "And your cousin? Doing better? Of course you didn't let me down, Fayre. You both flew well and bravely. Many riders and beasts alike were scored, or worse. The whole weyr is recuperating now, whether each of us was injured or not." She extends her arms, score-free, indicating that she was one of the lucky ones. "It's a heavy burden for all of us to bear. Hence--" She picks up her drink once more, takes a long swig, and offers the glass to Fayre, in case she needs the same sustenance the green liquid provides.
Fayre gratefully takes a sip, doing her best to not be greedy and gulp down the colourful drink. "Thanks, Noe. A bit of alcohol helps to dull the worries. I try not to drown myself in it, though, when real depressed. Ain't good to totally get lost in it, when you're in that state." To demonstrate her lack of overindulgence, the goldrider hands the drink back after that one sip. "Lieryth is doin' fine. We were mostly just shocked. Y'think 'cause you're in the queens wing, there's no way you'll get hit. But we were wrong, and she'll have a scar to show for it." She smiles at the sight of uninjured arms and responds, "Well, I'm glad I didn't get hit. Woulda been harder to console Lie' if we were both in pain." As for the topic of her cousin, Fayre merely shakes her head at first, her mouth pulled into a grimace. "It doesn't look like he's gettin' any better. A strand went into a chest. I think it mighta damaged his heart. And a heart is a bit important, so." She shrugs loosely, leaving the obvious unspoken.
"R'gan?" Noemie asks a bit quietly, recognition registering on her face at the description of that wound. "I've been down to visit him a couple of times. I'm surprised we haven't caught each other coming and going." She takes the drink back from the goldrider, downing another long gulp. Regarding her drinking: "Moderation's important. But there are those occasions, now and then, when moderation isn't enough." A beat, and then a slow, solemn apology. "I'm sorry, Fayre, to have led your cousin into such fatal danger."
Fayre nods stoically, acknowledging the name of her cousin. She raps her knuckles on the bar quietly, flicking her gaze towards Noemie's drink for just a moment before she distracts herself by speaking once again. "Yeah, R'gan. He worked in the kitchens with me before we both got Searched." Her eyes widen in shock at that apology and the goldrider begins to shake her head before Noemie's even finished her sentence. She reaches out to grasp a free hand of the greenrider, raising her eyes to hopefully meet her gaze. "You said it yourself. Everyone came away with scars, whether they showed on their skin or not. Don't make it harder by personally blamin' yourself. R'gan, you, me--we all knew we could end up dead for taking a candidate's knot, from gettin' mauled at the hatchin' to gettin' hit bad by Thread."
Noemie squeezes Fayre's hand gently, letting out a deep sigh and smiling weakly. "It's true, none of us went into this thinking it'd all be fun and games. And a long time ago, I learned not to let accidents and threadscores in my wing get to me too much, because doubting my own leadership can only hinder how I lead the wing, not help me to improve or mend my mistakes. But--" emotion chokes her for a minute, and then she's able to say what's really on her mind: "So /many/ were injured! How can I not blame myself, a little bit?" Another, softer echo of the earlier sigh. "I'm sorry, Fayre. I know you've got enough on your mind right now. You don't need what's on mine, too!"
Fayre squeezes encouragingly back before pulling her hand back to drape at her side. Again, she firmly shakes her head--this time, she crosses her arms to amplify just how certain and determined she is. "Don't apologize, Noe. You wouldn't have that knot on your shoulder if you didn't deserve it." In a softer voice, she quietly adds, "'cause you don't just get it automatically, like mine." She uncrosses her arms to wave her hands a bit, dismissing that unhappy thought. "Anyway, I'm always happy to hear about a friend's troubles. What kind of person would I be if I wasn't, eh? Helps to talk about stuff, I find. I think it's a girl thing, mostly."
Noemie makes a little 'psh' noise. "Lieryth saw something in you, same as Naijath saw something in me." She smiles, though, a bit more genuinely. "I appreciate it, Fayre. And you know you can always talk about that stuff with me, too. Maybe it's a girl thing, but I don't know how to get by, keeping everything bottled in." She finishes her first drink, downing the rest neatly, and signals for another. "Would you like something? That reminds me, we still have all of those unspent marks from your hatching. I think it's high time we do something with them."
"/I/ don't see why it's a girly thing. But when B'rin and I tried to get Xie to open up, he was all, growl, no!" Fayre says with a defiant huff. She points down towards the end of the bar, explaining, "We were right over there. You'd think he'd talk to his friends, but nope. Then again, maybe it was just too soon after that greenrider broke his heart, y'know?" She shrugs, as if to say 'men, who knows?'. The mention of marks and drinks gets her to cheer up just fine, though, and there's a glimmer of anticipation in her eyes. "Noemie! That's /so/ true. Sorry it slipped my mind for so long. They, er, keep ya busy durin' weyrlinghood, as I'm sure you know." She suddenly jerks up in her seat, back straightening and elbows shooting back in excitement. "We could go shoppin'! Deck out our weyrs a bit, y'know? Mine's all barren and bleh right now. We could get some real nice crafted stuff. Maybe new dresses to make a spiffy appearance at the next Gather!"
"/Broke his heart/?" Noemie asks, raising a brow. "I'd heard that--" Oh, but no, it's rude to gossip, and so she catches herself, shutting her mouth again sharply. "Anyway, I think it's just that men are raised to be all strong and... manly. While women are raised to share their thoughts." Her smile breaks into a grin at the thought of shopping. "That's a wonderful idea! Maybe a trip to the weavers? I'd like something new for my wall, and Noelyn is outgrowing his last set of clothes. And a new gather dress would be just lovely." Completely brightened by the thought, Noemie asks, "How have you decorated your weyr so far? I know when I first got mine, it was all second-hand. So uninspiring!"
"Yeah! Haven't noticed 'im mopin' around? I forget her name, but she was from 'Reaches. He's more over it now, though. Maybe Thread scared it out of him." Fayre eagerly explains, proving that gossip isn't rude to /her/, at least. She frowns at herself when she mentions Thread once again, and hastily latches onto their second topic of conversation to make up for it. "Ooh, yes! The weavers are bound to have some beautiful things. Maybe we could even spring for customized ones, eh? They have such nice dyes there." Ah, longing sigh. Then, another frown and shake of the head. "Nope, haven't gotten 'round to decoratin' it yet with all the recent...activity. It's so big, though! It's almost shockin'. I'm used to dorms and barracks, not a giant space of my own. It's a bit lonely, truth be told." She outright giggles and continues, "Maybe you could come sleep over or somethin', if R'layn and your kiddies wouldn't mind. Speakin' of decoratin', though, I don't suppose you have any things you don't want anymore? I don't mind second hand, really, I just mind...stuff that means nothin' to me, if that makes sense."
"Oooh. Her!" A concession to gossip, if just for the moment, to quell Noemie's curiosity. "I bet we have enough for a few commissioned items. Maybe not Master-made, but nice enough, I'm sure." She nods, understanding, at the description of all that space. "My first weyr-- before I moved in with Ril-- was a nice size, not /too/ big, but it was still overwhelming, being there all alone. I bet Ril wouldn't mind. Maybe I could even bring Noelyn, give him the night off from fatherhood. He'd appreciate it, even!" Noemie's drink is brought over, and she takes a thirsty sip, still welcome despite her lifted mood. "I'm sure I have some things lying around-- at least blankets and pillows and linens and things that are extra. You'd be welcome to them, if you like them."
"Aww, I'd love to have you and little Noelyn over. I've never really met the little fella, did ya know that?" Fayre babbles on happily, even going as far as spinning in her bar stool. Whee! Spinny seats! As she comes to a halt, the goldrider comments, "I guess my weyr's bigger than most, thanks to Lie' and whatnot. I really gotta start fillin' it up. Maybe I should have a kid of my own when Thread stops fallin', 'cause that'd really make it feel more cozy, eh?" She pats her thighs with a proud grin. "I certainly have the build to pop one out, anyway." But speaking of children, Fayre acts a bit like one herself and clumsily claps her hands together. "Ah! Linens would be wonderful. I have sheets, and they work just fine, but they're not really...comfy. Fluffy. Somethin' like that."
Noemie laughs merrily at the sight of Fayre spinning in her stool. "Then we would love to come over! You /do/ need to meet him. I have the feeling that you and he will get on just wonderfully." She makes short work of her second Proddy Greenrider, setting the empty glass down on the bar with a 'clink'. "And perhaps tomorrow, you can drop by and see what I have that's extra to pass along to you. And--" the cheerfulness dropped from her tone, she finishes, "If you hear anything further about R'gan, please let me know?" She rises from her seat. "I'm afraid it's about time I be back to my weyr. Thanks again for listening, Fayre."
Fayre giggles at her own silliness, admitting, "We /should/ get along, considering how much I act like a little one." On the more serious note of R'gan, she switches to formalities: "I will, Wingleader. I know the Healers are doing what they can." The goldrider nods and gets to her feet as well. "And I think I'm going to have a quick nap before heading back to the Infirmary. Later, Noe." Then off she goes towards the beach and unhappier things than chatting and gossip.