Post-Clutching Celebrations
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. As the sun sets, a gray blanket of clouds dominates the sky and the air is still, offering no relief from Ista's heat.
Contents:
Xielar
Noemie
Caitlyn
Noemie, Caitlyn, and Xielar are seated at a table near the middle of the Sandbar, in the middle of toasting to the eggs newly on the sand. Noe laughs at Caitlyn's eager call to the barmaid, adding in, "You know, they can make nearly anything her without the alcohol in it. Some of the blends of juices and things are good on their own." At the clink of glasses, the greenrider grins, then downs quite a bit more of her drink. It's a celebration, it's the only right thing to do!
A toast to the new clutch? In the Sandbar? Fayre's bound to be there soon, and indeed, she comes marching into the pretty open-air bar with an accomplished smile on her face. Familiar voices and faces soon tug the assistant headwoman over to Noemie, Caitlyn, and Xielar, her smile widening into a grin when she arrives. "Geez, Xielar. First gambling, now drinking? There's nothin' wrong with bein' young, y'know. Anyone mind if I join in the fun?"
"Any kind of juice will do then," he tells Caitlyn, then glances to Noemie and nods again. "I suppose so. I think my mother only wanted me to stay away from this place because my father might frequent here and she doesn't want me getting involved with him." He frowns briefly and goes on to admit quietly: "That's my theory anyways." He spots Fayre's arrival and smirks back at the older woman, "I'm not doing any such thing." He snorts and concludes: I'll be drinking -juice- thank you very much." (pose by Xielar)
Caitlyn is back in better spirits now that the fun has resumed for them, ordering a three juice mix for Xielar - which sends the barmaid scurrying to fix it - while Cait then looks up and out to see... "Fayre! Yeah, we have one more spot, c'mon over!" The bluerider proceeds to pull out the seat beside her in preparation for Fayre's rump to be settled onto it. The crowd is thick in The Sandbar tonight, likely due to the eager expectancy over the newly-laid clutch.
"Fayre! Yes, join us," calls Noemie. "The more the merrier. How did the bets go, once all the eggs were laid? I have a few ideas, but we'll have to put our heads together before making any picks." She grins, tipping her glass once again in greeting, and an added, silent second toast. "You'll like the juice, Xielar. It's what I drank for a long time before I got the guts up to actually try something stronger."
"You better be drinkin' juice, mister." She nods firmly at Xielar before taking the pulled up seat, flashing Caitlyn a thankful grin. "Much obliged, miss. Was worried I wouldn't get a seat tonight." She shakes a disbelieving head at the crowd and scootches in her chair a bit to prevent any possible trippings. "At times like this I'm glad I'm not a bartender anymore. 'course, the living caverns are pretty crazy too, but it's my day off. Lucky me!" She peers at the two dragonriders drinks. "What are you two having? Maybe I'll copy you folks." The young woman taps the centre pocket of her sarong, turning her eyes on Noemie. "Well, turns out most people overestimated the clutch number. Think we all got a bit excited over a bronze and gold pair and forgot that, oh yeah, we're in an interval despite the Thread, y'know? Got 'im all written down though. The eggs, I mean. And a rough description of each."
Xielar groans, listening to all three women talk to him. "I'm getting -so- tired of people talking to me like I'm some kid," Xielar says in frustration. "I'm nearly 16 turns!" He sighs and rakes a hand through his hair. "Were you happy with the eggs and the bets made on them, Fayre?" Xie asks, curious. He thanks the barmaid that arrives with his orangefruit juice and begins drinking quietly, listening to the conversation.
Caitlyn chuckles richly at the betting thoughts already raised around the table, taking another sip of her daquari. "I've seen kids younger than Xie drinking, Fayre. Not that I approve of it..." At Xielar's emphatic expulsion, Cait blinks at him and peers closer. "Well then, you're quite able to make your *own* decisions about alcohol." Might that imply something else? Who knows, since Cait is nodding agreement with Fayre again. "Just call me Cait, Fayre. MIss and all that stiff stuff is for formality. *Tonight* we're enjoying ourselves!" Noemie gets a quick grin. "I remember that. Even *I* teased you a little about your tea-totaling."
"It's a proddy greenrider," Noemie replies, downing the rest of the green liquid. "And speaking of--" She signals to the barmaid for a second, grinning back at Caitlyn. "How things have changed, haven't they?" For Xielar's benefit, she adds, "I don't think I drank much of anything until I was eighteen or nineteen turns. Of course, for a while I wasn't /allowed/ to, but I didn't really want to, either. You'll turn out fine if you wait 'till you're older, too."
Fayre reaches over to ruffle Xielar's hair, in what is clearly an 'aww, he thinks he's old' gesture. "Don't worry my dockworker friend. Still many turns to go of people tellin' ya how young ya are. But Cait--" She nods at the Wingleader, affirming the use of her nickname rather than title,"--here is right. If ya wanna drink, drink. Just don't go tellin' your mom it was my idea or somethin'. She sounds like the type that would give me a real ear-full if she thought I corrupted you or somethin'." She looks like she's about to gesture over a bartender, but then Noemie has done the job for her. "What Noemie is having, when you get the chance." She calls over in a raised voice. In a quieter one, "To celebrate our new betting partnership! Pull me aside when you have a free minute and we can go to the galleries and make our guesses." She grins at Xielar and with a nod, "Aye, bets are goin' good already. Always a big rush after the clutch, but it's a pretty steady stream of bets up until hatching time, 'cause once candidates start comin' in people wanna bet on who'll get what and who'll be left standin' around with their soles seared off."
Xielar grimaces back at the women, saying, "Just once I wish someone would just..." But whatever it is he wishes is left unsaid. He merely takes another long drink of his juice, listening to the three women talk. "Why do I feel like -every- girl I talk to is an auntie in training? I mean, even you riders are actin' like them." The Istan teen sighs and and shakes his head, growing moody with the topic of conversation. "It's not like I -want- to drink anything more than juice," Xie explains, but ends up fumbling with the words anyways. "It's just..." He sighs once more and shrugs. "It's just annoying when you have everyone around you talking like your some baby," Xielar tells them. "I mean, I realize I'm not that old, but I'm not that young -either-." The last is said pointedly to the women, and a glare is sent toward Fayre. He doesn't even acknowledge her last response to him with regard to the betting.
"Like Noemie says, no rush," Caitlyn murmurs offhandedly to Xielar, leaning over her drink and sipping in a more relaxed manner. "Meh, I don't have much luck at gambling on eggs..." she notes when Fayre is done speaking, grinning at the pudgy woman. And again Xielar is complaining, prompting the bluerider to mutter, "Don't call *me* anyone's auntie. Bleh!" His teenager-is glare at Fayre only makes Cait's eyes roll towards the ceiling.
"It's not that you're /young/," Noemie says to Xielar, "It's just that I know how much growing up I still had to do when I was your age. I felt pretty grown up, then, as I know you do now, but I still had a long way to go." The barmaid comes back then with two proddy greenriders, and Noemie takes them both from her, handing one to Fayre. "To our new partnership!" she says, tilting her glass in order to toast. "Y'know, what if we took our drinks out to the beach and discussed our thoughts on the eggs now? Naijath is out there dozing on the sand, but she says she'd like to 'consult' with you." Noemie looks a little confused as that word emerges from her mouth-- chosen by her dragon, likely, and simply relayed by her rider.
Fayre actually does look a little apologetic about the teenager's reaction and she stares down at the table, tracing random shapes on the surface. "Hey, nothin' wrong with being an auntie, Cait! I come from a long line of gossiping auntie folk." She notes cheerfully, her usual grin returning. "Sorry if I offended ya, Xielar. Didn't mean to. Enjoy your youth while ya got it, though. Not that I'm old or anythin' myself, but. Whatever. Just be happy!" The young woman nods her thanks at the barmaid and eagerly snatches up her drink. "Oooh, excellent! I bet Naijath wants to help us with our gamblin'. Probably gonna suggest all green, but that's alright." She wiggles her glass a bit. "Our drinks are certianly suited for such."
Xielar looks from Caitlyn to Noemie and just sighs in frustration. "Right," Xielar finally says after another long drink from his glass of juice. "The time will come and I will grow up." He nods once more, saying, "I'm not rushing things. I just wish..." And once again, the words fail him. Instead smirks at Fayre, saying to her: "Why does it not surprise me that you come from a long line of gossipin' aunties, Fayre?" The Istan teen shakes his head at the gambling addict, telling her, "It's alright. Just been a sore point as of late, Fayre."
Caitlyn lifts an inquring glance to Noemie, but returns to her drinking - giving the about-to-depart pair of women a shrug and wave. "Later, you two. I *might* be interested in going in a little on the betting *if* either of you are much better bettors than I am." Smirk. To Fayre, "There is to *me*." Cue stuck-out tongue. "How's that juice mix taste?" she inquires idly of Xielar.
Noemie rises, saying, "Oh, I know I'll be an old auntie someday. I'll be after the whole weyr the way I'm after my children to keep their faces clean and know their teaching songs and scales." Grinning, she waves to Xielar and Caitlyn. "I'll see you later!" And she heads out towards the beach, motioning for Fayre to follow.
Noemie walks out to the north beach.
Noemie has left.
You walk out to the north beach.
North Beach -- Ista Weyr(#522RJMs)
Sunset at the beach: as the cool wind blows in from over the waters, the sallow sun slips below the wave-tossed sea that fades from green to black. The light of Rukbat washes the beach, the forests to your south, and the great black rock of the Weyr behind you in crimson light. The stars climb up over the Weyr and the plateau to your east, rising above the mist cast by the dancing waterfall that glows in a million firey rainbows. The black sands of the beach stretch for kilometres to the north and south, following the shoreline of the plateau. Below the pastel beauty of the blue-green sunset sky to the west, the dark smudges of the Ista Isles float on the sea, like the coils of some mythical monster.
The wet fall season oppresses the island with high humidity and sweltering temperatures. As the sun sets, a gray blanket of clouds dominates the sky and the air is still, offering no relief from Ista's heat.
To the northwest, a bridge arches over the stream. To the south, the beaches continue to where long docks stretch far into the bay.
Contents:
Noemie
Naijath
Kintryth
Fayre tromps out of the Sandbar, taking care not to spill her drink now that she's on a lumpy beach. She wiggles her toes a bit as her feet sink into the sand, covering them in the sticky black grains. "Ah, a bit nicer out here, isn't it? Less crowded, more air. Plus the lovely sound of the waves." She tilts her head, grinning. "Who could ever move away from Ista Island, eh?" She takes a sip of her drink and lets out a satisfied 'ahhhh'.
Naijath and Kintryth are both lounging on the beach not far from one another, enjoying the last of the warmth that the sand captures from the sun each day. Noemie heads towards them, also being careful not to spill her drink. "I fully agree. It's perfect here, isn't it? I can't imagine I ever could leave, now." Sensing her rider approaching, Naijath lifts her head, crooning at the two young women.
Fayre nods eagerly as she sips away at her drink, causing a few precious drops to spill out and stain her mouth. "Oops, 'scuse my messiness." She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, a slight blush marring her cheeks. "Should have brought a napkin, eh? Ah well." With her free hand the young woman cheerfully waves at the two dragons. "H'lo you two! Enjoying our fine Istan sun, I see. Can't blame ya."
Kintryth gives a soft sigh, his eyes half-lidded and glowing lambently in the twilight. A twitch ripples across his hide...then another. CLimbing slowly to his front feet, the blue proceeds to start rubbing his affected haunch against the grainy sand. And when that doesn't work, he stands up fully, and begins to lumber around, swiping that itchy haunch against whatever is nearby...rock outcroppings, sand dunes, washed up tree limbs. His wanderings take him all over the place, yet he somehow manages to stay close to his green sister.
"Careful!" Noemie says. "Although, worse comes to worse, the sandbar's not far. We could go back and fetch more drinks. You didn't bring your betting book with you, did you?" As she reaches her lifemate, she drops down to the sand-- carefully, so as not to spill her drink!-- and leans against Naijath. The green gives a delicate whuff towards Fayre, as if in affirmative response to her question. Then the turns her head towards the blue, wearing as amused an expression as a dragon possibly can.
Fayre can't help but chuckle at Kintryth's odd actions. "Must be frustrating to have an itch you can't scratch. We're lucky it's only a metaphor for us humans, rather than an actual problem." She watches the blue with a bemused smile before she strides--well, as much as a short person can stride--over to Noemie and her dragon. "So, what can I put you down for Naijath?" She asks with a chuckle and a wink for the Wingleader. "My betting book is with me at all times, m'dear." The young woman plucks it out of her sarong's pocket proudly. "See?"
Kintryth is still stymied by what seems to be an unreachable itch, the blue sallying fore and aft to try and relieve himself of it. His lumbering skip-hops soon take him perilously close to The Sandbar, where he leans over and begins to scratch at his hide in another place - namely his chin.
Noemie laughs, still watching Kintryth. "Usually just a metaphor. There are some places that are difficult, like if you have an itch on your upper back." At the appearance of Fayre's book, she grins. "I'm impressed! Well, for that one egg that was a terrible jumble of colors, she thought brown, because it's what all the colors would be if you mixed them together, you know?" And thus the greenrider begins a rather begins what becomes a rather involved discussion of possible colors, eventually resulting in several bets being marked down in the book.
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. As the sun sets, a gray blanket of clouds dominates the sky and the air is still, offering no relief from Ista's heat.
Contents:
Xielar
Noemie
Caitlyn
Noemie, Caitlyn, and Xielar are seated at a table near the middle of the Sandbar, in the middle of toasting to the eggs newly on the sand. Noe laughs at Caitlyn's eager call to the barmaid, adding in, "You know, they can make nearly anything her without the alcohol in it. Some of the blends of juices and things are good on their own." At the clink of glasses, the greenrider grins, then downs quite a bit more of her drink. It's a celebration, it's the only right thing to do!
A toast to the new clutch? In the Sandbar? Fayre's bound to be there soon, and indeed, she comes marching into the pretty open-air bar with an accomplished smile on her face. Familiar voices and faces soon tug the assistant headwoman over to Noemie, Caitlyn, and Xielar, her smile widening into a grin when she arrives. "Geez, Xielar. First gambling, now drinking? There's nothin' wrong with bein' young, y'know. Anyone mind if I join in the fun?"
"Any kind of juice will do then," he tells Caitlyn, then glances to Noemie and nods again. "I suppose so. I think my mother only wanted me to stay away from this place because my father might frequent here and she doesn't want me getting involved with him." He frowns briefly and goes on to admit quietly: "That's my theory anyways." He spots Fayre's arrival and smirks back at the older woman, "I'm not doing any such thing." He snorts and concludes: I'll be drinking -juice- thank you very much." (pose by Xielar)
Caitlyn is back in better spirits now that the fun has resumed for them, ordering a three juice mix for Xielar - which sends the barmaid scurrying to fix it - while Cait then looks up and out to see... "Fayre! Yeah, we have one more spot, c'mon over!" The bluerider proceeds to pull out the seat beside her in preparation for Fayre's rump to be settled onto it. The crowd is thick in The Sandbar tonight, likely due to the eager expectancy over the newly-laid clutch.
"Fayre! Yes, join us," calls Noemie. "The more the merrier. How did the bets go, once all the eggs were laid? I have a few ideas, but we'll have to put our heads together before making any picks." She grins, tipping her glass once again in greeting, and an added, silent second toast. "You'll like the juice, Xielar. It's what I drank for a long time before I got the guts up to actually try something stronger."
"You better be drinkin' juice, mister." She nods firmly at Xielar before taking the pulled up seat, flashing Caitlyn a thankful grin. "Much obliged, miss. Was worried I wouldn't get a seat tonight." She shakes a disbelieving head at the crowd and scootches in her chair a bit to prevent any possible trippings. "At times like this I'm glad I'm not a bartender anymore. 'course, the living caverns are pretty crazy too, but it's my day off. Lucky me!" She peers at the two dragonriders drinks. "What are you two having? Maybe I'll copy you folks." The young woman taps the centre pocket of her sarong, turning her eyes on Noemie. "Well, turns out most people overestimated the clutch number. Think we all got a bit excited over a bronze and gold pair and forgot that, oh yeah, we're in an interval despite the Thread, y'know? Got 'im all written down though. The eggs, I mean. And a rough description of each."
Xielar groans, listening to all three women talk to him. "I'm getting -so- tired of people talking to me like I'm some kid," Xielar says in frustration. "I'm nearly 16 turns!" He sighs and rakes a hand through his hair. "Were you happy with the eggs and the bets made on them, Fayre?" Xie asks, curious. He thanks the barmaid that arrives with his orangefruit juice and begins drinking quietly, listening to the conversation.
Caitlyn chuckles richly at the betting thoughts already raised around the table, taking another sip of her daquari. "I've seen kids younger than Xie drinking, Fayre. Not that I approve of it..." At Xielar's emphatic expulsion, Cait blinks at him and peers closer. "Well then, you're quite able to make your *own* decisions about alcohol." Might that imply something else? Who knows, since Cait is nodding agreement with Fayre again. "Just call me Cait, Fayre. MIss and all that stiff stuff is for formality. *Tonight* we're enjoying ourselves!" Noemie gets a quick grin. "I remember that. Even *I* teased you a little about your tea-totaling."
"It's a proddy greenrider," Noemie replies, downing the rest of the green liquid. "And speaking of--" She signals to the barmaid for a second, grinning back at Caitlyn. "How things have changed, haven't they?" For Xielar's benefit, she adds, "I don't think I drank much of anything until I was eighteen or nineteen turns. Of course, for a while I wasn't /allowed/ to, but I didn't really want to, either. You'll turn out fine if you wait 'till you're older, too."
Fayre reaches over to ruffle Xielar's hair, in what is clearly an 'aww, he thinks he's old' gesture. "Don't worry my dockworker friend. Still many turns to go of people tellin' ya how young ya are. But Cait--" She nods at the Wingleader, affirming the use of her nickname rather than title,"--here is right. If ya wanna drink, drink. Just don't go tellin' your mom it was my idea or somethin'. She sounds like the type that would give me a real ear-full if she thought I corrupted you or somethin'." She looks like she's about to gesture over a bartender, but then Noemie has done the job for her. "What Noemie is having, when you get the chance." She calls over in a raised voice. In a quieter one, "To celebrate our new betting partnership! Pull me aside when you have a free minute and we can go to the galleries and make our guesses." She grins at Xielar and with a nod, "Aye, bets are goin' good already. Always a big rush after the clutch, but it's a pretty steady stream of bets up until hatching time, 'cause once candidates start comin' in people wanna bet on who'll get what and who'll be left standin' around with their soles seared off."
Xielar grimaces back at the women, saying, "Just once I wish someone would just..." But whatever it is he wishes is left unsaid. He merely takes another long drink of his juice, listening to the three women talk. "Why do I feel like -every- girl I talk to is an auntie in training? I mean, even you riders are actin' like them." The Istan teen sighs and and shakes his head, growing moody with the topic of conversation. "It's not like I -want- to drink anything more than juice," Xie explains, but ends up fumbling with the words anyways. "It's just..." He sighs once more and shrugs. "It's just annoying when you have everyone around you talking like your some baby," Xielar tells them. "I mean, I realize I'm not that old, but I'm not that young -either-." The last is said pointedly to the women, and a glare is sent toward Fayre. He doesn't even acknowledge her last response to him with regard to the betting.
"Like Noemie says, no rush," Caitlyn murmurs offhandedly to Xielar, leaning over her drink and sipping in a more relaxed manner. "Meh, I don't have much luck at gambling on eggs..." she notes when Fayre is done speaking, grinning at the pudgy woman. And again Xielar is complaining, prompting the bluerider to mutter, "Don't call *me* anyone's auntie. Bleh!" His teenager-is glare at Fayre only makes Cait's eyes roll towards the ceiling.
"It's not that you're /young/," Noemie says to Xielar, "It's just that I know how much growing up I still had to do when I was your age. I felt pretty grown up, then, as I know you do now, but I still had a long way to go." The barmaid comes back then with two proddy greenriders, and Noemie takes them both from her, handing one to Fayre. "To our new partnership!" she says, tilting her glass in order to toast. "Y'know, what if we took our drinks out to the beach and discussed our thoughts on the eggs now? Naijath is out there dozing on the sand, but she says she'd like to 'consult' with you." Noemie looks a little confused as that word emerges from her mouth-- chosen by her dragon, likely, and simply relayed by her rider.
Fayre actually does look a little apologetic about the teenager's reaction and she stares down at the table, tracing random shapes on the surface. "Hey, nothin' wrong with being an auntie, Cait! I come from a long line of gossiping auntie folk." She notes cheerfully, her usual grin returning. "Sorry if I offended ya, Xielar. Didn't mean to. Enjoy your youth while ya got it, though. Not that I'm old or anythin' myself, but. Whatever. Just be happy!" The young woman nods her thanks at the barmaid and eagerly snatches up her drink. "Oooh, excellent! I bet Naijath wants to help us with our gamblin'. Probably gonna suggest all green, but that's alright." She wiggles her glass a bit. "Our drinks are certianly suited for such."
Xielar looks from Caitlyn to Noemie and just sighs in frustration. "Right," Xielar finally says after another long drink from his glass of juice. "The time will come and I will grow up." He nods once more, saying, "I'm not rushing things. I just wish..." And once again, the words fail him. Instead smirks at Fayre, saying to her: "Why does it not surprise me that you come from a long line of gossipin' aunties, Fayre?" The Istan teen shakes his head at the gambling addict, telling her, "It's alright. Just been a sore point as of late, Fayre."
Caitlyn lifts an inquring glance to Noemie, but returns to her drinking - giving the about-to-depart pair of women a shrug and wave. "Later, you two. I *might* be interested in going in a little on the betting *if* either of you are much better bettors than I am." Smirk. To Fayre, "There is to *me*." Cue stuck-out tongue. "How's that juice mix taste?" she inquires idly of Xielar.
Noemie rises, saying, "Oh, I know I'll be an old auntie someday. I'll be after the whole weyr the way I'm after my children to keep their faces clean and know their teaching songs and scales." Grinning, she waves to Xielar and Caitlyn. "I'll see you later!" And she heads out towards the beach, motioning for Fayre to follow.
Noemie walks out to the north beach.
Noemie has left.
You walk out to the north beach.
North Beach -- Ista Weyr(#522RJMs)
Sunset at the beach: as the cool wind blows in from over the waters, the sallow sun slips below the wave-tossed sea that fades from green to black. The light of Rukbat washes the beach, the forests to your south, and the great black rock of the Weyr behind you in crimson light. The stars climb up over the Weyr and the plateau to your east, rising above the mist cast by the dancing waterfall that glows in a million firey rainbows. The black sands of the beach stretch for kilometres to the north and south, following the shoreline of the plateau. Below the pastel beauty of the blue-green sunset sky to the west, the dark smudges of the Ista Isles float on the sea, like the coils of some mythical monster.
The wet fall season oppresses the island with high humidity and sweltering temperatures. As the sun sets, a gray blanket of clouds dominates the sky and the air is still, offering no relief from Ista's heat.
To the northwest, a bridge arches over the stream. To the south, the beaches continue to where long docks stretch far into the bay.
Contents:
Noemie
Naijath
Kintryth
Fayre tromps out of the Sandbar, taking care not to spill her drink now that she's on a lumpy beach. She wiggles her toes a bit as her feet sink into the sand, covering them in the sticky black grains. "Ah, a bit nicer out here, isn't it? Less crowded, more air. Plus the lovely sound of the waves." She tilts her head, grinning. "Who could ever move away from Ista Island, eh?" She takes a sip of her drink and lets out a satisfied 'ahhhh'.
Naijath and Kintryth are both lounging on the beach not far from one another, enjoying the last of the warmth that the sand captures from the sun each day. Noemie heads towards them, also being careful not to spill her drink. "I fully agree. It's perfect here, isn't it? I can't imagine I ever could leave, now." Sensing her rider approaching, Naijath lifts her head, crooning at the two young women.
Fayre nods eagerly as she sips away at her drink, causing a few precious drops to spill out and stain her mouth. "Oops, 'scuse my messiness." She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, a slight blush marring her cheeks. "Should have brought a napkin, eh? Ah well." With her free hand the young woman cheerfully waves at the two dragons. "H'lo you two! Enjoying our fine Istan sun, I see. Can't blame ya."
Kintryth gives a soft sigh, his eyes half-lidded and glowing lambently in the twilight. A twitch ripples across his hide...then another. CLimbing slowly to his front feet, the blue proceeds to start rubbing his affected haunch against the grainy sand. And when that doesn't work, he stands up fully, and begins to lumber around, swiping that itchy haunch against whatever is nearby...rock outcroppings, sand dunes, washed up tree limbs. His wanderings take him all over the place, yet he somehow manages to stay close to his green sister.
"Careful!" Noemie says. "Although, worse comes to worse, the sandbar's not far. We could go back and fetch more drinks. You didn't bring your betting book with you, did you?" As she reaches her lifemate, she drops down to the sand-- carefully, so as not to spill her drink!-- and leans against Naijath. The green gives a delicate whuff towards Fayre, as if in affirmative response to her question. Then the turns her head towards the blue, wearing as amused an expression as a dragon possibly can.
Fayre can't help but chuckle at Kintryth's odd actions. "Must be frustrating to have an itch you can't scratch. We're lucky it's only a metaphor for us humans, rather than an actual problem." She watches the blue with a bemused smile before she strides--well, as much as a short person can stride--over to Noemie and her dragon. "So, what can I put you down for Naijath?" She asks with a chuckle and a wink for the Wingleader. "My betting book is with me at all times, m'dear." The young woman plucks it out of her sarong's pocket proudly. "See?"
Kintryth is still stymied by what seems to be an unreachable itch, the blue sallying fore and aft to try and relieve himself of it. His lumbering skip-hops soon take him perilously close to The Sandbar, where he leans over and begins to scratch at his hide in another place - namely his chin.
Noemie laughs, still watching Kintryth. "Usually just a metaphor. There are some places that are difficult, like if you have an itch on your upper back." At the appearance of Fayre's book, she grins. "I'm impressed! Well, for that one egg that was a terrible jumble of colors, she thought brown, because it's what all the colors would be if you mixed them together, you know?" And thus the greenrider begins a rather begins what becomes a rather involved discussion of possible colors, eventually resulting in several bets being marked down in the book.