In which Nolee and P'draig catch up over a foot massage
Nolee, P'draig
Ista Weyr
Evening has descended on Ista, the sky heavy laden with clouds, the stars only showing here and there between them. It's pleasant out, a cool breeze drifting through the Sandbar. Occupying a stool at the bar itself is the perhaps-familiar of Fort's Weyrlingmaster, elbows propped on bar, dressed down Istan-style in shorts and a somewhat colorful shirt, half-buttoned. Bare feet hook the rungs of the stool as Paddy nurses a dark-colored drink in a short, fat glass. Off to one side, a group is playing cards, laughing and betting and generally enjoying themselves. While the visitor looks on with a smile, he doesn't join in.
Evening brings Nolee, seeking relieve away from the bustle of the weyr in the tranquility of the beach. The lapping waves catch her skirts and dampen them, the wind of earlier evening having made a wreck of her hair. It is in this state, unfettered, dampened, and unburdened, that she meanders into the sandbar, drawn by the merry call of laughter from the card tables. A barstool with a worn edge welcomes, and she plops onto the familiar seat, shaking her head so the ends of her hair provide a light shower for the Weyrlingmaster nearby. She hums to herself while she waits to order her drink, not noticing anything particular about the sire of Nalaieth's last clutch who happens to be seated at her side.
Plop. There's a Nolee on the stool beside P'draig and the sound of the stool creaking a little turns his head away from the cards and towards the windblown goldrider. Immediately, a fond smile curls up the corners of his mouth and without thinking, he reaches out a hand towards those blowsy locks, mindless of the spatter of dampening droplets that decorates his shirt. "Fort's duties to you and Nala, Nolee," he says with quiet amusement.
Nolee actually startles as her companion brushes back her hair, and it takes a few moments of staring narrow-eyed at him in his loungey beachwear before she places him. "Patchrag!" She inspects him head to toe, even observing, "Jays, you even lost your shoes." Only after that comment does she think to return, "Ooh, and duties to you and Fort and all them, too. We brought you all some fruit; did you get any? It was fresh and didn't even freeze solid *between*, like I thought it might." She spontaneously reaches out to give him a hug, the fondness a girl might show for a favored sibling or a long lost pal. "Oh, but watch my neck. I've a rash from the itchy flowers."
P'draig laughs a little as his old nickname resurfaces. "Me indeed, but no, shoes're up at Mic's, didn't want 'em. Didn't seem to be much point since I was only coming down here and sand knocks off of feet just easily as sandals." His head bobs in thanks for the duties and his brows lift. "Fruit? Really? No, I think I missed it, good thing it didn't freeze, nothing quite like mushy fruit." The hug he returns in kind, expression still fond. "Rash?" Again his hand shifts, this time to gently tweak hair aside for a look at the indicated rash. "What itchy flowers?"
"Mic's?" Nolee squints, trying to identify a shoe-keeper with that name. "Oh, the rider. The greenrider! I know which one that is. He lives here. I guess that explains why you are in the sandbar, without shoes." She giggles a little bit. "A woman said things would go into breakfasts, so if you missed breakfast, maybe you missed out." The mention of the rash makes Nolee a little itchy, and she rubs at the little red bumps on her neck that still persist. "I don't know - someone picked them and made leis and we all wore them and some of us got rashes only mine still won't go away even though I use lotion. Probably because I scratch heaps more." She shrugs it off and orders a Weyrling'd Delight, then beams at him. "Glad to see you didn't lose anything. I mean, what with those accidents over there and all."
"Yeah. T'mic, Aath's," P'draig elaborates. "He's got some duties tonight keeping him busy or I'd be up there, instead of down here," he says with a laugh. "And yeah, missed a bunch of breakfasts lately, mostly been just grabbing some klah and bread on the go." He eyes the rash for a moment and nods. "Yeah, maybe you need something that stops the itch really well?" Brows lift a little and there's sympathy about the rash itself on his face. "Lose anything? How d'you mean?" With a headtilt and and another sip from his very brown glass. "You should try this sometime, tastes like cinnamon. It's called a "Feisty Girl"."
"Aath's! He's funny." Nolee's assessment punctuated by a bright smile as the dragon's personality is opined by Nalaieth. "Ugh, duties. Probably working for some bossy holder, or running errands or sweeps. Those things always go late." Missing breakfasts brings a slight frown. "That's too bad. The fruit was good! But since you're here, you could have it even fresher." She hides the rash with one hand. "I had lotion! But I used it all." On the next subject, she hesitates. "I shouldn't have brought it up. You know. People getting hurt over there. You haven't lost things. Like your toes or anything." His last brings a head-tilt. "Does it have liquor? I'm not so fond of the taste. I prefer the juice."
"Yeah," P'draig agrees to both with marked fondness. "I'll probably bring him up some dinner. See if someone'll let me sneak some stove time before he gets back. Make sure he gets a square meal in him before bed." Taking another sip from his glass, Paddy shakes his head. "Oh don't worry about it too much Nolee, I get down here often enough, I'm not exactly missing out on Istan fruit. But I'm very glad you thought of Fort, very sweet of you." On the accidents, his head shakes again. "I'm still all in one piece. I don't know what that was all about, crazy, you know? But there haven't been any repeats so ... just flukes." He tilts the glass a little so she can smell if she likes. "There's some liquor. Yeah. So maybe not for you, I'd have to get more of that pear stuff."
"Him Mic? Not him Aath, since that's not a him." Nolee puzzles this out as she speaks, her expressions following her train of thought. "Ooh, that's right. You cook things. Jays, that's thoughtful of you, to make him dinner. I should ask for that, too, dinners brought to my weyr. Except it's not as good a break unless I leave my desk." Nolee leans forward, sniffs the drink, then shakes her head. "I'll take the pear juice anytime. That had wonderful flavor, if I remember right." She mmms at the memory, then nods. "Flukes. That's good to hear. It's scary, the things happening to some of the goldriders, even." To reassure him, she notes, "Nalaieth's not afraid, though. I bet Jesk- your dragon isn't either. He's got so much enthusiasm for everything, he's probably ready for all of it." Trusting smile.
"Yes, him T'mic," P'draig says agreeably, propping his chin in his hand and just smiling brightly at Nolee, apparently charmed more than put out by the divagations of her mind. "I try to take as good care of him as he does of me," he continues, eyes dancing a little. "And make sure you leave that desk, Nolee, everyone deserves a good break whether it's at home or in the living cavern." He nods about the drink, keeps it for himself, takesa another sip. "Jek," he murmurs, never could get her to adopt the habit. "Nope. we weren't afraid. I figured it was just bad straps and Niyath ... took a bad turn." There his voice is quieter. "Sad that really. Jenna was a very capable Weyrwoman."
"He takes care of you?" Nolee tilts her head, then giggles. "That's very sweet! It's nice to be taken care of." She stretches out her toes, wrapping them around the bar stool's support. "Like having foot massages. If you can get those, do. They're wonderful! Even better for breaks than the living cavern." Nolee considers scratching her neck again, but fights the urge and plants her hands in her lap, where they rustle at her skirt restlessly. "Yeah. Bad turns can happen even to experienced riders," she recites, lesson-style. "Jays, is it sure she's gonna have to step down? I mean, we've heard whispers, Nalaieth thought - but is it really a 'was'?" Unspoken, her expression considers Igenite weyrwomen lost in recent turns, and she looks to him for encouragement.
"We take care of each other," P'draig replies, his tone gentle as he goes on, "we're weyrmated, Nolee. As much as two people who don't live at the same Weyr and don't limit each other's other partners can be, Nolee." The last of his drink goes down the hatch and he pushes the glass away, gestures for Kip to come over and leans in to make a request of the barkeep who nods and vanishes into the back. Solemnly, Paddy puts down a full mark piece on the bar with two sixteenths balanced on top and slides these towards the back of the bartop. "If you want one, I'll volunteer, friendly-like of course," he says with another grin for the goldrider. On Niyath and Jenna he just nods. "Next gold to go up will be the new Senior."
"You are?" Nolee's face lights up, and she leans over to give Paddy another hug, provided he's still for it. "Jays, I would've sent a basket or something. Maybe I will still. With some nice minty lotions, the kind from Telgar? They're soo soothing on the feet." She blathers a little bit more, then tilts her head. "You'll volunteer?" Speculatively, she considers this. "If it's all friendly-like, then sure! I'd give Caity a foot massage if she wanted, and that doesn't make any bother so maybe I could take you up on that." A wistful expression fades slowly. "I hope Gree-r lives forever. Even if her new Weyrleader is a criminal." Sour face.
P'draig is quite amenable for another hug and hug back he does. "Mm. Not really official or anything yet, there's been some holdups with our plans and so on, but we hop back and forth." He smiles about minty lotions and chuckles. "Sure, might make Mic laugh a little, but that's sweet of you to offer." With a little salute he nods. "Friendly-like. We're still friends, aren't we?" Cajolingly almost and then his brows lift a little, just as Kip sets down a bottle of the famed pear stuff and two fresh glasses. The Fortian opens the bottle while he listens to the rest of what Nolee has to say, pours out two portions and slides one of the glasses her way. "My treat. And A'son's not a full-on criminal, just a one-time thing, as far as I know."
"Aw, that's still very nice. C'len and I hop back and forth, too, and it works out all right." That's her best encouragement that 'long-distance' relationships can work out. "Mint is a good scent for girls and for boys," Nolee tells him, very serious in tone. "Ooh! I didn't know there'd be some of that juice here!" She eagerly pushes aside her recently-arrived Weyrling's Delight in favor of the quality pear blend. "I could just put my foot right in your lap, or take a nice promise-to-bear on that for a time that has a better seat." Regardless of his perspective on A'son, Nolee sniffs. She's made up her mind.
"Do you? Good, I'm glad that's still working out, Noles." P'draig's only got another grin about the lotion then he turns a little on his stool, pats the top of one thigh. "Sure, unless Kip's got objections to cute goldrider feet being massaged in plain view at his bar?" Teasing a little, he winks across at the weyrwoman and then takes a sip of his own drink. "Yeah, good stuff. Good memories." His glass lifts, toasts silently towards her and he takes a deeper drink.
"It is." Nolee smiles, and tentatively pulls up one foot, carefully tucking her skirt in around herself for modesty, and plants it on Paddy's thigh with a stream of giggles. "I don't see any signs about rules," Nolee ventures. "Though if they're far enough away, I might not be able to read them well." To prepare for public foot massage, Nolee takes a big sip of her drink. "Ooh, jays, this is just as good as I thought it was." Her toes wiggle, leaving a trace of sand behind. "I put fresh polish on them but it's all wearing off from the sand. It's too bad boys don't wear polish much. There are heaps of good colors and it's very relaxing to apply."
The modesty is simply accepted and Paddy slides one hand around her heel, the other taking hold of her toes to shift her foot a little and make it easier to apply pressure from the angle he's sitting at. Duly, he looks down at the polish and traces one faded nail lightly with the edge of a finger. "Pretty," he notes with an easy grin, then sets to the actual task set, ignoring trailing grains of sand as they slide off his lap and onto the floor. Strong hands show proof of experience with this particular task and P'draig seems completely at ease with the setup, bar and all.
Nolee giggles at first, at the situation and at tickling fingers that cause her toes to crinkle and dance about. "Thanks! Different things make it different colors. This one's one of my favorites." While at first she's rather embarrassed about the location, Nolee begins to relax and her shoulders droop a little bit. "Ahh," she sighs, contented. "Pear drinks and foot massages. Not a bad day at all. Except for rash itches and meetings with Holders. Those parts weren't the best. What's the best part of your days? Resting in the sun? Playing in the cold snow over there?"
Keeping up the work of his hands, P'draig only takes short breaks for more of his drink, smiling across at Nolee. "I do what I can to help out," Paddy says mildly and nods at the bottle of pear stuff. "It's got that heady flavor that stuff, s'good." As his fingers resume he looks up at Nolee and replies promptly to that query. "Tucking my daughter in at night."
"Heady stuff? Is that like an alcohol flavor? This doesn't taste like alcohol to me. It's much better than that. And sweeter, and thicker." Nolee drinks more of the pear liquid, savoring it on her tongue. "I didn't know Pip stocked this. He's very handy." Close to his name, so close, Nolee babbles a little as she relaxes. "That's very sweet. Does your daughter like Aath's, too? I'd be surprised if Aath shares well. She's very, what's the word Nala used? Centric. Or something like that."
"There's a little alcohol in it, but it doesn't taste like it," P'draig explains, "so don't guzzle it like juice," he warns further, thumbs working their way up the middle of Nolee's foot. "Palia's still ... kind of on the fence about Mic. Aath's pretty keen on Jekzith so she puts up with me."
"Okay," Nolee reasons out, cutting her consumption of the pear drink down by having a big sip of her Weyrling's delight, a juice-and-fruit-only beverage. "Ooh, it's amazing how much just climbing up the side of a big round dragon can tire out my feet. I must've gone up and down twenty times today with all the messages and errands and strap fittings." The goldrider presses her lips together, then shakes her head. "It's enough for me to worry out what Nala thinks of people. I can't imagine having to consider what a changeable, needy little would want, too."
"Palia's almost two - talks a blue streak," P'draig says with a fair bit of paternal pride. "She's ... well she's just amazing. It was kind of rough when she was little, she was sickly when she was born, but she got better. She's all pink chubby cheeks and cute brown curls and gray eyes like my mother's now," he describes his little girl with a goofy daddy smile, almost forgetting about Nolee's foot, then blinking and resuming where he left off, working his way down to the heel then starting again from the top, rotating toes. "Almost time to switch," he notes, about her foot.
"Eee, eee, eeeee," contributes Nolee as her toes are wiggled. This, of course, is of more interest to her than the alien notion of growing toddlers. "Almost two. And with the turnover so recent, it seems like everyone's counting their age. I don't want to think about mine. Or Nala's. Jays." As Paddy notes the switch, Nolee readies, even dusting her other foot off and stretching the ankle to limber it up. When he's wrapped with that one, she'll gently stretch it out and just let it hang rather than propping it against the barstool as she switches feet. "This is better than right around the hatching when everyone's fussing about how I look and if I ate enough."
"Mmhm, getting to be a big girl now. Almost. Always be my baby though," P'draig says contentedly, patiently waits for the foot switch and brushes a few more grains of sand off that foot before starting in. "I'll be thirty this turn," he volunteers, clearly unbothered by this. "And they fuss about that? Really?" Blink blink.
"Sometimes they have. Only if it's Nala's hatching, though. Otherwise they just tell me to clean up and stay out of the way. I guess if I might be seen, it's important to keep me happy, because that keeps Nala happy." Nolee again giggles and twitches her foot at the tickley brushing away of grains. "I'm not that old yet. But I'm not far off of it. Only a few turns and I'll be that old, too." A woeful expression. "Ma says I had lines before, though, from sqinting into the fires. So at least people think I look authoritative. You don't look old, though," she reassures.
"Mm. Happy rider, happy dragon?" P'draig hazards and puts a little more pressure into his thumbs. "I don't really think 30 is old," he notes after a moment, lifting her foot a little so he can press into the heel a little. "I mean, it's just a sneeze in the greater scheme of things. 100 ... 120 turns ... if we manage to make it through this not-a-Pass." There his expression turns a little wry and he does the toe-rotating thing again. A moment later, his eyes go a little vague and when he resurfaces it's with a brighter smile yet. "T'mic's home, I'll just finish up and then I'm going to go welcome him back. It's been good to see you again though Nolee, get caught up." It doesn't take long to get that second foot all done, then he reaches for his glass and knocks back the rest of the contents, caps the bottle and loose curls it into the crook of his arm.
"Really? That long? Jays." Nolee considers this eternity of a time frame, sighing softly, then eeeing some more as toes are moved about. "Ooh, he is? Now your feet-massinging muscles are all warmed up and you can go and help him next." While enjoying the rest of the massage, Nolee finishes her glass as well, picks out the fruit she most wants to eat, and abandons the rest. "I've got heaps of energy now, thanks!" Her toes stretch to the floor, and she stands up tall. "Ready to face another day of scaling Mt. Nalaieth. Thank you for your courtesy and the heaps of greatness massage, Patchrag." She offers Paddy another quick familial hug before she darts back out into the evening, her stringy damp hair fanning behind as she goes.
P'draig getsa a quirky grin on his face all over again, returns that hug and then since Nolee's scampered off, goes out to meet Jekzith at a more leisurely pace, whistling as he goes to meet T'mic.