(no subject)
It is a winter night, 19:30 of day 27, month 1, turn 23 of Interval 10.
Nighthearth, Fort Weyr
An irregular archway leads into the alcove that houses Fort Weyr's nighthearth. The cozy little nook is kept stocked at all times with fresh, hot klah, a pot of stew and a basket of baked goods including breads and both savory and sweet filled rolls. Several leather upholstered chairs stand clustered around the hearth itself which has a grate for propping up chilled feet to warm up on cold days. The Weyr's aunties also keep the space well-supplied with a stack of perpetually renewed afghans in interesting color choices, while the headwoman's staff ensures that some of the older towels are always on hand for riders ducking in off of sweeps in bad weather. Otherwise, the nighthearth is undecorated but for the motley collection of mismatched mugs, bowls and spoons that line the mantel for general use.
Obvious exits:
Out
Past dinner on a cold, clear night, T'rev's just back in from a visit to tuck in his trader-born daughter down in Boll and swings into the nighthearth to find the klah pot and the hearth, warm up a bit. Booted feet make distinct echoes on the stone floor and the bronzerider utters a low: "Brrr," as he nears the pot that always stands at the ready here.
Niora's perched on one of the leather chairs, a mug of klah seeming to serve more as a handwarmer than something to actually drink, but she's awake ... mostly ... jotting a few things down on a scrap of paper. Her brow furrows, a scowl appearing briefly on her face. And then, as she leans forwards to write something else down, clumsy fingers let the mug slip, clattering splash that results in a muffled, "Shardit!" from the girl, as she flops half off the couch, and attempts to restore her mishap to a generally neat appearance.
Startling a little, T'rev turns around without having served himself and blinks as he spots Niora and the shattered mug. Drawing near he hunkers down near broken shards of crockery. "Hey you okay? Here, let me get the broken pieces. I've still got my gloves on," the bronzerider offers.
Niora's got butterfingers for sure, the girl scrabbling with those guilty digits at the ground. "I should have been holding it better," she remarks, her expression something of a sheepish pout. "Should have known it would happen." But then there's the bronzerider's offer, and she wiggles upright on the seat again, brushing at her tumbled locks with klah-stained fingers, and leaving wet streaks across her forehead. "Oh, would you?" there's a brief look of relief on her face. "I'd be so grateful." The gilr glances at the paper in her hand, and grimaces. "Well, I'll have to do that all over again. Nobody'll be able to read it."
"No sense in you gettin' cut," T'rev says with a little smile upward and makes a gesture toward his forehead. "Might want t'wipe off your face though and maybe fetch a dustpan or a pail for these broken bits," he adds on. "Something to clean up the floor." He directs another grin at her though. "Happens y'know, people drop things."
Into the nighthearth comes another rider, this one with a liberal dusting of snow on shoulders and a wet-touched helmet swinging from his belt. Kai stops, perplexed, at this unexpected interruption to his evening, and sidesteps twice before offering hesitantly, "You need help, or nothing?"
"What?" the paper flutters to the floor as Niora's hands almost fly back up to her forehead, only to stop at the last minute as she dabs her damp fingers on the hem of her tunic. She drops her head, raising an arm to swipe at her forehead with one sleeve. This process of course, just transfers klah-stains to her clothing, but ... well, that's something washable later. "Thanks for telling me," she says, slipping off the chair, and heading for a corner where a dustpan and a little broom surely are. "I just have to be extra careful, really."
Tumbled locks, of a shade somewhere between dusky brown, and a true black, are worn loose from an uneven part; strands of hair falling past her ears and twining in haphazard tangles to brush her breastbone. Her face is round, a softly defined chin and plump cheekbones are still defined by lingering traces of baby fat, remnants of a childhood not long past. Thin, dark brows are set above slightly slanted eyes; the deep twilight-blue hue clearly her most striking feature. Her nose is unremarkable -- normal as far as noses go -- and her lips are well-defined; a thin upper lip and a plumper lower one -- oft poked out into a faint pout. The rest of her body is curvy enough, as far as feminine charms go, even if her waist isn't nearly as thin as she might like it to be. She's of less than average height, but is far from petite. Her complexion is pale; a sort of wan shade that might indicate the lack of time spent out of doors for long periods of time, or in particularly sunny climates. Her skin is soft, smooth and unmarred by weathering. She appears to be around 16 turns, 2 months, 0 days old.
Whoever clothed this girl might be somewhat lacking in fashion sense -- and that guilty party could easily be Niora herself. Her short-sleeve tunic is worn long, falling to a place just past her hips, and it's a sort of pale mustard shade, a hue that when combined with her complexion makes her look somewhat sallow and washed out. Her skirt is of a slightly darker color, but no less revolting than the tunic. It falls to her ankles, the cut rather full, from beneath which, the tips of her soft leather shoes can be seen. A wide leather belt, from which dangles a small belt pouch and a tiny little knife too small to be called anything more than an eating dagger, is worn over her tunic, buckled into place by a shiny clasp. Atop her shoulder sits the knot of the Weyr she calls home, a simple loop in the weyr's two colors, identifying her as a resident.
Looking up as Kai enters, T'rev gives the greenrider a little nod. "Hey Kai, just a dropped mug as needs some pickin' up," he says of the incident, picking through the puddled klah to get at the sharpest looking bits of broken crockery. "Sure," T'rev says to Niora, sits back on his heel a little while she's fetching the clean-up gear.
"Looks like you got it," the greenrider decides after looking between the two. "I'll get a refill," for whoever was lucky enough to gift their klah to the floor. He steps around the mess, over T'rev's legs, dropping Niora a nod should she glance his way, and ends up at the hearth itself. "Hey T'rev - you hear T'kyn tapped G'dri t' be Weyrlingmaster?"
Nioraemerges from the corner then, dust pan and little broom in hand, these clenched tightly in her fingers, not yet willing to relinquish it to anyone where she might do something like drop it at their feet. Still, dustpans and brooms are light as things go, and the girl crouches brushing at the spreading puddle of klah. The conversation itself is quick to go over her head, but she does glance at B'kaiv long enough to note his nod. She smiles slightly in response, followed by a quick: "Thank you!" being sung out as the greenrider heads for the hearth. "Hope that cup doesn't break though." Knock wood, maybe.
"Yeah, should be okay here," T'rev confirms and continues picking up bits until his palm is full. The shards are poured into the dustpan when Niora brings it over and the bronzerider resumes collecting the few remaining shards. Brown eyes lift and he nods. "Yeah, sure did. Heard tell Jantha was none too happy about it either, but G'dri's a good choice. Real level-headed."
"Dunno as I know your name," Kai adds to the girl, though obviously he knows the other man's. "Kai - B'kaiv," the correction hard on the nickname's heels. "B'kaiv. And Chielyth. You want nothing in your klah?" That's aimed more generally as he pours out two mugs. "How many I getting, any road? Two? Three? --Asked me t' help with th' fighting again," he tells T'rev. "Told him as I'd think on it."
"I'm Niora," the girl supplies her name readily enough at the greenrider's query. "Don't have a nickname or anything." Because Ni ... well, no... definitely not /that/ nickname. "I just need one mug," she states easily enough. "With maybe a little sweetener?" Her fingers brush over the soggy bit of paper. and she crumples it, although it's harder to do when wet. "Really appreciate the help, I do. It's nice meeting you, B'kaiv."
"I'll take one too if you're pourin' Kai, thanks," T'rev tells the greenrider, smiles over at Niora again. "Kai's a friend," the bronzerider relates to Niora. "And one of the people I was going to talk to about keepin' an eye out for your family," he adds, straightening up from his crouch as the last of the crocker is taken care of. "You liked doin' it last time, right? Go for it, I think." This to B'kaiv about helping as he pulls his gloves free of his fingers, tucks them into a pocket and reaches up to start unfastening his jacket.
B'kaiv marks the introduction with a, "Hey," and a nod, fetches another mug for filling. "Keeping a eye out for your family?" he echoes, perplexed, and doctors his mug with something from a hip flask while looking between the two. He lifts one shoulder at T'rev and glances at Niora, but answers genially enough, "You know how I feel about fighting with girls. Still, got t' say I'm probably better'n V'rel at it."
Niora hunkers backwards onto her ankles, and then, wincing faintly, pushes herself upright using the chair as a prop, doing her level best to keep from dropping that dustpan. See, the tip of her tongue is even poking out the side of her mouth, she's concentrating hard enough. "Really?" her gaze turns to T'rev, hope glimmering there, eyes wide. And she takes a sidelong glance at the greenrider too. "Oh shards, " there's a look at that soggy crumpled paper as she drops it on top of the dustpan. "I was writing down what I remembered they looked like, and what they were wearing. Though it was awful dark, and cold, and I was so scared." B'kaiv gets a second look. "I'm a refugee," she explains. "Got separated from my family." A slightly confused look crosses her face then. "What? Who's fighting who with girls?" Huh?
"You're a good fighter and a good teacher," T'rev tells Kai. "Good at teachin' fightin' anyway. And ... can you think of it as teachin' girls to defend themelves?" the wingleader finishes unfastening his jacket and steps over toward B'kaiv probably to relieve him of one of those mugs. "And Niora and her family got kicked out by enforcers n' separated," T'rev tell the greenrider. "Gonna ask Flint riders t'keep an eye out and was thinkin' about askin' you if you'd mind when you're out on sweeps and all."
"--Shells," decides Kai after listening to Niora's story. "Yeah, can keep a eye out, sure. Chielyth likes flying." He does indeed hand the bronzerider one of the mugs and sip from him before dropping the girl - or her dustpan - a nod. "You gonna throw that out, or you keeping it for something?" With a sigh the greenrider drops into one of the chairs, free hand unwinding his scarf. "Yeah, I... shells, I dunno. Oughta know -something- about how t' get outta trouble. Just... they got t' remember t' use it."
A blink, and a lengthy bit of a pause takes a moment or two before Niora glance downwards at the dustpan in hand. "Oh, right." Seems like she was awfully distracted at the turn of conversation. Balancing her other hand beneath it, so the soppy puddle of paper, and crockery shards won't tip and rain down on the floor once again, the girl moves away, headed somewhere she could dump the refuse, and return to flop down onto her recently vacated chair. "Hope you can find them," Niora says then, watching the greenrider a moment. "I just don't know where everyone is." She looks glum for a moment or two, shaking her head. "Kinda wish we could've fought back, but ..." there's a pause as she looks over at Kai. "You teach girls how to fight?"
"Thanks Kai," T'rev says simply, takes that mug and then moves to sit in one of the other chairs near the fire. "Kai's a good fighter," the wingleader explains to Niora. "And he helped with the weyrlings last clutch. All weyrlings learn basic self-defense." He grins over at the greenrider though. "Don't think they will?"
B'kaiv keeps his jacket on but unfastened, as though he doesn't plan on being here long. "Nissa didn't," he tells T'rev dourly, like that should mean something, before turning back to the girl. "--Here." That for the last mug of klah, held out. "Yeah, sorta. I don't fight pretty, like no guard or nothing. Grew up t' a waystation, rough one. But I guess I could show you something. You ain't gonna be able t' take somebody out, mind, unless you get real sharding lucky. But I could show you how t' get away from 'em."
Niora's hands are open, almost inviting to the offered mug of klah, and as soon as the smooth crockery brushes against her palms, she's clasping it tight, drawing it close so as not to spill a drop. "Oh," she nods a little in understanding at the bronzerider's explanation, but the bulk of her attention seems to be on B'kaiv. "Could see where knowing how to get away from someone'd be really useful. I thought when those ..." her expression goes dark for a moment, a scowl on her face, "men came, they were going to grab us. But they just told us all to get out and waved weapons at us. Wonder if things woulda have been different if I'd have known how to fight. Or protect myself anyway." Instead of just running away in the dark, but that last thought goes unsaid.
"Nissa's Nissa," T'rev says, easygoing. "And well ... they had that planned pretty well." He leans back in his seat, crosses his legs stretched out in front of himself and tilts a look over at the other two while the conversation goes on. "if they had weapons, probably best t'just run."
"Yeah," Kai tells Niora, hot on T'rev's heels, "you coulda got real hurt, or somebody killed." Isn't he just a fount of cheer? He tips his attention back to T'rev and shrugs, then wriggles his right arm free from the jacket and shoves up his sweater's sleeve. "This," he says, tapping a pale line on his forearm a good four inches or more long, "is what you get when th' guy you're fighting got a knife. If you're lucky, and he don't put it somewhere you're gonna notice it /more/." Eyebrows lifted at Niora, he waits for a long moment before taking a meaningful swig of klah.
Niora looks chagrined as she stares at that pale scar on the greenrider's arm. "Guess I did then right thing, huh? Running away." Besides, the girl didn't know /how/ to fight, so what could she possibly have done. Her expression looks faintly bleak at that, and she gulps at the klah from the mug in her hands. "I hope my brothers didn't try and fight. Wouldn't want anyone to have gotten hurt." she pauses, nibbling at her lower lip. "So everyone gets trained to fight? Even girls?"
"Yeah, you did," T'rev tells Niora with a firm nod. He's been sipping at his klah carefully, but has a few proper swallows now. "And they do yep. Every weyrling. Boy or girl." He seems about to say something more when he gets a look on his face and pushes to his feet. "Excuse me please, Mecaith says someone's looking for me. Niora, have a good evening. Kai, good luck makin' the decision. See you both around." So saying, the wingleader heads out, taking the mug with him wherever it is he's going.
B'kaiv lets T'rev answer it, only pushing his sleeve back and nodding the bronzerider farewell. After T'rev's gone and his jacket back on he slides an eye back to Niora. "Dunno as I'd call it no /fighting/. Self-defense. Don't like real fighting, with riders, 'cause of th' dragons. But you got t' know how t' take care of yourself, in case somebody comes after you."
"Err, guess that kind of makes sense," Niora nibbles her lower lip again, and then lifts a hand to wiggle her fingers in a farewell of a sorts to the bronzerider. "Thanks for helping me clean up." she says, the mug in her other hand wobbling a little, and she drops her uplifted arm to clamp all eight fingers and two thumbs around the mug. It wouldn't do to spill /that/ one. "I see," the girl remarks, nodding at B'kaiv. "Guess it's like protecting yourself?"
B'kaiv says, "/Is/ protecting yourself," and gives her a strange look. "Smartest thing t' do, somebody comes after you, is run. Don't matter if they got a knife, a baton, or just their hands. 'Cause probably they ain't coming for you unless they think they can win. Shells, take me. I got," he considers her, lips pursed thoughtfully, "close on t' a foot on you. Eighty pounds, maybe. What are you gonna do, /really/, t' stop me carting you off?"
Niora considers the man's words for a long moment. "I don't think I could have done anything," she admits, "except what I did. But it just doesn't seem fair. All the hard work we did, day in and day out, and then someone comes in waving a long knife at us and saying we have to leave, it's just ..." she frowns a moment or two, and then shrugs at his question. "I ... I dunno. Could scream loud maybe? At least for a while right?" But physically, what can the girl do... she's at a loss for words.
Rather than leap on her Kai remains placidly seated, swigging now and again from his klah. "Ain't fair, no," he agrees with a didn't-happen-to-me shrug. "But what you done were smart. You got outta there. And yeah," he drops her a nod, approving. "Scream's a good place t' start. Ain't gonna /stop/ me, but it'll get others over. There's always four good places t' hit, though." Wordlessly he points them out: nose, center of the torso, a vague wave of his hand to his lap, and his foot. "Man's always gonna expect you t' go for th' fork first, so you hit something else first. Got it?"
Niora's eyes widen, surprise clearly showing as the girl listens to the greenrider's words. "Guess I could keep screaming too," she says, "could probably make a lot of noise. My brothers said I could be pretty loud when I wanted to be." she frowns, eyes following the movements of his hand gestures, noting the places indicated with a bit of a nod. "So don't hit anyone there," cue her pointedly brief glance in the direction of his lower front region, "but maybe like his nose or something?" She's starting understand, a little.
"Don't go for it /first/," he corrects with a shake of his head. "And shells, little thing like you'd have a hard time getting my nose, but th' others...." A crooked half-smile appears and is gone again just a few seconds later. "Foot's always in reach. Unless he got you in th' air, and shells, then you got bigger problems than I can teach you in just a couple minutes."
"I think I get it," Niora nods in sudden understanding. "You still want to hit a person /there/ ... especially a guy, but what you're saying is to throw him off guard and stomp on his foot or something?" she pauses, considering what B'kaiv's just told her. "How about if someone's carrying me? Can I thrash my feet around, and maybe kick him?" On the other hand, the greenrider had said it was beyond a few minutes of teaching, and she might say more, but then she's yawning. "Maybe I better think more about this," she says, lifting a hand to cover her mouth. "And sleep on it too."
Kai finishes his klah and sets it aside, nodding. "Yeah, you got it. Come find me sometime I ain't busy, and I can show you for real." He closes his mouth on whatever he'd add, smile ghosting back in but turned rueful. "Yeah. Shells, guess I got a answer for G'dri after all. --Where you going? Want me t' walk you there?"
Niora interest is most certainly piqued now. "I'll write down the stuff I was trying to remember about my family, and get it to you. Just so you could keep an eye out for them if you're out with your dragon." she pauses, grinning suddenly. "And I wanna learn more about what you're talking about. Definitely gotta meet up with you sometime." She can't help but add a giggle there. "I helped you, didn't I? Make a choice." Well, she's a useful girl after all, one could say. "I'm going back to the resident quarters. Wouldn't mind the company at all, maybe you can tell me more as we walk."
"Nah," says the greenrider, waving off the idea as he pushes, one-armed, up from the chair. "Get it t' T'rev. He's th' Wingleader. Ain't /my/ Wingleader, that's T'kyn, but it's up t' him who gets th' info." He shrugs back into his jacket before carrying the empty mug to the bin designated for such things. "Guess. I'm meeting somebody, so I ain't got time t' chat or nothing." The greenrider isn't terribly verbose as he leads the way through the inner tunnels, though he's polite enough, and sends Niora off with a nod and a, "Night."
Shells. Thought we was done with all'a that. Gotta make sure th' Weyrleader knows. Glad I ain't T'rev.
Nighthearth, Fort Weyr
An irregular archway leads into the alcove that houses Fort Weyr's nighthearth. The cozy little nook is kept stocked at all times with fresh, hot klah, a pot of stew and a basket of baked goods including breads and both savory and sweet filled rolls. Several leather upholstered chairs stand clustered around the hearth itself which has a grate for propping up chilled feet to warm up on cold days. The Weyr's aunties also keep the space well-supplied with a stack of perpetually renewed afghans in interesting color choices, while the headwoman's staff ensures that some of the older towels are always on hand for riders ducking in off of sweeps in bad weather. Otherwise, the nighthearth is undecorated but for the motley collection of mismatched mugs, bowls and spoons that line the mantel for general use.
Obvious exits:
Out
Past dinner on a cold, clear night, T'rev's just back in from a visit to tuck in his trader-born daughter down in Boll and swings into the nighthearth to find the klah pot and the hearth, warm up a bit. Booted feet make distinct echoes on the stone floor and the bronzerider utters a low: "Brrr," as he nears the pot that always stands at the ready here.
Niora's perched on one of the leather chairs, a mug of klah seeming to serve more as a handwarmer than something to actually drink, but she's awake ... mostly ... jotting a few things down on a scrap of paper. Her brow furrows, a scowl appearing briefly on her face. And then, as she leans forwards to write something else down, clumsy fingers let the mug slip, clattering splash that results in a muffled, "Shardit!" from the girl, as she flops half off the couch, and attempts to restore her mishap to a generally neat appearance.
Startling a little, T'rev turns around without having served himself and blinks as he spots Niora and the shattered mug. Drawing near he hunkers down near broken shards of crockery. "Hey you okay? Here, let me get the broken pieces. I've still got my gloves on," the bronzerider offers.
Niora's got butterfingers for sure, the girl scrabbling with those guilty digits at the ground. "I should have been holding it better," she remarks, her expression something of a sheepish pout. "Should have known it would happen." But then there's the bronzerider's offer, and she wiggles upright on the seat again, brushing at her tumbled locks with klah-stained fingers, and leaving wet streaks across her forehead. "Oh, would you?" there's a brief look of relief on her face. "I'd be so grateful." The gilr glances at the paper in her hand, and grimaces. "Well, I'll have to do that all over again. Nobody'll be able to read it."
"No sense in you gettin' cut," T'rev says with a little smile upward and makes a gesture toward his forehead. "Might want t'wipe off your face though and maybe fetch a dustpan or a pail for these broken bits," he adds on. "Something to clean up the floor." He directs another grin at her though. "Happens y'know, people drop things."
Into the nighthearth comes another rider, this one with a liberal dusting of snow on shoulders and a wet-touched helmet swinging from his belt. Kai stops, perplexed, at this unexpected interruption to his evening, and sidesteps twice before offering hesitantly, "You need help, or nothing?"
"What?" the paper flutters to the floor as Niora's hands almost fly back up to her forehead, only to stop at the last minute as she dabs her damp fingers on the hem of her tunic. She drops her head, raising an arm to swipe at her forehead with one sleeve. This process of course, just transfers klah-stains to her clothing, but ... well, that's something washable later. "Thanks for telling me," she says, slipping off the chair, and heading for a corner where a dustpan and a little broom surely are. "I just have to be extra careful, really."
Tumbled locks, of a shade somewhere between dusky brown, and a true black, are worn loose from an uneven part; strands of hair falling past her ears and twining in haphazard tangles to brush her breastbone. Her face is round, a softly defined chin and plump cheekbones are still defined by lingering traces of baby fat, remnants of a childhood not long past. Thin, dark brows are set above slightly slanted eyes; the deep twilight-blue hue clearly her most striking feature. Her nose is unremarkable -- normal as far as noses go -- and her lips are well-defined; a thin upper lip and a plumper lower one -- oft poked out into a faint pout. The rest of her body is curvy enough, as far as feminine charms go, even if her waist isn't nearly as thin as she might like it to be. She's of less than average height, but is far from petite. Her complexion is pale; a sort of wan shade that might indicate the lack of time spent out of doors for long periods of time, or in particularly sunny climates. Her skin is soft, smooth and unmarred by weathering. She appears to be around 16 turns, 2 months, 0 days old.
Whoever clothed this girl might be somewhat lacking in fashion sense -- and that guilty party could easily be Niora herself. Her short-sleeve tunic is worn long, falling to a place just past her hips, and it's a sort of pale mustard shade, a hue that when combined with her complexion makes her look somewhat sallow and washed out. Her skirt is of a slightly darker color, but no less revolting than the tunic. It falls to her ankles, the cut rather full, from beneath which, the tips of her soft leather shoes can be seen. A wide leather belt, from which dangles a small belt pouch and a tiny little knife too small to be called anything more than an eating dagger, is worn over her tunic, buckled into place by a shiny clasp. Atop her shoulder sits the knot of the Weyr she calls home, a simple loop in the weyr's two colors, identifying her as a resident.
Looking up as Kai enters, T'rev gives the greenrider a little nod. "Hey Kai, just a dropped mug as needs some pickin' up," he says of the incident, picking through the puddled klah to get at the sharpest looking bits of broken crockery. "Sure," T'rev says to Niora, sits back on his heel a little while she's fetching the clean-up gear.
"Looks like you got it," the greenrider decides after looking between the two. "I'll get a refill," for whoever was lucky enough to gift their klah to the floor. He steps around the mess, over T'rev's legs, dropping Niora a nod should she glance his way, and ends up at the hearth itself. "Hey T'rev - you hear T'kyn tapped G'dri t' be Weyrlingmaster?"
Nioraemerges from the corner then, dust pan and little broom in hand, these clenched tightly in her fingers, not yet willing to relinquish it to anyone where she might do something like drop it at their feet. Still, dustpans and brooms are light as things go, and the girl crouches brushing at the spreading puddle of klah. The conversation itself is quick to go over her head, but she does glance at B'kaiv long enough to note his nod. She smiles slightly in response, followed by a quick: "Thank you!" being sung out as the greenrider heads for the hearth. "Hope that cup doesn't break though." Knock wood, maybe.
"Yeah, should be okay here," T'rev confirms and continues picking up bits until his palm is full. The shards are poured into the dustpan when Niora brings it over and the bronzerider resumes collecting the few remaining shards. Brown eyes lift and he nods. "Yeah, sure did. Heard tell Jantha was none too happy about it either, but G'dri's a good choice. Real level-headed."
"Dunno as I know your name," Kai adds to the girl, though obviously he knows the other man's. "Kai - B'kaiv," the correction hard on the nickname's heels. "B'kaiv. And Chielyth. You want nothing in your klah?" That's aimed more generally as he pours out two mugs. "How many I getting, any road? Two? Three? --Asked me t' help with th' fighting again," he tells T'rev. "Told him as I'd think on it."
"I'm Niora," the girl supplies her name readily enough at the greenrider's query. "Don't have a nickname or anything." Because Ni ... well, no... definitely not /that/ nickname. "I just need one mug," she states easily enough. "With maybe a little sweetener?" Her fingers brush over the soggy bit of paper. and she crumples it, although it's harder to do when wet. "Really appreciate the help, I do. It's nice meeting you, B'kaiv."
"I'll take one too if you're pourin' Kai, thanks," T'rev tells the greenrider, smiles over at Niora again. "Kai's a friend," the bronzerider relates to Niora. "And one of the people I was going to talk to about keepin' an eye out for your family," he adds, straightening up from his crouch as the last of the crocker is taken care of. "You liked doin' it last time, right? Go for it, I think." This to B'kaiv about helping as he pulls his gloves free of his fingers, tucks them into a pocket and reaches up to start unfastening his jacket.
B'kaiv marks the introduction with a, "Hey," and a nod, fetches another mug for filling. "Keeping a eye out for your family?" he echoes, perplexed, and doctors his mug with something from a hip flask while looking between the two. He lifts one shoulder at T'rev and glances at Niora, but answers genially enough, "You know how I feel about fighting with girls. Still, got t' say I'm probably better'n V'rel at it."
Niora hunkers backwards onto her ankles, and then, wincing faintly, pushes herself upright using the chair as a prop, doing her level best to keep from dropping that dustpan. See, the tip of her tongue is even poking out the side of her mouth, she's concentrating hard enough. "Really?" her gaze turns to T'rev, hope glimmering there, eyes wide. And she takes a sidelong glance at the greenrider too. "Oh shards, " there's a look at that soggy crumpled paper as she drops it on top of the dustpan. "I was writing down what I remembered they looked like, and what they were wearing. Though it was awful dark, and cold, and I was so scared." B'kaiv gets a second look. "I'm a refugee," she explains. "Got separated from my family." A slightly confused look crosses her face then. "What? Who's fighting who with girls?" Huh?
"You're a good fighter and a good teacher," T'rev tells Kai. "Good at teachin' fightin' anyway. And ... can you think of it as teachin' girls to defend themelves?" the wingleader finishes unfastening his jacket and steps over toward B'kaiv probably to relieve him of one of those mugs. "And Niora and her family got kicked out by enforcers n' separated," T'rev tell the greenrider. "Gonna ask Flint riders t'keep an eye out and was thinkin' about askin' you if you'd mind when you're out on sweeps and all."
"--Shells," decides Kai after listening to Niora's story. "Yeah, can keep a eye out, sure. Chielyth likes flying." He does indeed hand the bronzerider one of the mugs and sip from him before dropping the girl - or her dustpan - a nod. "You gonna throw that out, or you keeping it for something?" With a sigh the greenrider drops into one of the chairs, free hand unwinding his scarf. "Yeah, I... shells, I dunno. Oughta know -something- about how t' get outta trouble. Just... they got t' remember t' use it."
A blink, and a lengthy bit of a pause takes a moment or two before Niora glance downwards at the dustpan in hand. "Oh, right." Seems like she was awfully distracted at the turn of conversation. Balancing her other hand beneath it, so the soppy puddle of paper, and crockery shards won't tip and rain down on the floor once again, the girl moves away, headed somewhere she could dump the refuse, and return to flop down onto her recently vacated chair. "Hope you can find them," Niora says then, watching the greenrider a moment. "I just don't know where everyone is." She looks glum for a moment or two, shaking her head. "Kinda wish we could've fought back, but ..." there's a pause as she looks over at Kai. "You teach girls how to fight?"
"Thanks Kai," T'rev says simply, takes that mug and then moves to sit in one of the other chairs near the fire. "Kai's a good fighter," the wingleader explains to Niora. "And he helped with the weyrlings last clutch. All weyrlings learn basic self-defense." He grins over at the greenrider though. "Don't think they will?"
B'kaiv keeps his jacket on but unfastened, as though he doesn't plan on being here long. "Nissa didn't," he tells T'rev dourly, like that should mean something, before turning back to the girl. "--Here." That for the last mug of klah, held out. "Yeah, sorta. I don't fight pretty, like no guard or nothing. Grew up t' a waystation, rough one. But I guess I could show you something. You ain't gonna be able t' take somebody out, mind, unless you get real sharding lucky. But I could show you how t' get away from 'em."
Niora's hands are open, almost inviting to the offered mug of klah, and as soon as the smooth crockery brushes against her palms, she's clasping it tight, drawing it close so as not to spill a drop. "Oh," she nods a little in understanding at the bronzerider's explanation, but the bulk of her attention seems to be on B'kaiv. "Could see where knowing how to get away from someone'd be really useful. I thought when those ..." her expression goes dark for a moment, a scowl on her face, "men came, they were going to grab us. But they just told us all to get out and waved weapons at us. Wonder if things woulda have been different if I'd have known how to fight. Or protect myself anyway." Instead of just running away in the dark, but that last thought goes unsaid.
"Nissa's Nissa," T'rev says, easygoing. "And well ... they had that planned pretty well." He leans back in his seat, crosses his legs stretched out in front of himself and tilts a look over at the other two while the conversation goes on. "if they had weapons, probably best t'just run."
"Yeah," Kai tells Niora, hot on T'rev's heels, "you coulda got real hurt, or somebody killed." Isn't he just a fount of cheer? He tips his attention back to T'rev and shrugs, then wriggles his right arm free from the jacket and shoves up his sweater's sleeve. "This," he says, tapping a pale line on his forearm a good four inches or more long, "is what you get when th' guy you're fighting got a knife. If you're lucky, and he don't put it somewhere you're gonna notice it /more/." Eyebrows lifted at Niora, he waits for a long moment before taking a meaningful swig of klah.
Niora looks chagrined as she stares at that pale scar on the greenrider's arm. "Guess I did then right thing, huh? Running away." Besides, the girl didn't know /how/ to fight, so what could she possibly have done. Her expression looks faintly bleak at that, and she gulps at the klah from the mug in her hands. "I hope my brothers didn't try and fight. Wouldn't want anyone to have gotten hurt." she pauses, nibbling at her lower lip. "So everyone gets trained to fight? Even girls?"
"Yeah, you did," T'rev tells Niora with a firm nod. He's been sipping at his klah carefully, but has a few proper swallows now. "And they do yep. Every weyrling. Boy or girl." He seems about to say something more when he gets a look on his face and pushes to his feet. "Excuse me please, Mecaith says someone's looking for me. Niora, have a good evening. Kai, good luck makin' the decision. See you both around." So saying, the wingleader heads out, taking the mug with him wherever it is he's going.
B'kaiv lets T'rev answer it, only pushing his sleeve back and nodding the bronzerider farewell. After T'rev's gone and his jacket back on he slides an eye back to Niora. "Dunno as I'd call it no /fighting/. Self-defense. Don't like real fighting, with riders, 'cause of th' dragons. But you got t' know how t' take care of yourself, in case somebody comes after you."
"Err, guess that kind of makes sense," Niora nibbles her lower lip again, and then lifts a hand to wiggle her fingers in a farewell of a sorts to the bronzerider. "Thanks for helping me clean up." she says, the mug in her other hand wobbling a little, and she drops her uplifted arm to clamp all eight fingers and two thumbs around the mug. It wouldn't do to spill /that/ one. "I see," the girl remarks, nodding at B'kaiv. "Guess it's like protecting yourself?"
B'kaiv says, "/Is/ protecting yourself," and gives her a strange look. "Smartest thing t' do, somebody comes after you, is run. Don't matter if they got a knife, a baton, or just their hands. 'Cause probably they ain't coming for you unless they think they can win. Shells, take me. I got," he considers her, lips pursed thoughtfully, "close on t' a foot on you. Eighty pounds, maybe. What are you gonna do, /really/, t' stop me carting you off?"
Niora considers the man's words for a long moment. "I don't think I could have done anything," she admits, "except what I did. But it just doesn't seem fair. All the hard work we did, day in and day out, and then someone comes in waving a long knife at us and saying we have to leave, it's just ..." she frowns a moment or two, and then shrugs at his question. "I ... I dunno. Could scream loud maybe? At least for a while right?" But physically, what can the girl do... she's at a loss for words.
Rather than leap on her Kai remains placidly seated, swigging now and again from his klah. "Ain't fair, no," he agrees with a didn't-happen-to-me shrug. "But what you done were smart. You got outta there. And yeah," he drops her a nod, approving. "Scream's a good place t' start. Ain't gonna /stop/ me, but it'll get others over. There's always four good places t' hit, though." Wordlessly he points them out: nose, center of the torso, a vague wave of his hand to his lap, and his foot. "Man's always gonna expect you t' go for th' fork first, so you hit something else first. Got it?"
Niora's eyes widen, surprise clearly showing as the girl listens to the greenrider's words. "Guess I could keep screaming too," she says, "could probably make a lot of noise. My brothers said I could be pretty loud when I wanted to be." she frowns, eyes following the movements of his hand gestures, noting the places indicated with a bit of a nod. "So don't hit anyone there," cue her pointedly brief glance in the direction of his lower front region, "but maybe like his nose or something?" She's starting understand, a little.
"Don't go for it /first/," he corrects with a shake of his head. "And shells, little thing like you'd have a hard time getting my nose, but th' others...." A crooked half-smile appears and is gone again just a few seconds later. "Foot's always in reach. Unless he got you in th' air, and shells, then you got bigger problems than I can teach you in just a couple minutes."
"I think I get it," Niora nods in sudden understanding. "You still want to hit a person /there/ ... especially a guy, but what you're saying is to throw him off guard and stomp on his foot or something?" she pauses, considering what B'kaiv's just told her. "How about if someone's carrying me? Can I thrash my feet around, and maybe kick him?" On the other hand, the greenrider had said it was beyond a few minutes of teaching, and she might say more, but then she's yawning. "Maybe I better think more about this," she says, lifting a hand to cover her mouth. "And sleep on it too."
Kai finishes his klah and sets it aside, nodding. "Yeah, you got it. Come find me sometime I ain't busy, and I can show you for real." He closes his mouth on whatever he'd add, smile ghosting back in but turned rueful. "Yeah. Shells, guess I got a answer for G'dri after all. --Where you going? Want me t' walk you there?"
Niora interest is most certainly piqued now. "I'll write down the stuff I was trying to remember about my family, and get it to you. Just so you could keep an eye out for them if you're out with your dragon." she pauses, grinning suddenly. "And I wanna learn more about what you're talking about. Definitely gotta meet up with you sometime." She can't help but add a giggle there. "I helped you, didn't I? Make a choice." Well, she's a useful girl after all, one could say. "I'm going back to the resident quarters. Wouldn't mind the company at all, maybe you can tell me more as we walk."
"Nah," says the greenrider, waving off the idea as he pushes, one-armed, up from the chair. "Get it t' T'rev. He's th' Wingleader. Ain't /my/ Wingleader, that's T'kyn, but it's up t' him who gets th' info." He shrugs back into his jacket before carrying the empty mug to the bin designated for such things. "Guess. I'm meeting somebody, so I ain't got time t' chat or nothing." The greenrider isn't terribly verbose as he leads the way through the inner tunnels, though he's polite enough, and sends Niora off with a nod and a, "Night."
Shells. Thought we was done with all'a that. Gotta make sure th' Weyrleader knows. Glad I ain't T'rev.