Going for a walk
It is a spring afternoon, 13:49 of day 2, month 5, turn 23 of Interval 10.
Crack, Fort Weyr
Clearing away enough mud reveals a dank, dark crack in the bowl wall that a person could just squeeze into if he or she dares. The brave are rewarded by finding a dusty and slightly crumbled flight of stairs that leads downward into deeper darkness.
At the bottom of the stairs, with plenty of glowlight or torches a spacious cavern opens up, glittering with minerals in the walls. Shelving is carved along one whole wall and some benches. The sound of running water can be heard through a carved and linteled opening on the far side of the cavern. Were these once bathing caverns that were buried?
Obvious exits:
Mudslide
The stretch of not-raining continues, as does the stretch of B'kaiv's arm back up the steps to help Isandre down. The squeeze through the crack wasn't meant for men with shoulders like his, and he's going to have to make a stop in at both the laundry and hot springs when this is done. "Can't see th' bottom from here," he reports, a glow held high in one hand. "--Or wait, that th' shininess down there? Can't tell."
It's amazing the number of people in this Weyr who have the capacity to convince Isandre to not only get near dirt - but to get dirty, as well. One hand resting in B'kaiv's, the healer manages the descent from bowl to stairs with a minimum of awkwardness - prior practice, it seems, makes perfect. Once she's at the greenrider's side, she tilts her head up to study him, then follows the direction of his gaze, peering into the darkness. "If I recall correctly," she muses, "that'd be th' reflection off th' minerals in th' stone. Canna tell if it be more stairs, or th' floor."
"Huh," is Kai's opinion of this concept, and continues down the way until he's safely on the floor. The glow bobs as he crouches and runs fingers across the glimmer, revealing how he rubs them together after. "Ain't wet. --Well, ain't /that/ wet. Can just see some of th' weyrlings getting down here and getting stuck," he adds wrly and straightens.
"Hmm," Isandre replies as she follows in his footsteps - nearly literally, taking care to step where he steps on the crumbling stairway. "I imagine th' rain can make this very slick indeed - but from what M'try an' I could tell, wherever the water source once was, it's blocked up now." She glances around - not that there's much to see in the inky darkness that extends in all directions - then back up towards the stairs, gauging the crack. "Yeah... wonder that they shouldn't find some way t' cover the crack when they ain't down here figurin' this place out."
"It's awful far for th' babies," he says absently, and looks around at what he can see of the walls. "They're still too young t' go real far any road. Some of 'em probably ain't even wanting t' get out of th' other's sight yet." Kai glances back to ensure Isandre has her feet, then jerks his head and strikes off along the right hand wall. "How far'd you get, before?"
Not only does Isandre have her feet, but both hands as well. Her head, however, may be in doubt - as she is, after all, surrounded by dirt. That seems the last of her concerns, however, as she follows after B'kaiv, reaching out to run one hand over the wall thoughtfully as they pass. "We pretty much followed th' wall t' the far end," and she points helpfully into the darkness, "where we found th' opening where th' sound of water comes from. Didn't really look too much at th' whole thing. Only had a few glows, an' M'try kept stopping and staring up tryin' ta see th' ceiling."
"Come back th' same way, or go all th' way around?" Kai glances back at her, then up at the shadow-shrouded ceiling. "Ain't nothing t' be afraid of down here, any road. Worst as is like t' happen is another collapse, and if we survive that," so cheerful, "Chielyth knows right where we are and can get help."
"Yer a comfort t' me, B'kaiv," Isandre replies dryly as she sends him a long, level stare - then abruptly smiles, shaking her head. "I wouldn't mind seein' the whole thing - be interestin' t' see if it's all like this," and she gestures towards the wall, smooth and glittering, "or if there's aught else in here. But," she adds, "I'll be lead by you. So. Lead on, fearless one."
B'kaiv sends a quirked smile turned positively disturbing by the uncertain light over his shoulder before stopping to let Isandre catch up. He falls into step again, keeping himself between her and the scary middle. "If it ain't fallen by now, probably ain't gonna. Shells, they ain't got no idea how long that mudslide's been here. The records has all fallen t' bits." A few steps further on, "Wonder what they're gonna do with it, once it's all cleaned. S'awful far from anything else."
"Not sure," Isandre muses, fingers sliding thoughtfully over the wall as she glances sidelong at the greenrider. "B'tween this, an' that room with th' glass ceiling, an' - apparently - a broom closet, might make a nice secondary lower caverns system. Nice an' close to the lake an' gardens, a good place for people with their weyrs on this side o' the bowl. An' who knows what other kinds o' rooms they'll find as th' mudslide is pushed back." She grins suddenly. "Could turn it int' a nice infirmary complex. Place for th' invalids t' be bathed - nice study room for th' healers..." She's teasing. Surely.
B'kaiv shrugs and stops a moment to pick up a bit of rock. "If th' lake's going t' stick around," he points out, "and Faranth only knows what's gonna happen t' th' garden. Looked pretty sharding well gone t' me, last time I looked. Besides, for them as has weyrs on this side, it ain't much of a flight t' get t' th' /real/ caverns. Just a couple minutes is all."
"Convienence." Halting as well, Isandre takes advantage of his preoccupation with the rock to peer past his back into the scary middle, straining to see anything. And - nothing. She has not, in fact, suddenly developed infrared vision. "Yes - th' plot that Hattie gave me for m' flowers is all ruined," she sighs. "Ain't gonna have a chance t' plant 'em this year. But. Anyhow. Who knows? I ain't gonna pretend t' know the minds of people like Circe or T'kyn." She sniffs faintly at the air - dust and water - then adds, "I 'magine they'll find some good use for it, though."
"Probably," the greenrider agrees, offering his rock - it glints - for her inspection. "My luck he'll set Obsidian t' doing all th' cleaning on top of all th' drilling we do."
Reaching out, Isandre plucks up the rock, rolling it over in her fingers as she studies it in the glow-light. "Shiny," she approves, offering it back to him. "I have lots of cleanin' supplies I could lend ye," she offers helpfully. "Since ain't so many people trampin' mud through my infirmary, they're all lonely and such."
Shiny or not, the greenrider gives it only another cursory glance before pitching it toward the center of the room. It plinks and plunks, the sound caught and echoed, before coming to a stop. "That's supposed t' be a joke," he observes flatly, shooting Isandre an equally flat look before heading off along with wall without even a 'let's go'. "Ain't funny though."
Watching the rock until it disappears into the shadows, Isandre might miss the look, but she can't mistake his tone, and winces visibly. "Shells, B'kaiv, I'm sorry," she says softly, trailing along several steps behind him, fingers once more running along the wall. "I was jus' teasin'. I wouldna want ye t' get stuck with such duty, 'specially with all ye've already got t' do." Drawing her lips closed in a thin line, she ducks her head and goes silent, simply following in his wake.
B'kaiv only takes a few steps before stopping again, all his breath running out in a hasty sigh. "It ain't," he starts, shakes his head and turns to offer her half of a crooked smile. "I'm just being... shells. Shouldn't'a snapped. I just - there ain't no reason for us t' drill this much, and there ain't no way T'kyn's gonna listen t' nobody, 'specially not no greenrider. I been saying I'm gonna give it t' summer before I ask t' transfer, but I can't see no reason not t' ask C'ston about Jasper now."
Reaching out hesitantly, Isandre comes fairly close to placing a comforting hand on his arm before she drops her hand away again, rubbing it along the seam of her pants. "Nah, don't worry about it," she replies, with a bolstering smile. "I know ye ain't happy, an' I know ye're under a bit of stress with all th' Weyrleader's makin' ye do. I shouldna have teased ye about it. Sometimes my sense of humor don't know what's appropriate." Sure. Blame it on the funny bone. "Would ye be happy in another wing?" she asks curiously.
B'kaiv neither bumps the offering away nor shifts to lure it closer, leaving the space between them unpopulated. "Sure," he answers easily before shrugging again. "'Least, I think so. I dunno how much you know of th' wings here? C'ston leads Jasper. They're a real good tight-flying wing. Chielyth'd love it. They do all that real fancy flying."
"I know very little o' the day t' day dragonrider things," Isandre replies instantly, shrugging. "Ain't no dragonrider, so I never really thought t' learn much 'bout the wings. Didn't realize they do different things?" That last is phrased as a semi-question, curious sea-green eyes flickering up to his face before sliding away again, towards the wall she's still rubbing her fingers over, idly now, rather than nervously.
"I could tell you, if you want," he offers diffidently. "But Obsidian - that's th' wing I fly with - we've had... shells. Four Wingleaders since I started flying with 'em, and they ain't my first wing. So there's been lots of change and things, and I dunno as there's nobody as knows what's going on."
"Not sure as it matters," Isandre replies, shrugging a shoulder as she continues to rub fitfully at the wall, eyes flickering ahead now, into the darkness. "I mean," she adds hastily, "not t' say it ain't interesting. Just don't wanna make ye talk about summut as don't interest /ye/ that much." Falling silent but for a faint hiss, she shakes her head and offers him her mute attention.
Kai grimaces and looks off into the darkness as well. "Figured as you'd want t' know more about th' Weyr," he returns, as diffident as she. After a moment, though, he looks back and snorts, jerks his head and starts off again. "There's eight wings, plus th' Queen's wing and the' weyrlings." He names them all, along with their 'leaders, before adding, "Could give you th' 'seconds, but I dunno how many names you want t' hear just now."
Right now, Isandre's cursing her inept tongue - so much for that whole plan not to make anyone uncomfortable around her again. "No-o," she replies slowly. "I think th' wingleaders'll do," she adds, following behind him with her hand on the wall and her head down, staring intently at the ground in front of her - watching for pitfalls he might just walk right over. "So, ah - which wings do what?"
B'kaiv goes over Agate and Carnelian, "--Th' Weyrlingmaster flew with Carnelian a bit," and their duties before moving on to Flint. "That's T'rev's. When I flew with 'em they did a sharding lot more drilling than they do now. These days they're down t' three days of drilling a seven. There's some I heard of at other Weyrs as only do one day or less."
"What do riders do during an interval?" Isandre wonders softly. "I mean, y' got yer drills, some more'n others," she adds, "but if some o' the wings only drill part time, what d' ye all do when yer not drilling?" Probably not the best question to ask this particular rider - and she realizes that only too late, biting off another curse and grimmacing down at the ground.
The greenrider eyes her for a moment, his jaw working, before sniffing. "Depends on th' Wingleader. There's sweeps - that's checking for all sorts of things, from lost people t' lost animals t' lost Healers. We got t' keep our gear in shape too. Jasper's got this poker game they run, sorta."
"Ye'll tease me about that 'til the day I die, won't ye?" Isandre asks, sniffing back in return. "Well, glad are th' people, animals, an' Healers who ye find on sweep, I'm certain." She doesn't sound that grateful at the moment - nor, to be fair, does she sound terribly piqued by the taunt. "Uhm." Stumped for anything more to say, she slips past him, hand extended before her as she narrows her eyes into the darkness. "I think we're gettin' close t' the far wall. See th' glitter in th' glow?"
"Somebody's got t' keep you in line," he returns blandly. "I see it." He's got other wings to tell her about first: Jasper and their precision flying, "You ought t' see if you can watch 'em sometime," Malachite, the only wing led by a greenrider, and T'rien's Sandstone. "Only wing I wouldn't want t' fly with is Hematite. They ain't got no idea what they're doing." His steps slow as they approach the glint, and an arm stretches out to touch the rock. "--Huh."
"An' I s'ppose yer just the one t' do it," Isandre replies tartly - though she doesn't appear to disagree as she runs her fingers over this new wall, gesturing with a hand for him to hold the glow out and over, so they can see down the length of it. "Th' other passage was some aught in th' middle, that way," and she jerks her chin appropriately. Then, "Huh, what?" her eyes flicker back to where his hand touches rock, curious enough to adjust her own touch in that direction.
B'kaiv shoots her a sidelong look - and is that, maybe, a bit of a smile? Perhaps. "Dunno, just huh. Khameth's got all these rocks. Makes me wonder what he'd think about these."
Meeting that sidelong look steadily, Isandre visibly relaxes at that faint hint of smile - or what might just be a smile, in any case. Pulling her hand back from the wall, she tilts her head up, watching where it extends into darkness. "Who's Khameth - pretty name that," she adds thoughtfully. "Dragon, I assume. Didn't know dragons collected anythin'."
"Weyrlingmaster's blue," the greenrider answers easily. "Yeah, he does. Collects all these rocks, and he's got a story t' go along with 'em. Chielyth loves listening t' him, when she ain't been able t' coax him flying." He looks... rueful? for a moment before snorting again and jerking his head toward Isandre's empty passage. "C'mon."
"Ah. I ain't met th' new Weyrlingmaster yet," Isandre muses. "Met Jantha, afore she got bumped t' dragonhealer full-time. S'ppose he has his hands full these days, wi' the new babies." Trailing along behind the greenrider, she tilts her head, studying the wall. "Did y' mayhap want t' get that one rock ye found back, t' gie t' him?" she offers thoughtfully.
B'kaiv is going to say no - it's practically written there, on his face - when instead he says, "Yes," and promptly frowns. "--Yeah," he repeats after a second, still confused, before doing the head-jerk of 'this way' and heading toward the last-heard sound of the rock. "Now as you know there ain't no giant tunnelsnakes down here, maybe we can come back some time."
Confusion runs rampent, for his rapid change of mind and expression causes Isandre a momentary hesitation herself, brow furrowing briefly. However, though uncertain of what just happened, she follows him obediently, watching the ground carefully to ensure she stays relatively close to his path. "I'd like that. Mayhap bring some more glows, start setting them out. It'd take a ton t' light this place t' the hilt, but a few extra baskets would at least help a bit."
B'kaiv keeps his glow held high, the better to light the path my dear. "Ain't no point in wasting glows when there ain't nobody t' see 'em," he answers, glancing over his shoulder before slowing again to let her catch up. "But maybe next time we can bring a couple extras." Here's the rock - or /a/ rock - and he scoops it up, casually stuffing it into a pocket.
"I didna mean t' leave. But could at least set 'em down as we explore, t' light the area," Isandre replies, one shoulder shrugging. "Just a thought - I'd like t' see what this place looks like. But," she adds wryly, "there's a lot of things I'd like I ain't never gonna get, so - the disappointment won't kill me." As he snags the rock, she smiles, then jerks her chin towards the distant crack. "I've a feelin' that that rumbling I'm hearing ain't no cave-in - could use a bite t' eat?" Again, a semi-inquisitive note ends her statement.
Least I know I ain't gonna lose that bet. Don't think there ain't no way she can't tease.
Crack, Fort Weyr
Clearing away enough mud reveals a dank, dark crack in the bowl wall that a person could just squeeze into if he or she dares. The brave are rewarded by finding a dusty and slightly crumbled flight of stairs that leads downward into deeper darkness.
At the bottom of the stairs, with plenty of glowlight or torches a spacious cavern opens up, glittering with minerals in the walls. Shelving is carved along one whole wall and some benches. The sound of running water can be heard through a carved and linteled opening on the far side of the cavern. Were these once bathing caverns that were buried?
Obvious exits:
Mudslide
The stretch of not-raining continues, as does the stretch of B'kaiv's arm back up the steps to help Isandre down. The squeeze through the crack wasn't meant for men with shoulders like his, and he's going to have to make a stop in at both the laundry and hot springs when this is done. "Can't see th' bottom from here," he reports, a glow held high in one hand. "--Or wait, that th' shininess down there? Can't tell."
It's amazing the number of people in this Weyr who have the capacity to convince Isandre to not only get near dirt - but to get dirty, as well. One hand resting in B'kaiv's, the healer manages the descent from bowl to stairs with a minimum of awkwardness - prior practice, it seems, makes perfect. Once she's at the greenrider's side, she tilts her head up to study him, then follows the direction of his gaze, peering into the darkness. "If I recall correctly," she muses, "that'd be th' reflection off th' minerals in th' stone. Canna tell if it be more stairs, or th' floor."
"Huh," is Kai's opinion of this concept, and continues down the way until he's safely on the floor. The glow bobs as he crouches and runs fingers across the glimmer, revealing how he rubs them together after. "Ain't wet. --Well, ain't /that/ wet. Can just see some of th' weyrlings getting down here and getting stuck," he adds wrly and straightens.
"Hmm," Isandre replies as she follows in his footsteps - nearly literally, taking care to step where he steps on the crumbling stairway. "I imagine th' rain can make this very slick indeed - but from what M'try an' I could tell, wherever the water source once was, it's blocked up now." She glances around - not that there's much to see in the inky darkness that extends in all directions - then back up towards the stairs, gauging the crack. "Yeah... wonder that they shouldn't find some way t' cover the crack when they ain't down here figurin' this place out."
"It's awful far for th' babies," he says absently, and looks around at what he can see of the walls. "They're still too young t' go real far any road. Some of 'em probably ain't even wanting t' get out of th' other's sight yet." Kai glances back to ensure Isandre has her feet, then jerks his head and strikes off along the right hand wall. "How far'd you get, before?"
Not only does Isandre have her feet, but both hands as well. Her head, however, may be in doubt - as she is, after all, surrounded by dirt. That seems the last of her concerns, however, as she follows after B'kaiv, reaching out to run one hand over the wall thoughtfully as they pass. "We pretty much followed th' wall t' the far end," and she points helpfully into the darkness, "where we found th' opening where th' sound of water comes from. Didn't really look too much at th' whole thing. Only had a few glows, an' M'try kept stopping and staring up tryin' ta see th' ceiling."
"Come back th' same way, or go all th' way around?" Kai glances back at her, then up at the shadow-shrouded ceiling. "Ain't nothing t' be afraid of down here, any road. Worst as is like t' happen is another collapse, and if we survive that," so cheerful, "Chielyth knows right where we are and can get help."
"Yer a comfort t' me, B'kaiv," Isandre replies dryly as she sends him a long, level stare - then abruptly smiles, shaking her head. "I wouldn't mind seein' the whole thing - be interestin' t' see if it's all like this," and she gestures towards the wall, smooth and glittering, "or if there's aught else in here. But," she adds, "I'll be lead by you. So. Lead on, fearless one."
B'kaiv sends a quirked smile turned positively disturbing by the uncertain light over his shoulder before stopping to let Isandre catch up. He falls into step again, keeping himself between her and the scary middle. "If it ain't fallen by now, probably ain't gonna. Shells, they ain't got no idea how long that mudslide's been here. The records has all fallen t' bits." A few steps further on, "Wonder what they're gonna do with it, once it's all cleaned. S'awful far from anything else."
"Not sure," Isandre muses, fingers sliding thoughtfully over the wall as she glances sidelong at the greenrider. "B'tween this, an' that room with th' glass ceiling, an' - apparently - a broom closet, might make a nice secondary lower caverns system. Nice an' close to the lake an' gardens, a good place for people with their weyrs on this side o' the bowl. An' who knows what other kinds o' rooms they'll find as th' mudslide is pushed back." She grins suddenly. "Could turn it int' a nice infirmary complex. Place for th' invalids t' be bathed - nice study room for th' healers..." She's teasing. Surely.
B'kaiv shrugs and stops a moment to pick up a bit of rock. "If th' lake's going t' stick around," he points out, "and Faranth only knows what's gonna happen t' th' garden. Looked pretty sharding well gone t' me, last time I looked. Besides, for them as has weyrs on this side, it ain't much of a flight t' get t' th' /real/ caverns. Just a couple minutes is all."
"Convienence." Halting as well, Isandre takes advantage of his preoccupation with the rock to peer past his back into the scary middle, straining to see anything. And - nothing. She has not, in fact, suddenly developed infrared vision. "Yes - th' plot that Hattie gave me for m' flowers is all ruined," she sighs. "Ain't gonna have a chance t' plant 'em this year. But. Anyhow. Who knows? I ain't gonna pretend t' know the minds of people like Circe or T'kyn." She sniffs faintly at the air - dust and water - then adds, "I 'magine they'll find some good use for it, though."
"Probably," the greenrider agrees, offering his rock - it glints - for her inspection. "My luck he'll set Obsidian t' doing all th' cleaning on top of all th' drilling we do."
Reaching out, Isandre plucks up the rock, rolling it over in her fingers as she studies it in the glow-light. "Shiny," she approves, offering it back to him. "I have lots of cleanin' supplies I could lend ye," she offers helpfully. "Since ain't so many people trampin' mud through my infirmary, they're all lonely and such."
Shiny or not, the greenrider gives it only another cursory glance before pitching it toward the center of the room. It plinks and plunks, the sound caught and echoed, before coming to a stop. "That's supposed t' be a joke," he observes flatly, shooting Isandre an equally flat look before heading off along with wall without even a 'let's go'. "Ain't funny though."
Watching the rock until it disappears into the shadows, Isandre might miss the look, but she can't mistake his tone, and winces visibly. "Shells, B'kaiv, I'm sorry," she says softly, trailing along several steps behind him, fingers once more running along the wall. "I was jus' teasin'. I wouldna want ye t' get stuck with such duty, 'specially with all ye've already got t' do." Drawing her lips closed in a thin line, she ducks her head and goes silent, simply following in his wake.
B'kaiv only takes a few steps before stopping again, all his breath running out in a hasty sigh. "It ain't," he starts, shakes his head and turns to offer her half of a crooked smile. "I'm just being... shells. Shouldn't'a snapped. I just - there ain't no reason for us t' drill this much, and there ain't no way T'kyn's gonna listen t' nobody, 'specially not no greenrider. I been saying I'm gonna give it t' summer before I ask t' transfer, but I can't see no reason not t' ask C'ston about Jasper now."
Reaching out hesitantly, Isandre comes fairly close to placing a comforting hand on his arm before she drops her hand away again, rubbing it along the seam of her pants. "Nah, don't worry about it," she replies, with a bolstering smile. "I know ye ain't happy, an' I know ye're under a bit of stress with all th' Weyrleader's makin' ye do. I shouldna have teased ye about it. Sometimes my sense of humor don't know what's appropriate." Sure. Blame it on the funny bone. "Would ye be happy in another wing?" she asks curiously.
B'kaiv neither bumps the offering away nor shifts to lure it closer, leaving the space between them unpopulated. "Sure," he answers easily before shrugging again. "'Least, I think so. I dunno how much you know of th' wings here? C'ston leads Jasper. They're a real good tight-flying wing. Chielyth'd love it. They do all that real fancy flying."
"I know very little o' the day t' day dragonrider things," Isandre replies instantly, shrugging. "Ain't no dragonrider, so I never really thought t' learn much 'bout the wings. Didn't realize they do different things?" That last is phrased as a semi-question, curious sea-green eyes flickering up to his face before sliding away again, towards the wall she's still rubbing her fingers over, idly now, rather than nervously.
"I could tell you, if you want," he offers diffidently. "But Obsidian - that's th' wing I fly with - we've had... shells. Four Wingleaders since I started flying with 'em, and they ain't my first wing. So there's been lots of change and things, and I dunno as there's nobody as knows what's going on."
"Not sure as it matters," Isandre replies, shrugging a shoulder as she continues to rub fitfully at the wall, eyes flickering ahead now, into the darkness. "I mean," she adds hastily, "not t' say it ain't interesting. Just don't wanna make ye talk about summut as don't interest /ye/ that much." Falling silent but for a faint hiss, she shakes her head and offers him her mute attention.
Kai grimaces and looks off into the darkness as well. "Figured as you'd want t' know more about th' Weyr," he returns, as diffident as she. After a moment, though, he looks back and snorts, jerks his head and starts off again. "There's eight wings, plus th' Queen's wing and the' weyrlings." He names them all, along with their 'leaders, before adding, "Could give you th' 'seconds, but I dunno how many names you want t' hear just now."
Right now, Isandre's cursing her inept tongue - so much for that whole plan not to make anyone uncomfortable around her again. "No-o," she replies slowly. "I think th' wingleaders'll do," she adds, following behind him with her hand on the wall and her head down, staring intently at the ground in front of her - watching for pitfalls he might just walk right over. "So, ah - which wings do what?"
B'kaiv goes over Agate and Carnelian, "--Th' Weyrlingmaster flew with Carnelian a bit," and their duties before moving on to Flint. "That's T'rev's. When I flew with 'em they did a sharding lot more drilling than they do now. These days they're down t' three days of drilling a seven. There's some I heard of at other Weyrs as only do one day or less."
"What do riders do during an interval?" Isandre wonders softly. "I mean, y' got yer drills, some more'n others," she adds, "but if some o' the wings only drill part time, what d' ye all do when yer not drilling?" Probably not the best question to ask this particular rider - and she realizes that only too late, biting off another curse and grimmacing down at the ground.
The greenrider eyes her for a moment, his jaw working, before sniffing. "Depends on th' Wingleader. There's sweeps - that's checking for all sorts of things, from lost people t' lost animals t' lost Healers. We got t' keep our gear in shape too. Jasper's got this poker game they run, sorta."
"Ye'll tease me about that 'til the day I die, won't ye?" Isandre asks, sniffing back in return. "Well, glad are th' people, animals, an' Healers who ye find on sweep, I'm certain." She doesn't sound that grateful at the moment - nor, to be fair, does she sound terribly piqued by the taunt. "Uhm." Stumped for anything more to say, she slips past him, hand extended before her as she narrows her eyes into the darkness. "I think we're gettin' close t' the far wall. See th' glitter in th' glow?"
"Somebody's got t' keep you in line," he returns blandly. "I see it." He's got other wings to tell her about first: Jasper and their precision flying, "You ought t' see if you can watch 'em sometime," Malachite, the only wing led by a greenrider, and T'rien's Sandstone. "Only wing I wouldn't want t' fly with is Hematite. They ain't got no idea what they're doing." His steps slow as they approach the glint, and an arm stretches out to touch the rock. "--Huh."
"An' I s'ppose yer just the one t' do it," Isandre replies tartly - though she doesn't appear to disagree as she runs her fingers over this new wall, gesturing with a hand for him to hold the glow out and over, so they can see down the length of it. "Th' other passage was some aught in th' middle, that way," and she jerks her chin appropriately. Then, "Huh, what?" her eyes flicker back to where his hand touches rock, curious enough to adjust her own touch in that direction.
B'kaiv shoots her a sidelong look - and is that, maybe, a bit of a smile? Perhaps. "Dunno, just huh. Khameth's got all these rocks. Makes me wonder what he'd think about these."
Meeting that sidelong look steadily, Isandre visibly relaxes at that faint hint of smile - or what might just be a smile, in any case. Pulling her hand back from the wall, she tilts her head up, watching where it extends into darkness. "Who's Khameth - pretty name that," she adds thoughtfully. "Dragon, I assume. Didn't know dragons collected anythin'."
"Weyrlingmaster's blue," the greenrider answers easily. "Yeah, he does. Collects all these rocks, and he's got a story t' go along with 'em. Chielyth loves listening t' him, when she ain't been able t' coax him flying." He looks... rueful? for a moment before snorting again and jerking his head toward Isandre's empty passage. "C'mon."
"Ah. I ain't met th' new Weyrlingmaster yet," Isandre muses. "Met Jantha, afore she got bumped t' dragonhealer full-time. S'ppose he has his hands full these days, wi' the new babies." Trailing along behind the greenrider, she tilts her head, studying the wall. "Did y' mayhap want t' get that one rock ye found back, t' gie t' him?" she offers thoughtfully.
B'kaiv is going to say no - it's practically written there, on his face - when instead he says, "Yes," and promptly frowns. "--Yeah," he repeats after a second, still confused, before doing the head-jerk of 'this way' and heading toward the last-heard sound of the rock. "Now as you know there ain't no giant tunnelsnakes down here, maybe we can come back some time."
Confusion runs rampent, for his rapid change of mind and expression causes Isandre a momentary hesitation herself, brow furrowing briefly. However, though uncertain of what just happened, she follows him obediently, watching the ground carefully to ensure she stays relatively close to his path. "I'd like that. Mayhap bring some more glows, start setting them out. It'd take a ton t' light this place t' the hilt, but a few extra baskets would at least help a bit."
B'kaiv keeps his glow held high, the better to light the path my dear. "Ain't no point in wasting glows when there ain't nobody t' see 'em," he answers, glancing over his shoulder before slowing again to let her catch up. "But maybe next time we can bring a couple extras." Here's the rock - or /a/ rock - and he scoops it up, casually stuffing it into a pocket.
"I didna mean t' leave. But could at least set 'em down as we explore, t' light the area," Isandre replies, one shoulder shrugging. "Just a thought - I'd like t' see what this place looks like. But," she adds wryly, "there's a lot of things I'd like I ain't never gonna get, so - the disappointment won't kill me." As he snags the rock, she smiles, then jerks her chin towards the distant crack. "I've a feelin' that that rumbling I'm hearing ain't no cave-in - could use a bite t' eat?" Again, a semi-inquisitive note ends her statement.
Least I know I ain't gonna lose that bet. Don't think there ain't no way she can't tease.