==== February 16th, 2014
==== N'cal, K'ane
==== "[OOC:] See? No arch-nemesis vibe NECESSARY." Wingsecond and bronzerider talk Thread, Arroyo, and Weyr progress at the Star Stones.

Who N'cal, K'ane
What "[OOC:] See? No arch-nemesis vibe NECESSARY." Wingsecond and bronzerider talk Thread, Arroyo, and Weyr progress at the Star Stones.
When Late night. It is the 23rd day of the first month of the first Turn of the 12th Pass.
Where Star Stones, Igen Weyr

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Star Stones
The climb up here on foot is steep, narrow stone steps carved high into the sandstone, and from the top the precipice-drop to the jagged-craggy stones far, far below is treacherous. It's a wide sweep of ledge, a dragonlength and a half jutting out from a rough cliff wall. The wind here is ceaseless, dusty-dry during daytime and biting at night. But for those who brave the climb to this lookout perched high above the Weyr's bowl, the view from these sandy-red rocks is breathtaking. Igen stretches wide-wide-wide around, a vast expanse of deep blue lake and lush green swamp and the myriad rust-rich colours of desert and rock. The real purpose of this spot, though, is highlighted not in its view of what is below but its view of what is above. Three tall rocks stand, one balanced across the tops of the other two, at the focal point of the ledge, perpetually framing one slice of the desert sky beyond.

Another evening, another visit to the Star Stones for a certain Arroyo wingsecond. This time, however, N'cal and Iolarth are here out of their own accord rather than due to assignment. The lean bluerider is propped against one of the stony monoliths, a small notebook being studied in his left hand while a small glowbasket supplies light in his right. Every now and again he glances up, squinting at the Red Star (amongst a few other things) through the Eye Rock before glancing back down at the pages, every once in a while jotting a thing or two upon the parchment. Iolarth is still mildly restless as he sits, scanning the sky as well, tail twitching subtly every now and again. It is not, then, leftover agitation from the day before.

Dhioth's bulk arrives from the skies as a graceful eidolon, a shadowed shade that manifests only long enough to deposit his rider and be off again. K'ane, then, is here for duty: no doubt he's taken this watch for some poor hapless Arroyo junior down with the sniffles. Wouldn't be the first time. The bronzerider is, shock-and-awe, wearing a jacket in deference to the cold, and he has a thermos of something with him. He notes N'cal and ambles over, eyes adjusting to the ambience of the little glow. "Starcharts?" the bronzerider questions, settling down the thermos and casting his eyes out into the dark.

N'cal, currently in the midst of another peek up through the Eye, glances back over his shoulder briefly at the bronzerider and nods. "Yes," he answers, making a quick note before snapping the book shut and turning around fully. "Old habit from my Craft days. Can't say I didn't enjoy figuring how things move about up there, and with this Pass being such…a mess," though his expression indicates he's considering a phrase far more out of character to use, "I've been curious." He flicks a hand up at Iolarth. "I thought he was just edgy from the queen going up, but he's a little Thread fixated, I'm thinking. Something's about to happen." With a gruff sigh, he stows the notebook in his pouch. "Is Dhioth the same? Restless?"

"It is a mess, ain't it." K'ane props himself up nearby, squinting out in the darkness to track the spirals and carefully-plotted figure-eights Dhioth engages in to keep his wings warm and reflexes sharp. "Ah, he's been as antsy as th' others, has he?" the bronzerider rumbles, squinting over to Iolarth then. "He is. Well. Restless may not be th' word. He's just been actin' all kinds of out of sorts. He's normally very aloof, an' recently he's let his guard down a bit. It's been stranger'n just-antsy would be, I reckon. Thread," he agrees with a grim slant to the last word.

To the agreement upon the Pass as a mess, N'cal gives a bit of a grunt and a dry chuckle - mostly out his nose - as he saunters over to lean on his lifemate's solid haunch. "Any time now," the bluerider says of Thread, his first word a drawl of mild impatience. "Well, aside from the odd antics of your lifemate, how does life find you, K'ane?" he questions, a thoughtful look cast upon the bronzerider. "Haven't had a chance to talk to you much, I know."

"Well, glad that it was th' kid who won an' not me," he replies, with a vague head-nod out-the-ways towards where the Hatching caverns stand. "Other than that." He shrugs, a bit, the gesture somewhat seen in the faint light of the stars and N'cal's glow. "It's just life, I s'pose." K'ane knows not to get comfortable, because surely something will change in the next turn or so. His eyes turn onto N'cal instead, thoughtful. "What about you? How are y'finding Arroyo to fit your tastes?"

"Ah, yes, Iolarth told me about the 'one from the South,' when that happened," N'cal says, another light snort accompanying the indirect wording chosen by his lifemate. "Wasn't here for it all, actually, but he was listening in, of course. An interesting turn. But good on the lad." Shrugging in turn, he shifts to pull a flask from his hip as he answers K'ane's last. "Life has never been boring on this wing, to be sure. Learning to expect the unexpected gets taken to a new meaning at Igen Weyr, I must say. But," he takes a sip, smiling, "I've settled in, I think. There's much that's worthwhile, in workings and in people."

"One from th' South." K'ane repeats the phrase, grinning briefly over to the blue. "That's a way t' put it. He uh. Well. He looked like a good kid." His voice is a little cautious there, as if he's trying very very hard to be politically correct, which he is very very bad at being. "I think it's a solid wing. Different from my last couple of assignments, that's for sure," K'ane comments. "It's nice. T' be with people who know what they're doin'." He lifts his thermos in a salute to the wingsecond.

With a grin, N'cal hefts his flask back at the bronzerider. "Not a position I ever thought I'd be in," he remarks dryly, gaze flicking sidelong at his own knot. "This wing… It'd give any wing at Fort a run for its marks now, I'd guarantee it. What were your last assignments?" he questions. An eyebrow ticks upward, and the bluerider's head takes a small tilt. "Igen was the butt of all manner of jokes at Fort. Though I'm sure you know that. Haven't seen anything to warrant it since coming here…though I gather there was truth to it all, at one point."

K'ane scratches his chin. "It's a good one," he agrees again. "Ain't no Inferno, but." His roughshod expression must indicate the joke to be an oldtimer one. "Oh," he dismisses the question, "Wingleader, assistant weyrlingmaster, all-around guard dog." It's true. Ask Sienna. "It ain't th' same since I first arrived, that's for damned sure. W'rin's been great. Ri'enn just let 'em run how they wanted t' run, without any guidance, an' no wonder, but." He shakes his head. "Oldtimers probably had just a little t'do with it, even with th' hullaballoo over th' goldrider… conundrums." His face tightens in a grimace.

Both eyebrows lift somewhat at the short list K'ane ticks off, and he recaps his flask, pushing off of Iolarth's hindquarter as the sky-washed blue decides to shift, having had enough of staring up at the evil red orb hanging in the darkness and turning his back to it with a decisive rustle of wings. "Pity none of the larger Weyrs seem to be able to acknowledge the benefits of having those of you from the past here with us," he comments, "though they'd sharding better, and soon. Pulling their heads out of their arses has always seemed like a monumental undertaking, if you ask me. But we'll see." A hint of bitterness there? Perhaps. Mention of the goldrider "conundrums" has N'cal seriously wracking his brain…but he eventually does remember all he's heard about what happened before his arrival and shakes his head. "Quite rough, all of that. Such things can happen anywhere, but," another shrug, "this does seem to be the epicenter of upheaval, now doesn't it?" Iolarth decides that’s the moment to swing his head around and bump his lifemate lightly, to which N'cal chuckles. "Soon, soon," he mutters, patting the great nose. Someone seems a bit impatient to move on.

K'ane has a definite smirk for N'cal at the statement regarding Oldtimers. "Good t'hear that someone from this time doesn't think we're just a bunch of…" He gestures vaguely. Whatever it is that they are. "Igen's been dicey, it's true. Ground zero." He seems to intuit the conversation between the blue and rider and takes a step back. "I'd better get back t' watching. Nice talkin' with you, wingsecond." He flourishes his thermos in another salute before turning and heading off towards the highest point — the best place to Heimdahl it up.

"Likewise, K'ane," N'cal returns with a sketched salute off his brow before hopping up to scale Iolarth's neck. "Have a good watch. Clear skies." And with that, they're off - nothing more than a gliding shadow dissolving into the dark above the Bazaar as they return home to finally end the day.

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