==== October 20, 2013
==== Aife, Donatien
==== A chance meeting on the beach between Aife and Dien.

Beach
An eerie mirror, the glass-quiet Sea of Azov: the clear waters stretch along the dark-pebbled shores, and along this narrow beach. Here the faintest lap of waves belies the calm beyond; here the rocks have been ground down into finest, softest sand - those observant would mark upon the similarity between it and the sands of the hatching grounds. The soft sand soaks up summer sunlight as a sponge; painfully hot during the warmer months, it is only truly pleasant at wintertime. Rocks rise to east and west, lichen-limned and green against the abyssal darkness of stone.

This evening, it’s peaceful and quiet on the beach. Aife is here, sitting on a fallen log and looking out over the ocean. The wind ruffles through her wild hair as she clutches her pale yellow bag close to her, the lip of a bottle and hides sticking up from the opening of it on her lap.

This evening sees Donatien slowly making his way, in shorter pants and tight green shirt, down the beach, easing each step. He's got a square basket in hand and inside, something clinks. A familiar head catches Dien's eye so the Weaver starts to make his way over, looking cheerful enough for this time of day. "Hello there!" he says, "Working at the beach?" Terrible habit. "Same," he says, holding up the basket, which clinks again.

Hearing the sounds and the shuffle of feet, when Donatien comes over, Aife gives him a little wave. Her return greeting: “If by working, you mean ‘drinking’. Hey.” She gives him one of her dimpled grins and once he’s close enough, then she’ll nod towards his basket. “Same idea?” she asks then. “I thought you’d be sitting in your room somewhere, letting weight off that leg a bit. Healer’s orders, unless you’re expecting me to find ways to tie you down.” There’s just a hint of suggestion there, and of innuendo before gesturing that basket over for closer inspection.

Donatien chuckles because it seems that tonight, Dien and Aife are of similar minds. He hands the basket over for perusal and comments, "Just some beers, cheeses, and crackers." The beers are carefully packed at the bottom because they're large bottles and would otherwise crush the foodstuffs. As to his knee, he shrugs with a boyish grin, "I figured the Healer wouldn't mind my walking along the beach. It's too nice to stay inside and besides, I bring beer. And cheese." And if that combination isn't irresistible enough, Dien laughs openly at the suggestion, "Just as long as I can get out of it afterwards," he replies.

“At least you brought food,” Aife notes as she takes the basket and immediately rummages through it for the beer. “I thought I’d come out here since I rarely get the chance to lately. Feel the sand, smell the air, see the sights….gives me a good reminder of where I’mnot at.” She takes the beer out and sets her bag to her side before snorting at his response to being on his feet. She eyes his legs pointedly before saying, “Hm. Says the man that could very well stumble over a rock out here only to end up having to crawl back to the Weyr in the end. I just might consider that tying up scenario, and I can tie a mean knot. Do you always take your meals and drink out here?” Surely he wasn’t expecting company out here, right?

Donatien shrugs as if to say, what were the chances, and smiles, "On that note, do you mind if I sit down? Share cheese, break crackers?" Healer's orders and all that. "I'm very sure my apprentices would start wondering if I failed to show for work the next day." As for why he's out here, Dien moves to take a seat anyways (however much is left) and shakes his head, "I had no idea anyone would be out this way - I thought they'd still be inside, avoiding the heat." Lessened or no. A quiet voice asks Dien's next question, "A reminder of where you're not? Where would that be?"

Aife answers that first with a wave of her hand towards the log she sits on as she scoots over to make room for him. “How many apprentices do you have?” she asks, settling the basket on her lap as she opens up the beer over it. “Still working on getting used to this heat,” she comments to his words on avoiding the heat out here on the beach, taking the first drink of his beer before passing it over to him. His quiet question draws a sober little smirk from her before she answers with, “Benden, for one. Born and raised, doll. The Healer Hall, for another.” Beat. “You never talk much about Boll,” she notes, bringing up his origins previously. “You’ve been around, obviously.”

Donatien chuckles, "It depends, over all. I've got one personal apprentice, Arnaut, and another one coming in soon, and then a host of junior apprentices who do a lot of the sewing and tanning…" and there's a moment of gritted annoyance, "When they're not fighting in this weather." That's cause for a sigh before accepting his beer with a grin, muttering, "Wench," in fond tones and takes a long swig. Nodding, he continues, "Ah yes, you mentioned Benden. But not much of it," and Dien looks over at Aife as if to make the point, "I have been posted in many places - Fort Weyr, Bitra, Telgar… Around." A little shrug, "But I like it here. My knees hurt less, I'm warmer…" The beer bottle waves gently in Aife's direction, "Lovely company." Who says no to that?

“They fight because of the weather?” Aife is chuckling before adding, “The way with apprentices. I’ve done my share of it, when I was one.” She hears the muttered comment with a gentle elbow to his arm, and then, “What do you want to know about Benden?” she is quick to return to his point, a brow lifting at him. It seems like she’s an open book. Taking the beer then, “Some would say Boll is just as warm,” she drawls, “But you’re right. Boll doesn’t have me.” Yeah, even if he didn’t outright name her, she’s bold enough to name herself. She takes out a cracker before stating, “It is nice here, I’ll admit. Mainly, I’m here to take care of family and better my craft. Still…warm climes, lots of free booze, good company…” and she nods towards the cobbler before taking a long drink.

Donatien shakes his head. Apprentices: can't live with them, can't drop them off a dragon until they learn better. He chuckles at the elbowing and shakes his head, "I've only been there a few times. Never posted there," and that's not disappointment in his tone, it's a shade of relief. He grins in thought before looking over at Aife, "Family… your brother, Th'seus? Seems like a good sort." He reaches into the basket for some cheese on a cracker and takes a healthy bite of it, "It seems to me that the food is better too." And while he doesn't heartily nod at Aife's inclusion of herself, Dien watches her for a moment with a heavy-lidded look.

“It’s a good place for wine, at least,” Aife says of Benden, wry. “So how long are you posted here, or is Southern more permanent for you?” She doesn’t eat much – a bit of crackers and cheese, but she’s more interested in the beer he’s brought. She inclines her head in confirming who her brother is, saying, “This is certainly his own world, and I’m just trying to fit in. I agree on the food, definitely.” That permits a dimpled smile from her, noting his heavy gaze with a lingering smile of her own before she states, “What? I’ve got something on my face?” and makes a show of wiping at her mouth and cheeks before taking another drink and passing it over.

Donatien grins and will give Benden that point, "I do have some of their wines in my room, for… appropriate occasions." Ahem. Dien chuckles and says, "I have largely left it open with my Crafthall, but I don't think they're too eager to move me at the moment. No one else is too ready to come down here, so I'm happy to stay." A little snort, "Well, come the Pass, your skills will be in high demand as well." Despite the less pleasant topic he brings, Dien is happy to come back to lighter topics, "Well, there's your nose," he jokes, eyes twinkling at the awful joke, but slowly reaches a hand up, "There's just a bit of something…" Despite the gentle touch of his hand just under her jaw, Dien's thumb swipes over one dimple, "And then…" The thumb moves over to wipe at the other dimple, Dien smiling slightly - it would be cheeky if his expression were any lighter.

“Appropriate occasions.” Aife’s echoing that one with a look. She nods on the Hall, saying a simple, “Same here, though I’d like to think it’s more to do with them not going back there than anything else. Hard to believe, but there’s those up north that think me a troublemaker.” She shakes her head to that, looking as if she could be no troublemaker to a fly, much less the Hall. “The Pass, though….yeah. The infirmary’s going to need all the healers they can get.” It’s a more somber subject, indeed, but the erstwhile healer doesn’t look to be minding it. Her focus shifts though to Dien’s touch – his words – under her jaw and then the dimples at her cheeks. Her chin dips just a bit, the beer settling down on her lap as her jaw probably can be felt moving as she says back quietly, “Uh-huh. Did you get it all, or is there somewhere else?” It’s almost playful, even, in the only way 20-something woman can be.

Donatien mms and eyes a little closer, changing his hand position so he can slowly trail one finger down Aife's cheek, "I think I may have gotten it all now…" Was there serious talk earlier? Dien never heard it, "There, that's it." If this were Earth, Dien would have a cheesy joke on hand about angels on Earth but instead he pulls his finger away and shows the result - an eyelash. The rest of the touch? Well, let's just say Dien's expression has changed a little. Who knew the temperature could rise at this time of night? Then he grins.

Aife chuckles low, her cheek perhaps leaning a bit more into Dien’s touch before she says, “You’re a polite man that doesn’t take liberties.” An observation, perhaps, one that seems to amuse the erstwhile healer. Eyes drop to that fallen eyelash before meeting his gaze once more with a quirk of her full lips. “Well now, and here I thought you were looking for any excuse to touch me,” she teases openly. “Or, maybe that was your excuse. Do you want more to drink?” The beer, though she’s not necessarily holding it out in indication of it. The temperature certainly hasn’t dropped, and if there’s the faintest blush that can be seen on her, then well, that could be the lighting or the weather.

Donatien chuckles lowly, "A man who takes liberties soon doesn't get any." Liberties, that is. Or the other thing, but that goes without saying. He watches her blush and shrugs lightly, "Perhaps the eyelash was the excuse," he says, smoothly. The question of more beer causes Dien to pull back a little, looking down at the bottle, "How much is there left?" He looks back up and raises an eyebrow, "Or there's another bottle… How long were you thinking to be out here?"

“Nice quote, Cobbler,” Aife quips, briefly lifting the beer towards him. “Excuses, excuses. Does this work for all the women?” she gives in a light tease, but she doesn’t linger on it. Instead she checks the amount in the bottle before giving it over and answering her with, “Not much longer?” Does she mean the beer or her stay out on the beach? “How much longer are you out? Do you want me to bring your basket back with you?” To his room, presumably.

Donatien grins and presses his lips together, miming a locked box. A kid's move that's echoed in the boyish laughter in his eyes, but Dien will open his mouth to drink the last of that bottle, while casting one eye to setting Rukbat. "Ahh…" of satisfaction, "I would be heading back soon. Do you think," he asks, with amusement, "I'm so feeble I can't carry back what I brought with me?" A hand over his heart, "You wound me and my ego." You know, the one that rocks could bounce off, sooner or later, "Unless the basket is an excuse?" he asks lightly, but the underlying meaning is there and as Dien packs away the empty bottle, he's totally not checking out the view from this angle. Okay, maybe just a little, but that has to end soon enough as he straightens.

Aife watches him with a raised brow going his way – especially for his question. “I think,” she is careful in saying slowly, laughing, “that I’ll leave you to figure out for yourself whether that basket is just an excuse or not.” She does lean back in a stretch and extends her arm over with the basket handle for him to take. “It wasn’t my intent to wound you and your ego, though.” Once he takes over the basket and the bottle, “I should be heading back soon myself. My bottle is already bone dry,” and she reaches over to jiggle her own pale bag. She gets to her feet then, looking back over her shoulder at Donatien before adding, “I suppose the same could be said of women taking liberties, too.”

A briefest moment of pause and Donatien grins, "It takes a lot to wound my ego," he says, accepting basket and bottle, "And never without intent." As Aife rises, Dien hefts himself to his feet, and mms, "It's rare, but I have heard words bandied about here that would besmirch a reputation," the thought of which gets a downward tug of Dien's mouth. Basket in hand, the Weaver waves Aife on, "Go on ahead. It's going to take me longer than your long legs to get back to the Weyr," Dien says, "I'll enjoy my stroll." Each slow, unhurried step, so they'll arrive separately. The basket-excuse or no, swings a little as he moves along the shore.

“Same for mine,” Aife speaks on egos, grinning his way. And then there’s talk of reputations, those of which the healer has to give a bit of a nod along with a wry, “Mm. Maybe you’ll have to share those bandied words my way sometime. I don’t get to hear much about the folks here, working in the infirmary.” Beat. Dien waves her ahead though and she does hesitate before she nods again and hoists her bag strap over one shoulder before she starts the long walk back with an easy, “Very well. Enjoy your evening, Dien.” Then she, too, is meandering along the shore.