==== September 21st, 2013
==== Zalara, Mayte, A'dan
==== A meeting on the rainy lake shore. Who was Mayte waiting for?

Who Zalara, Mayte, A'dan
What A meeting on the rainy lake shore. Who was Mayte waiting for?
When Midday
Where Igen Weyr


Central Bowl
Cradled, childlike, in an easterly mountainous embrace, the steppes of the central bowl nestle cozily between lake and weyr. The latticework of dusty adobe paths spider out from the southerly Weyr Road, the wagon-ruts of which curve lazily to the northeastern bazaar, the adobe sprawl of the New Weyr reflected in the lake that dominates a large portion of outdoor Igen. A small footpath, just as abused, ambles away from the shores, travelling over rock and hill to the northern dragonet complex and branching itself due west to end at the entrance of the blessedly cool inner caverns. One cracked path, faint with disuse, leads southeast to the crumbling ruins of Igen-that-was. All around, the dizzying heights of the caldera's sharp-sloped sides are pocked here and there with ledges, the weyrs' draconic occupants needing no path to guide their way.
It is Autumn and 54 degrees. It is raining.

Who doesn't like standing in the rain? Post-dinner and pre-evening revelries, the rain is relentless and quiet, obscuring what might otherwise be a spectacular sunset in the grey drizzle. The wind is cool as well, but Mayte is hunched inside her black jacket, trying to stand out of the rain and wind as best as possible - watching for someone, waiting. Harphrumph. She's nibbling on a little wedge of cheese and sipping, slowly but frequently, on a wineskin in her other hand.

Zalara comes out of the living cavern and she's bundled up against the rain. She has on a cloak that's drawn up over her head to block out the rain. She spots someone standing there in the rain eating. She gives Myayte a smile, "Hello, you know it's dry in the cavern."

Narloth drops like a stone from the sky, the bronze twisting and backwinging towards the water, so as not to send sand and rain into the faces of the folk on the beach. He alights on rocks and A'dan slips down, landingly lightly on his toes. His face is weathered and genuine, "Ah. And I thought I'd have the shore to myself. Clear ski—" He pauses, sending a look skyward, "Well met, then." He bows at the waist. He gestures over his shoulder at Narloth, a tower of darkness and glimmering. "Shelter?" Narloth half lifts a wing obliging.

Mayte stares down at the little … cloth-bundle that has approached. "Thanks, I know." Though she doesn't move to the Caverns an inch, "I'm watching for someone." Duuuuh nuh. Duuuuuuuuuh nuh. We'll see who comes along first. And… she didn't think it would be this bronze, at least. He's a lot brighter, and oh lookie, he's his own umbrella. A little grin, "He…llo?" Is A'dan's voice unusual? Perhaps to Mayte, "Well met, sir," she replies. Sip of wine.

Zalara ohs, "All right." She blinks as the big bronze comes down and she salutes politely to the rider, "Good evening Sir. Thank you for sheltering us from the rain with your dragon." Her eyes are wide as she looks over the dragon.

The dragon settles to the sands, shoving small dunes around his flank until he's comfortable and extends a wing over the three people. At Zalara's thanks the massive wedge-shaped head swivels toward her and he looks looks back staring deeply into Zalara's eyes, the dragon's own whorling slowly with sparks of green and yellow amidst the wash of blue. A'dan returns the salute, looking at the women curiously. "What brings you out into… this?"

Yaaay, rain stoppage. Mayte straightens out of her water-resistant slouch, and gives A'dan a smile, "Mayte, Senior Vintner Apprentice," she introduces, because the 'senior' makes all the difference, "I'm waiting for someone," she says, and gives a grin to the dragonhead inspecting the little pile of fabric that speaks, "Yes, sir, thank you…. um…" what's your name again? Isn't this awkward?

Zalara blinks as she sees the dragon's head swing towards her and she looks to the rider, "I just finished dinner sir. I'm Zalara, apprentice smith. It's nice to meet you."

A'dan returns the salutes and courtesies, a formality he appreciates with a sober inclination of his head, "My apologies. I'm A'dan, this," He thumps the bronze's flank, "Is Narloth. He says, 'You're welcome.'" Narloth's head turns to Mayte and looks at her too. The man's eyes glaze for a moment - those familiar with dragonriders recognize a rider communing with his dragon - and the man's brow furrows for the briefest of moments. "Well met, Mayte, Zalara." His accent is similar to that of the Weyrleader and the Weyrwoman, though his vocabulary and bearing shares more in common with the latter.

A smile and a nod to the bronze, and Mayte stands still to be examined. "Well met, Narloth," she tells the bronze directly - the Vintner apprentice has learned through half a Turn at the Weyr: dragons are people too. She eyes A'dan curiously and figures she may as well: "Are you… new here, sir? Have you had a chance to explore about?" Her own accent is sales-person neutral but the grin is the cheekiness of someone who has the wineskin… that she sips from. Zalara gets a little glance too, and a huh, "You too, huh?" If she doesn't watch it, Mayte will start being an old hand around these parts…

Zalara looks towards the dragon, "It's nice to meet you too Narloth." She looks over at Mayte, "Me too what?" She asks curiously.

A'dan cocks his head. "Not new, exactly, no. I've been away for a while." Narloth rumbles a greeting to the two youngsters and settles his head onto his forelegs. Rain pours off of the tips of the claw-tipped spars of his outstretched wing. "I've heard of your shop, Senior Apprentice." He squints at her speculatively, "I've a friend who could use some cheering." He looks at Zalara, awaiting her reply.

Mayte crows in delight, "Oh, Sienna!" And who doesn't know Sienna, "I'm gonna be really honest with you, sir, I don't know if my store is right for what you're looking for… I'd suggest a basket of cheeses, but," and here's the kicker with a sly grin, "The cheeses we sell are Sienna's make." A pensive look, since Mayte is not entirely satisfied with being helpless, "What about a set of decorative baby nappies?" A look to Zalara and Mayte passes off her confusion with, "Well, it has been pretty busy here." Totally understandable, not seeing this young smith - it's not like she drinks, right?

Zalara ahs a little bit and nods, "I have heard of her. I certainly hope that she is doing all right. I don't know what I'd do if I was stuck in bed for months and months."

A'dan grins at Zalara, "Turns and turns of women have proven her condition is temporary. And permanent." A dark shadow falls on his face, not of Narloth's making, and is just as quickly gone, "She's going to be a mother soon."

And being a mother is good, right? No one explained that facet to Mayte: there's no drinking, you're not comfortable in your body, and you can't even fly? Pfffft! "She's strong, she'll be fine." They don't name you Weyrlingmaster for nothing. The apprentice doesn't quite wave a hand dismissively, but Mayte is hopeful, "It'll be soon, ya think?" What Zalara said just bolsters Mayte's argument.

A'dan nods, "Yes, she will be." He winces imagining the Healer who has to keep Sienna contained. "Bedrest itself is probably the worst of it."

This explains why Mayte hasn't seen Sienna out and about recently. She huhs, "I can't imagine trying to make Sienna stay in one spot. I thought she had a cane for that…" Anyways, "Augh, I should be heading back to the store… Um, come by anytime," she tells A'dan and looks up at the great wing over her head, "And thank you for your help, Narloth." One last wink and grin at Zalara, and Mayte is tucking her chin in and heading back out into the damp yucky autumn rain. Le ew.

A'dan inclines his head and wishes the young girl a good evening. He looks down at Zalara and shoos her on after Mayte, "Go on now, it's getting late. It was good to meet you." Narloth stirs and looks at the young girls again. When they're well out of sight, A'dan strips to the waist and does what he came here to do. Exercise. It's chilly and he spends several minutes jumping in place and scissoring his arms across his body to warm up. He looks out toward the, eyes focusing and unfocusing on things unseen and sets off at a brisk jog, welcoming the cold dash of the rain as he leaves Narloth to soak or soar as he wishes.

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