====January 3rd. 2014
====Cerise, E'sren
====Cerise and Jiamoth are trying to distract each other from discomfort; E'sren helps? (jk it was totally the whiskey)

Ground Weyrs
Neatly ordered are a series of ground-weyrs, each generic and functional rather than ornate. The caverns are unevenly staggered in a variety of sizes: some so small as to be a snug fit for the smallest of nowtimer greens, while others are roomy enough to fit two oldtimer queens. Each ground-weyr is fitted with a reed-strewn couch and a cozy nook with a bed and clothespress.

Jia isn't the smallest of Nowtime greens- she's rather large for even a green of mixed heritage, in fact- but need shifts the reservation of these weyrs and for a long-time occupant as she's slated to be, it's one of the smaller weyrs for her. This leads to spending as little time as possible inside but that's just as well- the evening is clear and cool (for a jungle) and the skies are pretty. It's these the dragon is trying to focus on, her head turned up, her eyes on the stars, while Cerise leans hard against the thickly laid muscles of her right rear flank. Massaging a dragon rather looks more like pummeling a dragon to the distant observer, and after a while the greenrider gives it up for a lost cause, sliding down to sit with knees drawn up and shoulder tucked against her ladyship's plush ribs. "…can't," she might be heard to say, "the healers're keeping close tabs on the stuff, aye?"

Like a star, but like one that might be going through some kind of supernova phase, Ahruth streaks into view from higher up and aims for a landing in the bowl further out from the ground weyrs, but with a tilt to him that suggests he's heading that way eventually. And head he does, padding alongside his rider as the pair of them come for a nighttime visit, E'sren removing his helmet. They just came from sweeps maybe, then, since he's in full gear otherwise, too. Dragon eyes had spotted Jiamoth higher up so they know who's there, not needing whatever dull light from the moons and glows. "Hey, sorry to barge in on you like this." He might have heard her; hard to say. Ahruth croons a low, soft greeting for the green, meanwhile, ducking his head in a bow of sorts. Ladyship, indeed.

There's a dragon difficult to miss. It doesn't take long before Ahruth's in sight for Jia to switch focus, from stars to blue. She might be lacking in exactly one foot, but her instincts remain- surely there is some discomfort, or she wouldn't tuck her right limb in against her chest in so obscuring a fashion, but that's hidden away in order to offer up a delicate greeting. A tilt of the head, a rolling trill of voice. If one can overlook the cup of leather and lambswool affixed to her stump, she looks normal: a young, robust green greeting a visitor in warm fashion. Cerise is a liiiittle more squinty about this whole greeting thing, giving E'sren the side-eye before she deigns to clamber up to her feet, dusting her hands off on her already dusty seat. "Are you really sorry to barge in on us like this or is that something you said you'd say if you caught us off guard?" Bluntness, thy name is this rider right here.

Damages or no, Ahruth is just as calmly attentive to Jiamoth, ever the gentleman. They don't know each other well enough for a nose bump, so he'll just take a spot comfortably near to her without blocking her view of the moons, and keep the connection open in case she'd like to talk, but it's safe to assume he's also okay with not. "Well who am I saying I'd say that to?" E'sren gives her a lifted eyebrows and skeptical mouth kind of face; totally playing with her. "You got me. I've been waiting to get you at your most unready. All the better for learning all of your secrets." He's unbuttoning his flight jacket with one hand so he can vent a little through his collar, his helmet tucked under his arm. "Ahruth saw her. I thought I'd come see if you were here too. How are you?"

Conversation is offered, if only because Jiamoth simply cannot resist, whether it's a good idea or not. The lilt of music that accompanies her voice is timed to the throbbing that winds up her leg from the missing wrist and paw, and there's a darker cast to whirling silks and satins, but that's more annoyance than hindrance. « It is a wonder you can see anything, you go by so quickly. Everything would be just a blur to me, » she teases in lieu of more traditional greeting. « Or did you recognize me for the pale green lump on silver stone? » Cerise is not so easy with the jests but then, it's likely that same ache that has her jaw set tense, rather than the bluerider's appearance. She wrinkles her nose at him for his teasing, but gestures him in all the same. Welcome to her humble little patch of rock. "You'd get a warmer reception if you brought wine. Or fellis," she points out to him. "That's not exactly a secret though. We're all right. They have her learning how to walk again now that the Weyrsmith's made her up a guard for the stump. It's saved her split hide a few times now."

It's not entirely alien to Ahruth, that ghosting of pain through Jiamoth's thoughts. The pain itself isn't foreign, he's sadly been around plenty of dragons in pain of late. His mind is pleasant if a little devoid of the imagery some other dragons like to use. He is a wash of color, pale purple and cream for her, like a new sunrise over desert sand. « It is hard sometimes, » he jokes. Being so fast, trying to see stuff. His voice is soft and matter of fact. It isn't that he's always right; it's that he's always sure. « You're no lump, Jiamoth. Trust me. But your color is unique. I saw you, pale like the moons. » To which he looks now, then inclines his head for her again. « I'd take it from you if I could. Like the queens. » "I should have brought wine," E'sren is saying, regretfully. "That would have been smart." He turns away from her to his dragon, with a 'beg your pardon' if he interrupts them, to root around in one of Ahruth's saddlebags, as it were. He produces a bottle; not a wine bottle, but a bottle. "What about really old, good whiskey." He takes a moment to allow a look at Jiamoth's device, or at least at the area if she's still hiding it. "That's a really good idea."

« You do have good eyes. » There's amusement laced through the compliment, and a silent acceptance of what he has to say about Jiamoth. She never did believe in the concept of false modesty. His looking away leads her to lower her head in a bid to catch his gaze again- eyes here, sir. « If you could take it, I would not let you have it. It is mine and mine alone, and far better than the alternative. But gallant of you to say, even so. I do like gallant. What were you doing above when you spotted me? » That E'sren can produce any bottle at all seems to raise his estimation in Cerise's eyes. She perks up, at least, and ambles in closer. "I'll take a nip, aye." Her hand is flapped, rather more imperious than is polite. But the ex-performer is smiling now, skewed though it is. "Isn't it? Didn't even have to commission it, either."

She can have his eye, both even, Ahruth is glad to oblige. « Fair enough. » Some things he was born knowing to say; some things are entirely his rider's. « We were coming back from sweeps over the cotholds. I like to come back and circle around, once or twice. I like to see it, from up there, this place. » Not 'home'. Not for them. « You? Have you been out long? » E'sren has already opened the bottle, bringing the mouth of it close to his nose so he can get a whiff. The way his eyes squint up is maybe a good sign? "My uncle gave me this. Last week. I forgot about it until now." He hands it over for her, surprised by that. "Really? They gave it to you? That's really nice. Like… really nice. Does she like it or is it too weird still?"

Jiamoth curves her neck, just so, to give herself an air of interest and curiosity. « This place, » she echoes. It's a prompt that Ahruth can ignore if he chooses; she gives him that leeway by moving on to answer the question. « An hour, maybe a little longer. The healers kept us late, to fit the thing. » That being the technical term? But though she'll mention it, Jiamoth won't bring it out to show it off. She goes so far as to wedge the limb in question a little further under her chest, no matter the resulting twinge. And apparently wincing is good? Cerise doesn't seem turned off, reaching for the bottle once E'sren has had his sniff. "You've an uncle who just throws bottles of whiskey at you? That's a stroke of luck, sure enough." She's nodding along agreeably enough to talk of nice- but then the question comes, and both her fingers and a muscle in her jaw twitch. "…like it? Bit of an odd way to look at it, aye? Yesterday, she came out of her couch and forgot the foot was gone again, spent the day in agonies for coming down hard on the bone. She-" Oops, there's Jiamoth's head snapped 'round, her rider given a look that finally shuts her up until she's willing to grind out, "Sorry."

« Mm. Yes. The Weyr. » Even if Ahruth weren't the quiet, perceptive type he'd get what she's getting at. « We're trying, » is all he can think of to say. « The thing? » And that's right about when Cerise begins describing Yesterday, and the blue's head whips around with Jiamoth's, though for very different reasons, and E'sren must mentally relay something because he relaxes. Delicately, "I'm sorry." Right when she says hers. Doubly awkward. "I meant… I meant the… not her…" Not helping. He stops himself with a grimace and aims that down at the ground so she doesn't have to see, his fingers dug into his hair. It only takes him a moment to recover, to lift his head. "I'm the wrong person to be talking to you. I'm sorry. I feel like such an asshole."

« You are trying, » Jiamoth agrees, as delicate in tone and touch as Ahruth's rider. « And it is appreciated. I apologize. She does poorly with pain and…other things. » Less excuse than simple explanation; the green extends her neck to nudge beaky muzzle against blue neck to punctuate the apology. Sorries all around! "I knew what you mean," Cerise says, "and I took it wrong a'purpose. I've no patience lately, which is wrong of me. Everyone's been so kind." But the way she says the word, 'kind', makes it sound as if the sentiment is enough to make her want to scream, or get her teeth sunk into it so she can shake. She settles instead for shoving her hands deep into her pockets- a regular linen shirt and trousers of dull brown have replaced the weyrling uniform- and looking off into the mid-distance. "If anyone's the asshole here, it's me, and I'll say it plain. To answer your question, she thinks it's delightful. The craftmanship is fine."

Because he's still checking in on the whole E'sren situation, Ahruth is a tiny bit startled when he gets that little nudge, but he's quick to smoothe it out. « Oh I'm sorry. » It's an epidemic! « Yes, well. Who does well with pain? It isn't good. I wasn't hurt, when we fought it. I don't know why. Sometimes I wish I had been, to make it fair. …I think a lot. » Which is a source of frustration for a creature who has so many thoughts, and such a hard time remembering them. His rider reaches over to take the bottle if she's not going to take another drink, so he can do so, because right now he needs it. "Well," after, "I get it. I mean I don't. At all. But I'm trying?" Like rider, like dragon. "Everyone's… all over you. Even if they're not trying to be. They are. It's shitty."

Jiamoth swans her neck back, regarding the blue quietly for a time before twisting her voice into a ripple of amusement. « What is fair? Nothing is fair. You would not wish it, if it had happened. If it were you, or your chosen. Then you would wonder what you might have done differently to avoid it, yes? » The voice of experience, perhaps, for all that she softened the blow with that sense of light amusement. Cerise makes no protest to the loss of the bottle, either. She's still busily looking at nothing. "Aye, and what sort've person gets tetchy because folk are trying to help? If she can put a good face on it, I should be able to as well. And I will." Just perhaps not at this exact moment. "Thank you, anyway. For wanting to stop in and say hello. It does her good."

« Yes, that too. » The amusement isn't lost on Ahruth, and there's warmth in his voice to match. And then, in an abrupt twist, « I could tell you a story if you'd like. And you could do the pictures. » Or can she? He assumes all other dragons can. And while Cerise is looking at nothing, E'sren's looking at her, trying to figure it all out. When she thanks him of all things he lifts his eyebrows, pretty clearly not expecting that, making an 'o' out of his mouth before he speaks. "Yeah. Of course. You're welcome. I mean really, I should be thanking you too. I know we don't know each other but… I don't have a ton of friends here. I mean I look like I know a lot of people but… and I talk to them, I mean, but… you know." Or she doesn't. Either way he's drinking again.

« I do enjoy stories. » However, before Ahruth can begin his, Jiamoth holds up the mental equivalent of a finger to his lips. Wait. « Do you prefer words to pictures? If so, I am happy just to listen. I will do the pictures if you enjoy them. » And perhaps Cerise is as well, since she maintains some brief measure of silence…until she finds herself compelled to reach out and steal the whiskey back from the bluerider. "Ah," she says with sudden cheer, "so that's it then. My dragon loses a foot, you figure we can't run away from you wanting to make friends, aye? A cunning plan." The shift in mood is dazzling, it's so sudden- but then, she did used to be a stage player. "S'fine. Though there's likely to be sweeter and prettier prospects for friendship outside of the infirmaries, y'know."

« I— » Oh. There is at first a very distinct question mark but Ahruth catches on quickly. « I… I like them, » is meekly admitted, she might as well just asked a shy child if he likes sweets. « But we can see what happens, » he's quick to add, and this is his preface before he begins to tell her about the mouse who helped the big feline who had a thorn in his paw, all the while articulating some words with his own paws in the physical, sometimes acting out what's happening, sometimes just making different voices for the characters, but always elaborating with words. "Was I that obvious?" E'sren replies in kind, surrendering the bottle willingly after a wince for that most recent swallow. Old whiskey is good; harsh, but good. He smiles at her, his eyes squinting, head tilted; he's quiet for a beat, something going on inside his head then, "Yeah, maybe. But here I am."

If Ahruth can confess to liking the images, then Jiamoth has no choice but to indulge him! And she will do so happily, crafting shards of color and light into a moving spectacle to match each turn and twist in the tale. It's a fair trade, allowing the green to remain still and quiet for the duration, resting the limb she's trying so hard to keep from sight. As for Cerise, she has no winces for the whiskey, just a sort of keen interest in suffering the burn after raising it for a large pull from the bottle. A breath is released slowly afterwards, the bottle swung back towards the bluerider. "No harm in it, aye? The intent was kind enough. Taking an interest. I shouldn't give you a hard time. You or any of the others who've troubled themselves to make time for us here, aye? Faranth knows the hours in our days…in wingriders' days have shrunk with Thread come back early."

And naturally Ahruth delights in what she comes up with, collaborating the story sometimes based on the visuals, making the feline have the spots she suggests and the sunset is exactly as she makes it. It is indeed what it seems like— a passtime, a way to distract her, but not just her, even for just a little while. And when that story is done, he has another for her, this one about how exactly that feline got his spots. He grins, reaches over for the bottle. But the topic shifts to Thread again, inevitably, and he sobers just like before, a ghost of a smile lingering as he, too, takes a drink. After swiping the back of his hand across his mouth he replies, "It would've happened eventually. We were only a few months out. At least now we know. We aren't just waiting with some countdown counting down the days." It takes him a long moment to ask, "Are you scared?"

If ever there was a dragon made for enjoying distractions, it is Jiamoth. She's content to lose herself in Ahruth's spinnings- and leave Cerise to her own devices, which may not be a blessing given how the greenrider's mouth seems inclined to run off with her, lately. "Fucking Starcraft still needs to get proper charts out," she opines. Maybe they have! But then, how would she know? A face is pulled with the bluerider's question and she shows no shyness in stealing the whiskey back once he's had his taste. "Scared," she scoffs before taking a swig- and then another. Now she's wincing, and suffering watery eyes as well. "I'm pissed off, y'better believe it. You think your training'll be enough, that sure going into it you'll be scared, but at least you'll come back whole if you come back at all. I had things to do, places to go, ranks to move up…I was gonna prove 'em all wrong about greenriders, aye? Show 'em what we could do. And what do I do instead? Get us grounded for the next turn."

Yes, let the dragons play while their riders have a nice little chat. There's a good dragon. And while Jiamoth and Ahruth sit at the kids' table, E'sren is relinquishing the bottle again for his own good, because she needs it. He's quiet during that, because this is what he said he'd do: listen. Even if some of what she says he'd like to disagree with he doesn't interrupt, he doesn't say anything until she's done, and he gives her a steady look while he thinks of something to say. Eventually he decides she didn't put this much thought into it, why should he? "Well I think that's bullshit. It isn't your fault she got hurt. You don't need to prove shit to anyone." A few shots of whiskey in a row will do the job. "And another thing, nobody comes back whole. Not from that. I can't burn that shit out of my head. I've tried. I get that you're pissed, I get why, but don't you let what happened make you think you can't still do all that. In a year when you're back you're gonna kick all our asses. You're already kicking mine."

"I call bullshit on your call of bullshit," Cerise intones solemnly, as if she were reciting a verdict in a court of law. Of course, that she follows the verdict with another slug of whiskey ruins the effect somewhat. The bottle is swung back towards E'sren after- no hard feelings- and then she's slumping back against Jiamoth again, earning a brief but distinctly distracted glance from the dragon before the green returns to happier things. Stories! "But you're a man on a fighting dragon who might one day hold rank of his own, without all of the marks against him that I possess. It's easy for you to see things through rose petals, aye?" The tone she uses isn't unfriendly. A little tired, perhaps, but mostly jocular, mostly the cadence of someone keeping it light. Her grin punctuates that impression. "You can't help it and I won't hold it against you."

"Oh really," E'sren throws back, grinning, ready for that bottle and another drink. His hand is curled around the neck of it but he uses a few of its fingers to gesture at her. "You think that I'm going places? You think some bluerider who just transferred in is gonna start climbing the ladder? Fat chance of that, sweetheart. The only way I get to the top is if someone dies and there's nobody else to replace him. I tried back home. I'll give you a guess about how that turned out. So you can shove those rose petals where the sun don't shine." Since they're being so friendly and all, and his grin definitely does more than suggest that he's really just kidding. More thoughtful, "I'd bet you make it before I do. I'd bet you'd get there."

"If you want to, why not? We've had a wing led by a pair on blue here before," Cerise points out, gesturing…towards the sky? Because it's blue during the day? The whiskey must be working its wiles on her brain, if she thinks that's sufficient example to shore up her argument. "So it could happen if you wanted it to. Back home isn't Southern. But even this place hasn't ever tossed a wing at a woman on green…wingsecond of Catmint is the highest we've gone. And I lost that one for us, aye?" She won't be outmaneuvered in this argument, thank you very much. ""I'd be lucky if they let me teach the new weyrlings, once they come, how to muck a couch."

She makes him laugh there, under his breath, with the corners of his eyes crinkling from that grin. It has to be her unwillingness to be argued down. "Okay, okay. I give up. But only because I feel like you really would kick my ass if I kept fighting you about it." His held-up finger is stern; only because! "And you wouldn't be lucky. It'd be because they know how skilled you are at mucking couches. You could do that, you know. Teach the weyrlings. Why not? Greenriders can do that. You're worth more than a few cheap shots at yourself, you know that right?"

"Bucko, you're making me feel like I'm six feet tall with muscles to match." And coming from a young woman, that is not a good thing, Cerise's tone implies. What was that he said about cheap shots at herself? She pushes herself away from Jiamoth's side- swaying a bit but not unsteady on her feet- and swings her arms wide. She defies stern finger pointing. Defies it. "You…are too fucking optimistic. And I have t'pee." Yes, she did just say that, a remark that finally wins back Jiamoth's attention- if only so the green can be horrified at how uncouth Cerise is being. There must be some sort of scolding happening because the rider makes a grumbly, discontented sound as she wheels off to find a convenient privy, leaving Jia to trill soft apology to the lingering blue pair.

"What, you don't want that?" Six feet, muscles, all that stuff? He laughs when she sways, reaching over to offer a hand if necessary, in case she's going all the way over. Luckily she's not so far gone, but he keeps on the lookout anyway, just in case. More laughter. "Ha! Thank you? I don't know if that's a good thing, when you say it. And yeah, I have to go… be not here. Also." And since Jiamoth goes with her rider, Ahruth takes that cue to wrap up as well, his turn to bump at her with a gentle snout. « Thank you, Jiamoth, » is all he says for farewell, rather than 'goodbye'. His rider returns to his side, capping off the bottle and stuffing it back in, waving the greenrider off with his other hand. "I'll see you later," he calls, slightly muffled, and it can be assumed that they just head home to their cave, way up there.