==== September 27th, 2013
==== Kultir, Safra
==== An unintended encounter in the Living Caverns. Nothing to see here. Move along.

Who Kultir, Safra
What An unintended encounter in the Living Caverns. Nothing to see here. Move along.
When Night
Where Southern Weyr

Safra Kultir


Living Caverns
Grand and spacious, the cavern curves high aloft in naturally-vaulted ceiling that soothes any sense of claustrophiba. Rich woods line the cavern floor, varnished and stained a rich mahogany, while round tables scatter about candlelit and intimate. The largest table lies southerly next the sideboard, long trestles that seem oriented to providing for the weyr's youngest. The rich blue of Azov can be seen from a distance in good weather, when the heavy stone doors covering the entrance are allowed to stand open.

Kultir is half-sprawled in a chair at a table in the nearly deserted caverns. He has a plate of food in front of him but he's more pushing it around rather than eating. He does look like he's freshly washed and dressed in clean lounging pants and tunic with soft boots on his feet. His head rests on his hand, propped on the table as he stares at his plate.

Safra's head pops up over the ledge that drops into the Azov. She sits there momentarily, watching the caverns, eyes flitting warily, unaware of the quietly brooding Kultir. She pulls herself up, sliding quietly along the floor. Creeeeeeeping until she's flat on the ground. Satisfied that she's alone she pushes up and pops onto the balls of her feet. She takes another look around and stands, nonchalant, walking towards the exit to the Bowl. She freezes when she sees Kultir. "Hi! Kultir! What're- how're you?" she asks a little too bright and brittle.

Kultir jerks upright when the blue weyrling rider pounces at him. "Oh! Hey, Safra." he says with a sleepy smile at the girl. "I be pretty good …. tired, but good." He shoves his food around a little more but doesn't take a bite, instead opting for a sip of klah. "How're ye doin' then?"

"I'm not doing-" She stops, blinking at the Candidate. Did he notice… No…? She jerkily moves to the sidetable and grabbing things at random while keeping her eyes on Kultir, "Uh, I mean, er… I'm fine." She looks around, eyes darting back and forth for any other surprises. She cocks her head, taking him in, "Working you hard, eh?"

Kultir pushes himself upright as he notices something … not right … about Safra. He frowns slightly as he concentrates through the fog of weariness. "Yeah, bu' na s' bad, jes a very long day." he says. He sighs softly and waves toward the chair near him. "Si' down?" He drains most of his klah, trying to get the stimulent into him so he can wake up enough to figure out what is the matter with the girl. "S'matter?" That's his sleepy talk for 'What's the matter?' if she was wondering.

Nods and sits with Kultir. That's what she was doing anyway, right? Right? She looks down at her plate, brow creasing momentarily. She's assembled a meal of caprine cheese danish, a napkin holder, meatroll, spicy fishrolls, sugar cubes and stewed greens. She pales a little, she's going to have to make it through this meal to avoid suspicio- Crap. She cocks her head, "Matter? With me?" she stalls, swirling a fork in the greens. She stuff a wad of it in her mouth. Can't talk, mouth full.

Kultir's eyes fall down to Safra's plate and smirks as he looks back up to her face. He chuckles softly and shakes his head at the …. assortment … of food on the plate … along with the napkin holder. "Ye mi' wanna be careful of ye'r teeth on tha' though." he says, pointing his fork at the napkin holder. He cocks his head at the girl and gives her a stern look. "S' wassa matter?"

Can't talk, mouth's full. Safra shoves another mouthful of stewed greens and - oh, lovely - a sugarcube into her face. She chews, grimacing slightly, and looks all innocent. "Nuf'een," she says from behind a hand covering her mouth. "How's Kal-er-Kapia. How's Kapia?" She blinks. Oops. Sorry.

Kultir just blinks at the girl and then frowns. He sighs and shakes his head at her. "S'far's I know, she be fine." he says, starting to actually eat the food he's been playing with for the past several minutes. He has no idea why she thinks he'd know how Kapia was … He hasn't seen her since earlier in the day. He watches her shove greens and sugarcubes in her mouth and smacks his fork down on the table. "Shardit! Would ye knock it off an' tell me what's chewin' ye'r tail, Safra?" He's too tired to really be tactful about finding out what's bothering the girl. If he's learned one thing, it's that sometimes it's best to just snap at someone to get them to do what they should do.

Safra pokes at the food, nose scrunching. "I'm not good at sneaky." She leans back in her chair, still making an effort to eat the food - it's food, she won't waste it, though she does fish the less… appropriate bits out as she takes her time answering Kultir. "Ez'iah was complaining that women or drudges should be seeing to the care of his clothing." She shrugs, "So I obliged him." She gestures off towards the drop off into the Azov.

Kultir just stares at Safra for a moment or two and blinks. He glances toward the ledge that overlooks the sea and then turns back to the girl, frowning as he tries to figure out just what she's talking about. "Wait …. his clothes?" he asks, slowly putting one and one together. He cocks a finger from Safra to the ledge and back again. "Ye … Ez'iah's clothes? Over the … ledge?" Does she mean what he thinks she means? "You didn't …" He finally chuckles softly, his voice falling into a slightly breathless and secret whisper.

Safra eyebrows shoot up, "No! No-no-no-no! Not into the sea!" She looks affronted. "I wouldn't destroy anything like that!" Too much respect for the work. She tosses her head towards the ledge, "There's a hollow under the lip." She shrugs, eyes lighting with the shared secret. "Don't tell anyone."

Kultir snorts and almost loses the klah he'd just sipped up through his nose. His eyes sparkle at the girl and he just can't keep the laughter in. "Oh ye'r the utter limit, Saf." he says, rocking in his chair as he keeps laughing. "Oh … come on! Ye cain't drop som'um in me lap like tha' and 'spect me na t' tell nobody!"

She cocks her head, a thought occuring to her. "Can't I? Candidate." She purses her lips and squints, tasting the feel of rattling a sabre at Kultir and rather disliking it. She winces, "Who'm I kidding?" She shrugs and sighs, cutting up more of her watchwher's breakfast. "Don't you get any ideas," she points a fork at Kultir, "That bronzerider is my wingmate."

Safra's first words wash over Kultir like a drench of icy water, killing the sleepy, giddy laughter and making the boy sober immediately. He sits up straight and is suddenly no longer hungry … just tired. He sighs as he shoves himself to his feet and gives the weyrling a salute. "M' 'pologies, ma'am." he says softly. "I na be thinkin' o' doin' nothin' t' ye'r wingmate's gear, ma'am." The Candidate's shoulders slump slightly as he gives the girl a polite nod good night and trudges out of the caverns to make his way back to the Barracks.

Safra's face falls as her jibe elicits an unexpected reaction from Kultir. She watches him retreat with her mouth open, blinking. "I wasn't serious." She adds 'feigning authority' right under 'sneaky' on the list of things she's not good at. She stabs at the horrible meal she's assembled for herself and sets to finishing it as the young man disappears off to the Barracks.

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