==== January 26th 2014
==== Cerise, Th'seus
==== Cerise requests to be a part of the extra sweeps.

Who Cerise, Th'seus
What Cerise requests to be a part of the extra sweeps.
When There are 0 turns, 1 month and 12 days until the 12th pass.
Where Upper Bowl

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Upper Bowl
The graceful sweep of spacious bowl lies scoured clean by an easterly breeze. Detritus is whisked neat to the eastern steppe of the bowl that lies several feet lower than the western plateau. White walls contrast the rough granite of the rivercliffs: the giant maw of the Hatching Cavern lies in the thickest part of the western wall, sheltering the training grounds and weyrling barracks lying nor'west. Directly north lies the leadership courtyard, heavily humid and subtly scented by intrigue.


A shiver of violin notes intrude, soft, carried on currents of rose pink and dawn yellow- prelude to a waltz. « Good afternoon, Vossuth. I was wondering if you and yours might be available to speak to me and mine? » A pause. « Well, truthfully it is more that Cerise would like to speak with your handsome young man but if you wouldn't mind company either… » (From Jiamoth)

Vossuth thinks to you, « I bespoke Jiamoth with: Vossuth is not as soft or friendly as others, the jagged landscape of his mind a near continuous mindfield even at rest. « Yes. » Is the simple yet perfunctory answer to her politely put and flattering request. As to whether he'd like company? He doesn't respond on that score. But then he's not known for making friends. »

It's spring at Southern and a bright, cheerful, ninety-one degrees. It's lovely. Except for the part where it's hot as balls again. Th'seus continually suffers through this kind of weather, forced to go with shorter hair and less beard action. But still. He comes strolling down from the courtyard, sheaf of hides tucked under one arm as he crosses the bowl. He scans the people crossing the expanse of this side, looking as if he's keeping an eye out for someone. The bronzerider doesn't look terribly impatient, but the day is still pretty long so maybe he has time to kill on his hands.

For all that Jiamoth was quick with a compliment and an invitation to Vossuth, the green is not in evidence when Cerise comes marching up the angled bowl floor to reach this steppe. She must have been dropped off below- a small concession to Jiamoth's vanity, her flailing landings and taking off still something else to behold. And Cerise is trying to increase the amount of exercise she receives, right? Right. The need for which is evident in the greenrider being rather short of breath upon arrival, casting about for the bronzerider she was assured would be here. An effort has been made to make herself look presentable, at least, so in spite of the flushed face, the sweating, the quickened breathing, she's in summer-weight dark linen trousers and a shirt laced up to uniform proportions. Not a weyrling uniform, but close to it. And there's the man of the hour! She paces herself, approaching with less haste to try to catch her breath before closing on Th'seus. "…si- Sir." Her fingertips tap her brow. "Thank you. If you have a moment."

"Do you want a moment to catch your breath first?" Th'seus wonders as he takes in sight of Cerise once she's within talking to distance. Vossuth also is no where to be seen, but that's nothing out of the ordinary for the rather private and isolated bronze. He lifts chin towards the entrance to the weyr, "I was going to get a beer while I worked on these." He glances down to the hides tucked away under his arm. "Do you mind walking the distance with me?" After she's done trying to get some oxygen into her brain once again, that is.

"Pfffft." That, for taking time to catch her breath! Cerise doesn't need to breathe! She's waving a hand beside her head, also to indicate that such courtesy is entirely unnecessary- though she will take a moment before she launches into talking again. In that time, she reorients herself towards the direction indicated by Th'seus. There's no hesitation in setting off that a way. Beer is, as ever, the most effective of carrots. "Trying to get back to fighting trim," she admits when her lungs allow it, "so the walk'd do me good. Turns out you can't live on nothing but meatrolls, whiskey and no sleep. All sorts've systems start talking back to you, getting sassy and soft." Here she gestures in a circle about her midsection. Clearly that salute was only a formality; the way she's talking, they may as well be at a klah klatch. "But we're well on the way t'fitness, sir, and that's what I was hoping we'd be able to thresh out. Y'wanted me for Lynx before, aye?"

"If you insist." Th'seus answers with a crooked grin, setting off in just that direction now. He flicks some sweat from his 'brow, glancing down towards the greenrider now and again as they stroll. He's in no hurry to get down to the bar. "You can't? That explains a lot of my digestive problems a few turns ago then." Because of course, that's exactly something that Cerise needed to hear about just then. "She took take to the air alright for her flight. Though her take off does still appear rather dangerously awkward. Do they expect that to get tighter as she gets up to strength?" There's a more intent drop of his gaze to her for the question and he nods his head in the affirmative. "We did."

Poor abused bellies. Cerise is free with the wincing and the stomach patting to show she shares his pain- but only briefly, soon launching into an arm-swinging, ground-eating stride that somehow allows shorter legs to keep up with the large gulps taken by longer ones. "That's right, you were there for it, weren't you? Didn't peg Vossuth for one who fancied a green but Jia's hard to resist, eh?" This time it's her grin that flashes out, skewed off-center, warmly hued eyes lifting to meet his. "It's the take off still giving her headaches, s'true, that and landing. G'deon's got her on exercises set for building up haunch strength and it's helping some but we're not allowed to overdo it so it's not helping as fast as we'd like. But…" Here the greenrider sobers up, adopting the appropriately solemn expression in turn. "I heard you have Lynx doing extra sweeps, both ground and air. Maybe we can't do a full drill, sir, not yet, but we can fill a gap in sweeps sure enough. We can bespeak others in case of need, we can glide with the best of 'em, about as long as the smaller greens anyway and that'll only get better. Y'can use us, sir."

In his defense, Th'seus doesn't go into a crazy fast stride while with her. He seems to be aware enough of his size to decide on a reasonable gate once he recognizes her uptick in speed. "She must be. He doesn't usually go for greens, but then you never know who they're going to decide to chase." There's some faint amusement there for that and a flicker of his eyes across the bowl. Perhaps he's out that way, somewhere. Her suggestion has him falling into thoughtful silence. "I don't like the idea of her going low up the river, but no reason she couldn't stay above the treeline during the shorter of the sweeps. Did you have a mind to stay in the air with her or were you interested in being on the ground with the crew?"

"She was flattered he made that choice, speaking honestly, sir. I'm hoping the loss doesn't hurt the pitch right now, aye?" Cerise means that purely to tease, the grin back full force, complete with dueling dimples and a twinkle far too bright to be anything other than practiced. She knows charm, yes, yes she does. "I'm not above putting in a word for Vossuth if he's of a mind to chase next time, y'know." Sure she went there. But not to linger, business being business, and her drive being what it is as well. She jerks her chin up as she considers the question. "If we were in the water, sir, we'd do fine on the river. She's not so great on land though, walking and the like. Air or water's best, where she can push herself along with wings or limbs and the foot's no big handicap."

Th'seus grins, shaking his head. "No, of course not." Her next has him suck in a breath and then exhaling it with another slow bit of laughter. "I leave that kind of thing up to the dragons, usually." And here he drops it, probably because there's no alternate route to take. Not one that would leave him in good standing with a certain goldrider that is. "Not in the water, I mean very low flying sweeps. Too tight for the larger dragons to get through. I'd be more worried about her agility and maybe something force her to land down there and the struggle to get up. I think above the treeline would be fine for now though?" He adjusts the burden under his arm again, "Depending on how long this goes on for we can always re-evaluate."

"Oh, aye," Cerise says, ever agreeable now that the verdict seems to be swinging her way. "If we were keeping an eye on folk, we could do it from the water if you needed someone down there but until she's got a bit more oomph behind, best to keep to the skies, yes sir." A few half-skips sees her scuttling ahead of the man and then spinning about, moving backwards at a partial job to stay in the lead. It's exuberance that moves her so, and not a little bit of early celebration. "So when'll you have us start? The healers have us doing drills in the afternoon but we're free morning and evening, or even the night. We could do tonight even if you wanted, aye? Get a feel for the routes." Be of tangible use, though that goes unsaid, save in her plain eagerness to get a move on.

He rubs his hand across his forehead, his mouth smiling pulling to the side as she changes pace to walk in front of him, backwards. "We'll take it one step at a time, yeah? I'm not against getting you of the bowl skies and into something more active. But we won't risk you unnecessarily either, your full recovery is always the most important thing." Th'seus laughs and there's a quick shake of his head. "Why don't you join up with them tomorrow morning? I'll give Jedi the heads up that you'll be accompanying them during that time slot. Lynx drills early, so catch up with them after that. If she starts to tire before it would normally be time to switch out or finish, don't be ashamed to let us know. We're not expecting anything other than what's healthy for her now. It won't be held against you."

"It's just a foot, not her spleen. Or…something vital. Ish. But I get what you're saying." Cerise pops both hands up in a gesture meant to forestall any clarification on what he meant about one step, and recovery risks, and et cetera. She's trying not to be dismissive of such concerns but it's also clear that the green pair have reached the impatience stage of their voyage to wellness. "We'll keep a close eye on it, my word on it, and if she comes up short for finishing, we won't be shy about speaking up. Jedi's not one I'd cross that way, no sir. It'll be enough to be off the ground and doing something, aye? No more wearing nappies like the healers'd have us do."

"The healers are having you wear nappies? Is that normally part of the rehab procedure?" …? It's a joke, of course. Signaled by the quick flash of a smile after a moment of confusion crossing his expression. "Yeah, I definitely wouldn't. The woman has some kind of a tough streak for sure." Th'seus grimaces, perhaps in memory of some past experience. The weyr entrance is much closer now than it was before, the walk across the bowl being as brisk as it was. "And well, then I won't give you any more warnings. I guess you've probably heard enough of them anyway by this point. And you're right, can't hold your hand and keep an eye on the two of you twenty-four hours a day. They're just worried."

The laughter that follows the bronzerider's jest is spot on, bright and high- and utterly unamused, beneath it all. There aren't many hints to that, save for the quick way Cerise moves on once she's felt she's hit the mark for "socially appropriate amount of amusement". The worried is not a fondness of hers, then. "She could kick my ass up the Bowl and back down as well, I've no doubt of it. I won't let us overdo it but aye…we're not fresh hatched either, are we? To let everyone else decide what's best. Never did mind worrying, it's the pushiness that comes with it I don't much like." And on that note, she turns back around, walking forward as normal people do. Her hands slip easy into her pockets and a lighter smile follows, tipped up at the man. "Tomorrow morning, then. Thankee, sir. For being up to taking us on. We won't slow the rest, I promise."

"She could probably kick my ass up and down the bowl if she wanted to." Which would probably be a sight to behold and all of that. "No, you're not. You're old enough to make some of the decisions about this for yourself." With their destination now looming closer, his feet pick off in that direction. "Don't worry about it. They're not as long as some of the other sweeps, so I don't think it should burden her energy too much. Now, I'm about to get that beer. If you had any other questions…?" Because he is a man that has a thirst. And also it's still really hot. He's probably wondering why he had to move someplace where it's ninety degrees all the time.

The perils of getting old! In contrast, now that Cerise isn't running around like a crazy person, she's looking fresh. Still dewy with sweat, of course, but it is dewy instead of disheveled. Ah, youthful recovery times. "What, and keep you from your beer? Psh," she scoffs, "you could kick my ass too, and I have sweeps in the morning." That last bit is said with the loftiest tone she can muster, as if she'd been accorded a signal honor- and by someone other than Th'seus too. "G'wan then, raise a pint for me, aye?" This rather informal and unconventional parting statement is at least coupled with a salute. Then the greenrider turns…to dash off. Running again! So much for avoiding dishevelment.

"You might not be able to live off of meatrolls, but I do think I could live off of beer." Lets revisit that concept in another twenty turns when someone is a career alcoholic or something. For now, Th'seus just has the slanted grin as they say their parting words. "I will. Just-" If there was something else he cuts it off, choosing instead to keep an eye on her as she dashes off at full speed. Youth. Always full of crazy energy. "Don't break a leg or anything." He mutters with good humor as he pushes the door open to bar, ducking inside and out of the heat.

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