==== February 17th, 2014
==== Rhydian, Coora, T'ral
==== T'ral has an errand for Rhydian. Coora supplies the cord. Rhydian, you've been Searched.

Who Rhydian, Coora, T'ral
What T'ral has an errand for Rhydian. Coora supplies the cord. Rhydian, you've been Searched.
When It is midmorning of the twenty-eighth day of the first month of the first turn of the 12th pass.
Where Southern Weyr

rhydian_default.jpg coora_default.jpg t-ral_intent.jpg


Lower Bowl
Cobblestones sweep as far as the eye can see, a unique feature to the lower section of the bowl — but necessary, perhaps, as the stepped western bowl drains off into this high-trafficked area. The shallow bowl is bounded by craggy-black bowlwall with entrances pockmarked - and some boarded over in an effort to prevent entry from un-renovated caverns. Directly south, the wall neatly crumbles away to roll southerly into rollicking fields of soft hills; a glance of the stables can be seen through the gap, nestled against the entrance bridge that spans westward.

It is the eighty-eighth day of Summer and 95 degrees. It is sunny and bright. White fluffy clouds drift lazily across the china blue sky.

The cobblestones of the lower bowl's floor have been overtaken by a rather unique, large pattern, as one Starcrafter steps between them, planting pegs and marking things out with string. He's in a quieter corner where his work's not likely to be in the way of anyone, landing dragons or otherwise, step-stepping over each string that marks the distance from peg to peg, and jotting down notes on what's easily distinguishable as a drawing, to whoever may get close. It's an unsual activity for mid-morning perhaps, but Rhydian is so absorbed in what he's doing that he doesn't seem aware of whoever might be around him.

T'ral is making his way purposefully across the bowl, Esanth plodding along next to him. T'ral is wearing full flight leathers, save the helmet clipped to his waist and is sweating profusely in the relative coolth of the morning. He's looking neither left nor right until movement catches his eyes. His head swivels to Rhydian, eyes registering the familiar form with a flicker, his deliberate path breaking in a beeline towards Rhydian with geometric precision that the Starcrafter might appreciate if he was paying any attention whatever to the outside world. Esanth rumbles and sits, tail wrapping neatly around sturdy haunches, wings partly unfurled to maximize the meager circulation of damp air. The bluerider closes to within hailing distance, "Rhydian, a mo-" he cuts off, blinking at the strange feline's cradle. Urgency swept aside by a stab of curiosity, "What is this?"

A voice! Rhydian's attention is captured by it, but not to say hello - to save his work! "Waitwaitwait!" He holds up a hand, quick-picking his way through the strings towards T'ral. "Hey." Big grin. He's proud of what he's been working on. "This?" Cheesy grin continues as he scratches at his scalp through his curls, shrugging. "Do you like it?" It probably just looks like string and pegs and pebbles to anyone other than him. "It's for, um, Kultir. But I think it's a secret from his weyrmate, so, y'know. Sssh." Finger to lips emphasises the need for silence.

Coora and Sidaaeth come in from overhead, spotting Rhydian's pattern from above as they land in an unoccupied area. Coora is also wearing full leathers, but today's weather is a breeze compared to the previous days' heat wave. Coora dismounts, sliding down Sidaaeth's side with the grace of Turns of experience. Sidaaeth takes off again to wait for his rider atop the rim of the bowl.

No greeting. T'ral cocks his head, peering intently at the pegs and strings, wheels turning. Deduction. "Are those star positions?" He squints, "From when?" His brow furrows. Whatever errand he was on totally obliterated by developing mystery before him. "Is this for the tapestry?" Esanth rumbles a low, grinding greeting to Sidaaeth, wings fluttering. T'ral's dark eyes turn to toss a nod at Coora before going back to the pattern stretched out.

"Yes! Yes, they are!" Rhydian holds out the drawing with his annotations, making it very clear that he's plotting out stars on the ground before them. "It's a High Reaches summer night sky. High Reaches Weyr. Which… oh. Dear Um…" The excitement he had over star-talk suddenly sinks, and he looks at T'ral with a sad little smile. "Should I, um, say… sorry? For… well, I heard news in the caverns this morning, and - oh, I know my family's alright and everything, I got word, but… wasn't there a… a… um… the Weyrwoman?"

Sidaaeth rumbles to Esanth from on high, positioning his wings to stabilize his position. "Hey guys," Coora calls brightly, approaching T'ral and Rhydian. "Oh, High Reaches? That's pretty cool. It is too bad about their goldrider, but that doesn't mean you can't plot their stars!" Coora is nothing if not optimistic. She comes in right to the edge of Rhydian's work, crouching down to look closer. "Looked great from above. Sidaaeth can give you a ride up later, if you want to see it."

The bluerider is running short on manners today, but he manages, "Coora, Rhydian. Rhydian, Coora." He gestures between them, one to the other and back. You know, in case they need help sorting out who's who. T'ral seems decidedly distracted. By the star chart? By something else? Staring at the pegs and strings, "Morning Coora." Belatedly, he amends, "Rhydian." He studies the star positions, then the thurst-forward sketch. He draws up at the stammered mention of the loss in High Reaches. "There was. She's gone. From what I can hear it was quick." He shudders, a chill, even in the heat. "I didn't know you were from the Reaches." He nods, "I'm glad your family is safe." Because that's what it's all for.

"Pretty cool?" That seems to confuse Rhydian, who gives Coora a nod, at least, despite his lack of understanding. "Thread fell on my home. My Weyrwoman," ok, not his, but the Weyrwoman of his home area, "died." He runs his fingers awkwardly through his hair, knocking curls loose from the ponytail that would otherwise hold them back from his face. "I'm sorry, Coora." And he does genuinely look apologetic about it. "It… um… I don't think it was cool." T'ral's admission to not knowing where he's from gets a nod. "From the Hold. Yes. Thank you." For being glad his folks are safe.

Coora grins at T'ral, nodding, "Oh, we met… somewhere." Coora recognizes the face, but Faranth help her, she couldn't remember where if her life depended on it. "Oh yes, it's good that your family was safe. First fall is frequently unexpected." Because the first fall can vary depending on the weather and if it's cold enough to freeze. "I meant that your chart of High Reaches' stars was pretty cool. It looked good from above." Coora's cheeks are red at the unclear direction of her words, and she's frowning unhappily at having distressed Rhydian.

"Rhydian." T'ral looks back to the star chart - the one on the ground. Distracted T'ral is not good with segues. The bluerider unzips his flight jacket, reaching into the breast pocket, "I need you to deliver these. They're labelled. There are too many to wait for a flit and I don't want any of them running afoul. He removes a packet of letters, folded and sealed. The top-most name is 'Wingleader Arianne.' He could have given that one to Coora, given that the woman would SEE Arianne. But distracted T'ral is distracted. The letters are held out towards the Starcrafter.

"Oh. Oh! Oh. Sorry!" Cue blushing and more awkward hair-scrubbing from Rhydian. "I thought… yeah. Um… yeah. Yeah, it is kinda cool. Sorry." He bites sheepishly on his bottom lip, shrugging in apology. "I'm glad it looks good from above. It's going to be painted on a wall, so, um, if it looks good from up there then it should look good if you're standing in front of it, right?" So he hopes. T'ral's request makes him frown, though; since when was he a messenger? "I, uh… sorry? Deliveries? I'm…well…" He indicates his work. "There's still lots to do on it…"

Coora's frown turns into a wavery smile as Rhydian reacts well to her explanation. "Well, you can see it from above, if you want…" She offers tentatively, repeating her previous offer. As T'ral gives Rhydian a task, Coora's face takes on a look of confusion. "Uh, do you want me to help?" She offers, her voice strong again.

Esanth rumbles. Stammering and blushing from both are ignored. At Rhydian's balking, T'ral's eyes snap to the Starcrafter's own. "Today. When you're done with that." He fans the folded sheets until one lettered 'Headman Renalde' becomes visible. "And when you deliver that one," the one to the Headman, something proud flickers across T'ral's intent expression as he steps forward to press the still-untaken letters to Rhydian's chest, "Pick up a knot. Candidate." Whether Rhyidan takes them or not, T'ral turns on his heel and with a nod of farewell at Coora, resumes his determined path across the bowl.

Rhydian smiles at Coora, but politely declines with a shake of his head. "Oh, I'm fine seeing it from down here, but thank you all the same. Maybe, um, we could go somewhere else sometime, though? Up, I mean." Up into the sky, which he points to with a slightly smudged index finger. T'ral's insistence is met with a frown, and he doesn't look thrilled by the order. "I'm-" busy, would have been the end of that, until he's suddenly fumbling letters in his grasp as well as his drawing."Hey -huh?" As the bluerider turns to leave, he looks to Coora with wide eyes. "What?"

"Oh! Congrats. I have a knot, I think." Coora's leathers have a tiny pouch hanging off the hip, and she grabs for it, digging inside for a white knot. "See, I knew I had one. Well, more than one, really. But here, T'ral says you're going to Stand, so you need a new knot." Coora holds up the white knot gleefully, displaying it for Rhydian to see. She lowers it, extending it out towards the starcrafter.

Surprised Rhydian is surprised, though with his hands all full of letters and a drawing, he's left with nothing to actually grab the knot with. "Oh, um… thank you. I… think?" It could be good. He doesn't rightly know! But he has a knot to take and not hands to take it in… so he opens his mouth. Pop it on in there, brownrider?

Coora shrugs and gently places the knot in between Rhydian's lips. No, this isn't weird. "You're welcome. It will be fun. And even if you don't Impress, you will have been through the event of a lifetime. Or maybe you will Stand again. I stood three times before I Impressed Sidaaeth. So you never know what will happen."

Rhydian nods. Now his mouth's full too, he can't talk or gesture, so he mumbles an 'mmhrm'. "Umm.." Looking over his shoulder to the starmap on the floor, he jerks his head towards it, then back to Coora. Gripping the knot in his teeth and grimacing around it, he attempts speech: "Oo oo fink oo could… um…. atch dat for me?" Because he doesn't quite dare put the letters down on the ground, where they might get trampled on. By him, most likely. "I, er, godda go… um…" His head bobs down to his T'ral-forced burden. Hopefully Coora will get what he wants?

"Huh?" Coora says with a laugh, shaking her head as she attempts to decipher what the candidate is saying. Sidaaeth belatedly gives a trumpet of delight at the discovery of a new candidate, and Coora rolls her eyes. She speaks her thoughts aloud, "Yes, Sidaaeth, he's a candidate now, but you're late on the uptake, you silly thing!"

Oh darn, she didn't get it. Rhydian exhales gently, then decides to just drop the knot down onto the top of the letters. Why didn't he think of that before? Now it's part soggy. "Sorry. Um… yes, would you, ah, mind… could you maybe look after my stars for me, please? I want to put these somewhere safe so I, um, don't lose them." Sadly, Coora doesn't have much of an option in the matter it would seem, as the Starcrafter - wait, Candidate! - is already trotting off towards the crafters' area after giving her his brightest smile.

Coora's eyes go wide and her mouth opens on an audible "Oh!" She didn't even think of that when she was trying to translate Rhydian's words. "Oh, sure! I'll be right here!" She calls after the candidate, her voice trailing off since he's already halfway gone.

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