Br'er, Cha'el


Cha'el has no proper respect for other people's libraries. Br'er has no sense of fun. Except when it comes to dirty pictures and blackmail opportunities, that is.


It is midmorning of the twenty-eighth day of the sixth month of the first turn of the 12th pass.


Archive Library

OOC Date


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Archive Library

Where once books reigned supreme, this open space is now dominated by a stalwart skybroom reaching to the sky through a broken ceiling. What was once evidence of collapse is now ornately carved with engraved ivy, matched by a clever contraption of stone that allows the gap to be closed in inclement weather. A small garden occupies the space around the tree-trunk, all manicured bushes and flowering shrubbery enclosed by a grated gutter. The walls are lined with bookcases, while a spiral staircase leans on the western wall to wind upwards to the second level. Tucked in the corners and scattered in the main areas are tables and chairs, cafe-style, and comfortably worn overstuffed armchairs. It is the perfect place for individuals to gather, to enjoy the offerings of the food-cart or a spirited conversation.

Timor: 1_m8.jpgBelior: 1_m20.jpg

Igen is nothing but sand, sand and more sand and the Southern Weyrrain - A steady constant of the stuff bucketing down from the skies in a seemingly never-ending stream. So much for surfing on his day off. Long board laid reverently atop a table, fins in the air, its owner is currently scouring the shelves for something to read. Preferably along the lines of sailing conditions on the Southern seas going by the section he's in.

Soft footsteps sound the alarm: someone else is here. Who that someone else becomes immediately obvious upon, "Why the fuck is there a surfboard in the library?" Br'er feels this is a rational and valid question. Only AFTER does he notice that the presumptive owner is someone familiar. Someone he can go over towards, a hand moving to cuff Cha'el lightly upside the back of the head. "We let you visit our tropical shores, and you leave your beach bum litter in the library?" The greenrider's raspy voice rings with good humor. "Really?"

Cha'el barely has a second to think before he's being cuffed upside the head. "Oy!" Spinning about with glare stitched across his features recognition is quick to dawn when he claps eyes on Br'er. "Build a rack for surfboards and I'll use it." The brownrider is quick to quip back looking not the least bit apologetic. "And sort your weather out. It sucks ass." He grumbles pulling free a book whose spine indicates reading of nautical interest.

"I'll just go and file a complaint for you," says Br'er, dry as the desert. "It's the rainy season, Cha'el." The greenrider tsks again at the surfboard, complaining, "You're like one of those wildling savages, tracking outdoor things indoors - only at least it's just dirt and bugs with them. Not SURFBOARDS." He pauses, here, to peer over Cha'el's shoulder to see what he's reading. And helpfully adds: "Oh, this one is shit. You should get the guide one of the dolphineers wrote about the reefs instead."

"Hey, I'm clean." Cha'el is quick to counter peering down at himself. Okay so, his shorts are dripping a little, his shirt is stuck to him in places and his feet and calves have black sand clinging to them. But its not mud so that counts for something right? "Aye, thinking maybe of bringing my skip down here." Sikorth, specialist in transporting small sailing vessels. Not. Flipping the book open expecting to see sketches of perhaps a shipping route along with some or other blurb about tides and lunar influences, what the cousins get an eyeful of instead is a rather interesting (and very detailed sketch) of a couple in position of some compromise. Dead silence from the brownrider who flips another page and then another with each bearing different contortions of the human frame. "Well fuck me." He murmurs and flips to another turning the book around. "I musta missed this lecture at the craft hall."

"Surface clean, maybe. Your hair is probably crawling with lice. I know what Igen's like." Whatever, Br'er, we can't all be impeccably groomed in improbable moments, you narcissist. "And your boat is -" The greenrider joins Cha'el in silence. It's thoughtful silence. "I guess," he says, finally, "that what they say about sailors is true." Pause. Mildly, and with information Cha'el never, ever wanted to know: "I've tried that one." He helpfully POINTS. "Just makes your lower back hurt."

Br'er earns himself a look one that turns positively evil and finds Cha'el reaching behind him to RUFFLE the greenrider's perfectly coiffured do. "Least ain't afraid of getting down and dirty." He drawls in a tone that suggests he's passed the topic of sailing over in favor of the book in his hands. A snort greets his cousin's comment. "That's cause you were probably doing it wrong." Another page is flipped, this one with a drawing that extends over both pages. "Lila!" Cha'el declares stabbing a finger at the female's rear. "I'd know that ass anywhere."

"Parasites aren't sexy, Cha'el," Br'er says, firmly. "They just aren't. I don't care what they tell you at that sandheap." The ruffle wins a muffled yelp, partnered with a look of utter betrayal. And then, accordingly, another smack up the backside of the head. "Motherfucker." Br'er's hand goes hastily up to smooth his injured tresses. "And, thank you, but I was doing it right, it's just a shitty way to - huh." Intrigue settles over the greenrider's features; he reaches over to flick another page. "Done with live models, then, do you think? I wonder if there are any more people one of us knows -"

"Fuck you!" Comes the brownrider's offended retort. "I don't have fucking parasites, Crab-crotch." So mature. "Pussy." Is the mutter as Br'er attempts to fix The Hair though there is a fond undertone to it. Broad, salt sticky shoulders roll in a shrug. "She was an adventurous girl. Up for anything. Don't know him though." The named female's partner in limber situation pointed at. Another few pages are flipped and teeth bare in a wicked grin. "Ever tried this one?" Canting his head to one side, Cha'el squints at the picture, "Hey, isn't that the guy who lost that game of cups to you down at the docks that summer?"

"In both positions," Br'er concedes, quite cheerfully unabashed. Sure, let's just stand around and look at porn in a public library, the greenrider sees absolutely nothing weird about that. "And -" squint "- yes." Pause. "If I had known he was packing that, I might not have cheated." Affably unwilling to let go of a perfectly good excuse to be an asshole to a family member, the man idly inspects his nails as he adds: "Of course, if I had, I probably would have ended up as lousy," in the literal sense, "as the rest of you Istans…"

Apparently this is something the cousins have in common for Cha'el isn't making any attempt to keep his comments lowered to sotto tone. A snort of amusement greets the greenrider's notation of the male model. "You still would have cheated," is noted, "you just would have found a more creative way of getting him to pay up." Smirk. For a moment humor fades and the former Istan scowls at his relative. "If you had you might not be such a pansy." Grump. The next page turned sees brows first knitting together in concentration as he tries to get the way of things and then hiking upwards when he does, the book held up so that Br'er can get an eyeful.

"I'm not a pansy," says Br'er, "I just have dignity." Pansy. He falls silent, mouth half opened, as he eyes the new page. Finally, slowly: "Is that who I think it is?"

Blue eyes roll expressively. "Aye well, some of us need more help than others. And some of us were just born this way." Back at ya, cuz! Attention turned down to the page, Cha'el blinks. "No fucking way! You think?" Br'er is shot a look of high amusement colored in by an opportunity for potential blackmail.

Br'er slowblinks at Cha'el, an expression of pure evil settling slowly onto his pleasant features. "I think… I think you and I have a mutual acquaintance to visit." And torment. Definitely torment. And then, abruptly: "But first -" an ACCUSING finger is pointed towards that SURFBOARD, "will you get your damn toys out of Southern's library? I KNOW Auntie didn't raise you in a barn, you savage -"

Within the neat frame of salt speckled beard, Cha'el's lips curl about a wicked line. "We'll need this as evidence of course." He states, snapping the book shut and tucking it under his arm. "You really need to get that stick outta your arse, let your hair down," a pointed look at frighteningly well behaved locks of brunette, "and just have some fun! Maybe I should talk to Q'fex. Arrange an intervention." He goes on to say moving toward his treasured surfboard just in case Br'er should think to remove it himself. "And," a finger goes up and waggles at his cousin, "a barn is the perfect setting for page twenty-two." Because he's tried it.

"I know how to have fun!" Br'er complains, as he begins to lead the way out into the broader Weyr. "But, Faranth, Cha'el, I'm going to be thirty-six in a month, I think I'll allowed some middle-aged stodginess -" Pfft because thirty-six is half dead, SURE BR'ER. "Besides," are the last words he says in the library, echoing off the serene shelves, "would someone who hates fun be going with you to engage in a little light blackmail? I think not."

Scooping his 'board up with practiced ease, Cha'el snorts, unconvinced on the matter of Br'er knowing how to have fun. And then he laughs, the sound a little lackluster for he sits but a mere two turns in age behind the greenrider. "Least you got your life together, cousin. Some days I still feel like that wet-behind-the-ears kid that's still chasing his tail." That having been said a sly grin folds into place. "What you reckon we can get to keep our mouths shut and disappear this book, eh?"

"Everything," says Br'er, with satisfaction. "Everything."

Laughter sounds out for that, with banter traded back and forth on matters of blackmail, the illuminating sketches in the book and what does or doesn't, constitute fun as the pair of schemers head toward their 'victim'.

(OOC: Would-be blackmail victims welcome to volunteer xD)

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