Who

C'sei, Eala

What

A wayward rider supplies an equally wayward weyrling with an illicit substance. More innocently, they talk about life post-hatching.

When

It is afternoon of the tenth day of the eighth month of the seventh turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Weyrling Training Grounds, Igen Weyr

OOC Date 11 Apr 2016 07:00

 

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"I could kiss you right now."


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Weyrling Training Grounds

Here, a wide and spacious field, devoid of all but more of the glare of ubiquitous, fine white sand of Igen: not even a blade of grass dares lift its head against centuries of clumsy draconic antics. To one side, ever-present firestone bins are set, kept supplied by many a hand, while agenothree tanks line the curving angle just outside the barracks, primed and ready for use. Very often, a glimpse of classes in session or dragonets at play may be caught under the open sky under the watchful eye of diligent Weyrlingmasters and older dragons.


It is extremely hot outside, summer being the way it is and all. C'sei makes his rounds through the weyr, visiting all the places that keep him entertained. Until on a whim, he decides to stroll through training grounds after dinner. It's quiet and that heat is just starting to fall off. He's not supposed to be lingering around here, obviously. And if he gets caught, someone is going to run him off. Not that it stops the greenrider from sidling up to the doors and rapping his knuckles softly. Just enough to get someone's attention, someone that's paying attention that is. Chances are no one is going to peek their head out, but maybe he'll get lucky. The greenrider leans in place and lights up a smoke while he waits. Or better yet, on second thought: Rolling disgust for having to be a messenger girl is barely disguised: « Tell yours to come outside for a moment, baby dragon. »

If there's a hesitation in Eala's response, it's only because C'sei is male, and Oriahysciath has to weigh his maleness against the bonds of sisterhood between greens in order to determine whether or not to pass on the message. Faenwyth's words are met only with the creeping presence of greenery, hinting at depths unseen before the predator's mind vanishes. In the end, it seems sisterhood wins, as a reluctant blonde with hair cropped to just above her shoulders pokes her head out into the blistering heat. "This better be good," she warns in a tone that's only half-joking. "I'd almost convinced myself that I was at a comfortable temperature, and now you're sending me out here again to remind me of how miserable it is."

C'sei is taking a long inhale, unbothered by adding the extra heat to his body. "Are you hot? I was actually feeling kind of cold." He glances down at his bare forearms for signs of bumps before he turns to face her, a smirk blossoming across his face. He digs into the pocket of his cargo pants and pulls out the all too familiar flask of water. "I thought I'd bring you down an impression gift." He waves it in his hand before stepping forward to give it to her. The greenrider keeps his voice low, lest he immediately make himself known to the weyrlingmasters that are wandering around.

"Oh, are you?" Eala feigns surprise, with just a hint of concern. "Because I've got a jacket in there, I can grab it for you." She takes a few steps back, as though she might just retreat into the sanctuary for that jacket — or else ditch him completely. But oh, that flask. A wicked smile pulls at her lips as he reveals it, no moral qualms standing in the way of taking something that's even more forbidden now than it was before the eggs cracked. "I could kiss you right now." A glance goes toward the various elements of authority floating around the area. "Too bad we're surrounded. But you're a lifesaver."

"Hmm, no really. Feel." C'sei is bold enough or careless enough to initiate the forbidden weyrling physical contact thing. Of course, it's just a brief casual touch. Back of his fingers to her arm sort of thing. It's not like he's hugging her. And he is cold, maybe he's dying! Or dead already! The smirking holds strong, a close lipped smile sort of affair. "You're welcome. Eala? Not a bad name." He relinguishes the flask and takes another drag, careful to blow the smoke away from her. "How've you been holding up? Other than needing a good drink."

"Scandal!" It's feigned outrage doused heavily in sarcasm as C'sei dares to touch her, as brief as such a thing may be. Eala glances around, as though a weyrlingmaster might suddenly materialize and accuse them of fraternization. It's not a joke she maintains for long, though, as the woman carefully sidesteps so that the other greenrider's larger frame disguises her from view. "She could've done worse by me," she agrees as the flask is deftly opened, and she raises it to her lips with one last glance from side to side. There's a quick swig, and then it's out of view again. "I think I'm losing my mind," she admits with a humorless laugh. "But as far as I can tell, that seems to be the standard."

C'sei holds his fingers to his mouth, shocked expression for her call of scandal. He drops his hand so he can use the other to take a final drag of his smoke before he tosses it on the ground and crushes it under his heel. "She's a little thing." He comments, not unkindly. "It's good, means there's less to oil. Smaller straps to deal with." The smile he has now is sympathetic (but not pitying) for her, "Impression really fucks with some people. I was jealous of the ones who adapted to it so easily, assholes." The lean is continued, his shoulder pressed against the outside wall of the barracks. He's casual enough that it looks like he belongs there and isn't some kind of troublemaker. "You'll find a new normal eventually."

"Tiny but vicious," Eala intones as she holds up her arms for inspection. Scabbed scratches cross-cut her skin. Only the earliest — mostly healed — suggest they might scar, and the rest remain only temporary. They're not a bid for sympathy, though; more like battle scars. "I've spent more time with my hand inside a dragon's mouth than I'd care to remember, and that's not just a figure of speech." Unfortunately. There's a hint of gratitude in her smile as she looks up at him. "I guess I just assumed we'd impress like-minded dragons." There's a grimace that follows this words, as though it has only just occurred to her that perhaps she did. But nothing quite so dark makes it past her lips, and it takes only seconds for an easy smile to curl at her lips again. "Some days are easier than others, but I'm sure I will. That's what I'm good at."

It's not a bid for sympathy, but C'sei winces anyway. "Ouch." Her next has him laughing and he tips his head back to muffle it. "Baby dragons are disgusting. If it helps, I was searched inside of a dragon's mouth. His rider told me he'd pay me to go in there." Let it be known, he'll do anything for money. Including risk being eaten alive. "I don't know, I guess I thought we did too. But… Faenwyth is more like the women that were important to me in my life than she is like me." He shrugs, a testament to the fact that he's long ago given up trying to understand his own impression. "I'll stop by every so often to give you a refill, until you make it there."

That's what happens when you wrestle a dragon. Eala drops her arms with a shrug, as though to say 'what can you do?' "It reminds me never to have actual kids." Baby dragons are more than enough responsibility in that regard. A look of disgust passes over her face as he speaks of his search. Fear? No, but she can't help commenting, "That's the kind of smell you never get rid of." To prove her point, she leans in toward C'sei and gives him a sniff. Although her expression suggests that something lingers, she's not such a fool as to keep on insulting the man offering to supply her with booze. "Oriahysciath is…" A shrug. Rather than continue, she easily slips onto more welcome subjects. "You're a lifesaver. Really, you are."

"Right? And the actual kids are disgusting for turns. The dragons eventually grow up." C'sei doesn't quite shudder at the idea of having children, but it's a thing there lingering in his body language. "I bathe regularly and the smell disappeared after a couple of months. Mostly." He rolls his eyes humorously before looking back at her again. "It's our fault you're stuck in there. It's the least I can do." A shrug follows and he adds on, "But don't let anyone know. If anyone learned I wasn't a full on apathetic slacker, they'd get the idea I could be useful. And I've successfully avoided paying a woman back over this carpet for about six months now, I can't ruin my streak."

"At least physically. I'm sure some of the males…" Never grow up. She apparently deems the actual words unnecessary, but just fixes him with a smirk. "Mostly," she agrees easily enough, although there's mischief in those blue eyes, and perhaps just a hint of bad intentions. Brows lift, and after a moment there's a nod. "It is your fault, it's true." There's not much of an accusaion behind those words. "Please, and lose my supplier? Never. Your secret is safe with me." The bemused look upon her face suggests questions of a carpet are liable to arise at a later date. Perhaps even later in the conversation, if he isn't chased off by an overly vigilant weyrlingmaster. "You can always tell them your skills lie only in the realm of booze."

C'sei laughs along quietly, not inclined to disagree with that unspoken sentiment. He pats where he keeps the case of smokes, his fingers beginning to resort to the twitchy, restless thing he normally keeps under wraps. "I'm surprised they haven't noticed you're out here yet." He peers past Eala's shoulder to the inside of the barracks, getting a peek at some of the people milling around inside. Someone is probably having some kind of baby dragon crisis and that's why they're not aware he's out here with her. "Oh, I think they're well convinced that I have a serious drinking problem at this point." Not that he exactly denies it either. "Or maybe they just think I'm very relaxed."

Eala makes a little 'tsk' sound of disapproval with her tongue as C'sei seems like he might go for something in his pocket. Having seen his two vices in action, she can hazard a guess. "They'll kick you out," she warns quietly. As for her seeming invisibility? "There are advantages to not being overly leggy," she admits in gesture to her average height. "And as long as Oriahysciath isn't ransacking someone's couch-" not entirely unlikely- "they'll probably leave me be." The advantages of being a diligent overachiever, even with a morally ambiguous dragon attached to her side. Speaking of, Oriahysciath seems to have tired of lounging, as the predatorial green pokes her head out of the barracks. Curious, calculating. Watching C'sei like she's not quite sure whether to drive him back or allow him to hold his ground. "Everyone's well-convinced of that." She's making no effort to stop his habits, though. At least those related to alcohol.

He doesn't do it, though he might like to! He eventually just pats the pocket and crosses his arms over his chest. Locked together like that he can minimize any peculiar fidgety behavior he might be about to exhibit. "I can stop any time I like." C'sei declares loftily of his smoking habit. He's about to say something else, when the green makes her appearance. He dips his chin down to get an eyefull of her and refrains from putting his hand out like one would with a dog. "She's a sharp one." She watches him, he watches her. He doesn't make any sudden movements, maybe it'll all be good. The greenrider glances up at her last comment, his lips twisting into a crooked smile. Instead of replying to the he asks teasingly, "Are you planning on climbing the weyrlings ranks so you can be head bag thrower in threadfall?"

He doesn't do it, though he might like to! He eventually just pats the pocket and crosses his arms over his chest. Locked together like that he can minimize any peculiar fidgety behavior he might be about to exhibit. "I can stop any time I like." C'sei declares loftily of his smoking habit. He's about to say something else, when the green makes her appearance. He dips his chin down to get an eyefull of her and refrains from putting his hand out like one would with a dog. "She's a sharp one." She watches him, he watches her. He doesn't make any sudden movements, maybe it'll all be good. The greenrider glances up at her last comment, his lips twisting into a crooked smile. Instead of replying to the he asks teasingly, "Are you planning on climbing the weyrlings ranks so you can be head bag thrower in threadfall?"

There's a snort of laughter from Eala at those words. "Yeah, okay." The words are rife with skepticism, but she seems largely amused rather than anything else. Given that she has barely cast a glance in Oria's direction, chances are the green isn't about to lunge and try to take his hand (or any other appendage) off. Rider is relaxed, and the dragon is seemingly so — although she does open up her mouth wide to show off all those razor-sharp teeth. Do you see, C'sei? That's a smile. "From the brain to the talons," she agrees with no lack of humor. No sudden movements are probably his best bet, because the bluish green is still eyeing him as though he might be dinner, even though she hasn't moved an inch. "You think I-" A glance to the green, and then she modifies- "We're going to let anyone else tell us what to do?"

It's a good thing that in addition to other people not taking C'sei seriously, he doesn't take himself very seriously either. Because where others would become affronted by her skepticism, he merely seems accepting of that take and rolls with it. The green is there, showing off her razor-sharp teeth and he smiles, a little awkwardly, at the display. "Ah, well." No comment there on her smile. It takes a moment but he drags his gaze away and straightens, resuming focus on Eala with a wolfish pull to his smile. "No, I suppose not. Maybe once you graduate, you can take over my wing and be my boss." He suggests it with a smile, plenty of people have been the boss of him over the last several turns. Why shouldn't Eala?

It's a charming smile, C'sei. But Oriahysciath seems well-aware of the effect of that grin of hers, if the calculation behind that whirling gaze is any indication. She'll just hang here creepily, watching him. No pressure or anything. Eala rolls her eyes at the green's behavior, but she doesn't make any move to shoo her off, either. Perhaps that has something to do with the reason her lips curl into a smirk at C'sei's awkwardness. Sorry, she's taking delight in this moment. "I don't know," she says after a moment's pause, smug smile hinting at what's to come. "Do I want to be a part of your wing?" That bit of snark past her lips, she does admit, "But yeah, why not? I could make it work, even if she can't fly the full fall." Confidence.

C'sei is just going to work very hard at not looking down at her again. If he doesn't make direct contact with her open-jawed grin, maybe it won't seem quite so unnerving. "You could do worse, Th'bek is alright. We're all overcoming the lingering effects of Zeyta's psychological abuse, but no one's cracked yet." Basically anyone else could paint a better picture of Arroyo than he did right there. In truth, everyone is probably much more normal than he just made them sound. "Plus, there's the added benefit of spending your time with me. And I haven't led you down a wrong path yet." Hmm, that's up for debate. And there's a 'yet' attached. But look, he's smiling. It's almost boyish, almost endearing. "There've been greenriders who do it. It's just getting the right balance is all." Says he of the eternal wingrider's knot.

C'sei is just going to work very hard at not looking down at her again. If he doesn't make direct contact with her open-jawed grin, maybe it won't seem quite so unnerving. "You could do worse, Th'bek is alright. We're all overcoming the lingering effects of Zeyta's psychological abuse, but no one's cracked yet." Basically anyone else could paint a better picture of Arroyo than he did right there. In truth, everyone is probably much more normal than he just made them sound. "Plus, there's the added benefit of spending your time with me. And I haven't led you down a wrong path yet." Hmm, that's up for debate. And there's a 'yet' attached. But look, he's smiling. It's almost boyish, almost endearing. "There've been greenriders who do it. It's just getting the right balance is all." Says he of the eternal wingrider's knot.

It seems Oriahysciath is ready to stop catching flies, as those jaws snap shut again. But she's still not ready to stop staring, those whirling eyes boring into C'sei. In this instance, it probably has less to do with him and more to do with her rider — but there's no way to tell that. "I've encountered Zeyta," she admits. Is that admiration in her voice? Sorry, C'sei. "I don't know how familiar I am with Th'bek." As he illuminates the benefits, Eala can't help but laugh. It's not unkind; she just seems genuinely amused that he'd be so bold as to list himself as a benefit. "Yet," she agrees, hanging on that conditional word. "But at least I'd never lack for a drink. I could be in far worse condition than that." There's a little shake of her head at that smile, although the echoing grin on her lips suggests she's at least slightly charmed. "I'm becoming an expert at balancing."

C'sei is still ignoring her staring at him. Which doesn't mean he's not noticing it, because he's definitely aware of it. He just has a lot of practice pretending that things aren't happening when they are. Someday Eala will meet Faenwyth and she'll understand. "And you lived to speak of it." Prodded hard enough, he might admit a begrudging respect for Zeyta. But not this day! Reluctantly, he pushes off of the barracks wall and sighs. "I should leave before someone does realize that I don't belong here. I'll be back." It's more a promise than a traditional good-bye, but he uncrosses his arms to manage a wave. A few backwards steps ensures he'll catch her departing words before turns and concludes his exit.

The fact that Eala makes no attempt to explain Oriahysciath's staring as her way of uh, making friends, means that it's probably exactly as predatory as it seems. But at least C'sei is skilled at ignoring it, and the blonde looks at him with approval. The booze isn't the only reason she likes him. "I think she was preoccupied at the time." Maybe that's the only reason Eala admires her — she hasn't had a proper Zeyta encounter yet. "It's because you look so young and innocent," she drawls with heavy sarcasm, shifting toward the doorway when it seems she might be noticed without a C'sei-shield. "Thanks for the gift." Which has somehow mysteriously vanished during the course of their conversation, deftly tucked into hiding. She stands there just long enough to watch her fellow greenrider depart, before ducking back into the anonymity of the barracks.

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