Who

Amania, Rhuysarr

What

Amania and Rhuysarr chat about adjusting to Weyr life while trying to drag out the minutes until curfew.

Talk of death/loss.

When

It is late night of the twenty-eighth day of the tenth month of the eleventh turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Upper Bowl, Southern Weyr

OOC Date 01 Sep 2017 07:00

 

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"But…eventually I found out it's better to see the truth of things for yourself. Even when it's hard to make yourself do it."


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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.


It's not quite as late as it seems, the number of Candidates currently sprawled out for the count on their bunks being an innacurate indicator of the time. There's still a good half-candlemark left before lights out. Amania isn't in the barracks, however, feeling a bit…stifled by the number of people in there this evening for some reason or other. She hasn't quite put her finger on why yet. She sits on the border between the training grounds and upper bowl, dim moonlight affording her just enough to see by. Her firelizards wheel around on whispering wings overhead in an almost drowsy way, pairs of yellow-green glowing eyes passing before the stars she tilts her head back against the stone wall behind her to gaze at.

Times may have changed from Rhuysarr's first candidacy where he willfully broke the rules, but the man never stops pushing at the edges of them. Every night finds him out until the very last moment, enjoying every moment of freedom before regulations tie him to the barracks. He's meandering in from somewhere in the direction of the weyr entrance, taking his time in crossing the bowl to draw out every last second before he hits the last leg of his journey toward containment. It's the wheeling firelizards which first draw his attention as the green curled around his neck burbles curiously, attracted by the movement. He reaches up to scratch at her absentmindedly, murmuring a few words under his breath. To sate his curiousity he moves closer, tilting his head when the shadows rearrange themselves into Amania's familiar form. "Not tired yet?"

It takes a bit for Amania to recognize Rhuysarr, dark eyes squinting a bit and then blinking a few times before she makes out the wildling man's features. "Oh, I am," she replies in a rather wry drawl. "I just don't want to try heading back in with people yammering until the warning, is all." She sits forward a bit, considering him with a slight tilt of her head. "You always come back at the last minute," she observes with smirk, one that says she can appreciate the habit. "Just because?"

"They do like to talk." For reasons which remain unfathomable to the man who'd just as soon sit in silence for hours at a time than carry on a conversation for longer than a handful of minutes. Rhuysarr urges Rhyssa to release her tail from around his neck, her grip tighter now that they're so close to the other firelizards. He gives her tail a gentle flick with his fingers, until that death-grip gradually relaxes. "I understand and follow the rules, but I don't live by a curfew," he answers flatly, glancing back toward the weyr entrance and the jungle that looms beyond. "I take what I'm allowed."

Either Amania's flits pick up on the presence of Rhuysarr's green, or they learn it from their bonded's observation of him trying to ease the grip of her tail. Either way, her own green Zamarad tries her luck at greeting Rhyssa with friendly croon, even though Amania has them all keep a distance so as not to aggravate the little thing further. "That they do," she agrees with a sigh, a brief glance flicked back toward the barracks before she decides to rise and lean against the wall while standing instead of sitting. Nothing seems comfortable right now, thanks to most every muscle being sore. She's intrigued by the way he phrases his reply, watching where his gaze goes. "You spend as much time out there as you can?" she ventures. "More comfortable than here?"

Rhyssa keeps a curious eye upon Zamarad, but her return call is more of a muffled squeak than any sort of noise one would expect from a firelizard. She seems comfortable enough observing from a distance, even if Rhuysarr has to lift his hand to give her tail the occasional reminding tap when it starts to tighten again. "Do you not?" he asks curiously, following her line of sight toward the promise of the barracks, a promise which he's not looking forward to keeping tonight. At least he no longer looks as battered and bruised as he did, although he's still looking like a man who hasn't had a good night's rest in some days. "As close to there as I can." It's rare that he has the patience to tolerate a rider escort, so he sticks to the fringes of the Weyr. "But yes." Of course, his tone seems to say.

Ah well, it seems Zamarad isn't going to be able to coax a new friend out to chatter with tonight. She just keeps wafting around overhead for now, ever inviting whether she's able to get Rhyssa to come out or not. Rhuysarr's question earns a quirk of dark brows. "Not what? Like to talk?" She shrugs somewhat diffidently. "I don't mind it so much now, I suppose," indicating it used to be more of a hang-up at some point. "But I don't like pointless talk. And sometimes…it's just better to be quiet. Being comfortable in silence can be just as useful as filling it. Plus you can keep people guessing." At his last, the corner of her mouth quirks upward for his tone. "How did you end up here when home was out there?"

Rhyssa is a creature of changeable moods (much like her master), and tonight it seems she clings to reticence rather than indulging her curiosity. Still, she doesn't stop watching. Rhuysarr tilts his head in a silent 'yes', his dark-eyed gaze fixed upon the northern woman. "Now." He picks up on that single word, repeating it with a slight lift to his brows, but it's not the sort of pressing nosiness that would try to corner her into an answer. He merely leaves the door open for her to elaborate. "That's true." Short and to the point, as he so often is. The wildling isn't always a thrilling conversationalist, but he does try to keep up his end of things. "I came for revenge." He seems to have no qualms about admitting his ill intentions, for there are still those at Southern who remember him as he was. "I stayed to help keep the peace."

Amania nods when Rhuysarr latches onto that particular word, a small grin making an appearance before her eyes drop to idly survey the tracing of one of her palms with her fingertips. "Most of my life I was just trying to get by out at the edge of the desert. I kept my head down, tried to keep from being noticed. When I got to Igen…I had to get better at it." And wonder of wonders, she actually made a few friends because of it. She doesn't mind how succinct Rhuysarr is in the slightest, likely because she sees a similarity to his way of speaking and her earlier self. His answer, so bluntly given, has her blinking at him in surprise. "Revenge…for what?"

"I've heard of the desert." Heard, but never seen. "I cannot imagine a place where nothing grows. How do people live?" Igen, too, is a name well-recognized by the wildling man, and he nods his understanding. "More people?" For Rhuysarr, the Weyr has only had this effect in sparing degrees, his stilted conversation more of a natural trait than one bred of isolation. Engaging others was a task always left to his sister, while he was content to sit back and merely observe those around him. Now he attempts to carry on both traditions. He considers Amania for a moment, his dark eyes taking her in, weighing the worth of explaining his past. "Our people died here, including my sister. They failed to protect us." And although the bitterness has mostly faded now, there's still an edge of it which is never entirely lost.

Again Amania nods. "More people, and I needed work. I'm…I was from a place where there were thieves and raiders. I didn't want anyone thinking I was one of those, so…" Communication became rather essential to avoid being seen as too shady. As for how people live… "Things do grow there. Not everywhere, but if you know where to look, the desert provides what you need. We of the desert know how to survive in our way, like the people of the jungle know how to survive their way." And now she's gone and cross-pollinated. BIG adjustment! She stills as Rhuysarr decides to study her, meeting his gaze steadily in turn…but his reply has her brows quirking together subtly. "They…missed some Thread?" she guesses quietly. "I'm sorry, Rhuysarr." She knows the pain of losing family all too well.

"Like the pirates and smugglers here." He harkens it to what he knows, although his knowledge is not as intimate as some. Still, he did explore an abandoned pirate ship hand-in-hand with Hannah. "I think some of their number have found a home here. Those who were not too… criminal. You might have been given the same chance." The slightly questioning inflection suggests he doesn't entirely know what this means, merely that there is a distinction between some members of this ill-favored class. "Everyone has their way of surviving," he agrees, inclining his head in acknowledgement of hers. "I just cannot imagine a life without trees." He is bound to this land, for better or for worse. An offer from a dragonrider would not tempt him to stray, when everything he wishes to build is here. "A queen rose during threadfall." He won't say which queen, although undoubtedly he remembers. "I am told it was chaos. But she came because she believed the dragonriders and their ways were worth knowing."

Finding parallels continues to be a source of comfort for Amania, so she nods easily to the comparison Rhuysarr makes. His elaboration upon what happened has her brow furrowing subtly in thought. She's still learning about what a queen rising entails, having heard some blush-inducing things that sound rather far-fetched but at least understanding that it affects the entire Weyr. So for a queen to rise during Threadfall… She can't quite wrap her head around what that must have done. "Did you believe the same as her, or did it take some time?"

Parallels are the only things which allow Rhuysarr to even begin to gather what Igen must be like. So far, he imagines it to be much like the hatching sands, stretched as far as the eye can see. He wasn't witness to the chaos that left other curious wildlings at the mercy of any missed thread, so there is little more he can offer in the way of elaboration. Surely, someone here could tell her about the 'fall that precipitated the wildling rebellion, if she were to ask. "No. I believed it was their fault. They claimed this land without concern for the people who lived here already, and tempted our people to their deaths." The old edge can be found in the undercurrents of his voice, even if his opinions have shifted. Old habits die hard. "But I learned."

At this point, Amania probably will ask, given how thus conversation with Rhuysarr has piqued her curiosity. She nods slowly when he gives his answer, dark eyes dropping idly to her hands again. "Growing up where I did, I wasn't taught much about the Weyr. I didn't expect them to come forcing us out of the Underground the way they did, with families being there and all. I wanted to leave, but others didn't have anywhere to go and I was bitter at the dragonfolk for a while," she says quietly. "But…eventually I found out it's better to see the truth of things for yourself. Even when it's hard to make yourself do it." Looking back up at the wildling, she asks, "What did you learn?" Searching for another parallel with her fellow Candidate.

"They forced all of you out of your homes?" That old judgement rears its head again — likely it's a habit Rhuysarr will never truly break, even if he does find his match out on the sands. Bureaucracy is not something he'll understand any time soon, if he ever gets his grasp upon it. All he hears is that people were forced from their homes, regardless of the circumstance behind it. "No one else seems to truly understand the dragonriders except other dragonriders," he admits after a moment, frowning thoughtfully at the ground beneath his feet. "It is strange how they must be forced to offer others that same understanding." It's a thought he seems to have mulled over countless times, for the man is able to dismiss it with a twitch of his lips, the shadow passing from his features. "I learned that they mean to protect, even if they are not always successful. Even if we do not see eye to eye."

"They didn't know they were, though I didn't learn that 'til later," Amania qualifies. "They thought they were just clearing a raider's nest." And then found out the hard way that it wasn't that simple at all. "Seems true enough, them being the only ones to really understand one another. And a little backwards that the forcing has to happen. Though it's been different, between each of them I've gotten to talk to." To his last, she gives another slow nod. "That's been about my conclusion, too. Plus they've got all sorts among them, too, same as anywhere else. People are people, even with dragons attached." For better or worse. Presently, a call rings out from the barracks entrance announcing the impending enforcement of lights out, which prompts Amania to straighten from the wall slowly. "Better head back in, I guess," she notes, though there's a little smirk playing at one corner of her mouth. She doesn't seem to be in a huge hurry just yet.

"They seem to jump to action first." And ask questions like, 'who are these people who we're herding out in droves?' later. It's a methodology which works well in the fight against thread, but perhaps less so when dealing with the human element of the world. "That is whatI hope to change, by being here. I wish to remind them of the people." There is certainty in the set of his jaw, and nothing about his bearing suggests that he fears he will become like them if a dragon chooses him. He's prepared to blaze his own path within the structure which already exists. "People are people," he agrees with a slight upward curl of his lips. "But dragons are bound to the Weyr, and so the dragonriders are bound, too." The Weyr is a trap, and for better or for worse they have both chosen to walk into it. His head turns at the sound of that call, annoyance in the subtle clench of his jaw. "I guess so." He's no more eager than she. "We'll walk together. Slowly." If they're going to be imprisoned for the night, at least they can make the wardens work for it.

Amania nods again to the point the dragonriders are bound…and wonders for the hundredth time why she was willing to subject herself to the trap even as she answers it the same way she always has. And now, she can add that perhaps she'll end up in a position to better connect the Weyr to the people beyond them, too, more than merely by going out on Search and such. Rhuysarr's point hits home enough for a bit more fuel to be added to her motivations. Her lips curve in a subtle smile at his suggestion. "Slowly," she agrees, and will fall into step beside him at a very deliberate pace back to the barracks. Any annoyance garnered by their minders for a subtle push without breaking the rules has been well worth it this night.

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