Who

Kultir & S'yn

What

After drills S'yn wanders down to the beach to wash the stink of firestone from Iaxryth's hide and encounters a friend.

When

It is midmorning of the twentieth day of the second month of the first turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Beach, Southern Weyr

OOC Date

 

kultir_default.jpg Sytin-Young_Icon.jpg

beach.jpg

Beach

An eerie mirror, the glass-quiet Sea of Azov: the clear waters stretch along the dark-pebbled shores, and along this narrow beach. Here the faintest lap of waves belies the calm beyond; here the rocks have been ground down into finest, softest sand - those observant would mark upon the similarity between it and the sands of the hatching grounds. The soft sand soaks up summer sunlight as a sponge; painfully hot during the warmer months, it is only truly pleasant at wintertime. Rocks rise to east and west, lichen-limned and green against the abyssal darkness of stone.


A lean form is balanced on the rocks poking up above a pool of water as the sun streams over his back, Kultir’s body casting a shadow over the surface of the water so that he can see the denizens of the pool more easily. Leaning further down, the young man submerges his head as he reaches for something within that depression and finally resurfaces to tuck what looks to be a fist-sized rock into the net bag hanging at his hip. Glancing up, amber eyes squint in the sunlight as he looks over his shoulder at the angle of the sun to gauge the time of day before returning his gaze to the pool. Blinking to adjust his vision to the shadowed pool, he submerges once more as he balances with one hand against a rock near where his head breaks the water’s surface.

Early morning drills are finally done, leaving the participants free to wash the stink of firestone from their hides after some much needed flaming practice. One of those seeking to cleanse that unappealingly strong aroma from his hide is S'yn; stripped down to naught but a pair of swim trunks in the balmy mid-morning, he's got a satchel of supplies over his shoulder as he walks in sandals from the boardwalk to the shore. A large shadow slips by overhead as Iaxryth glides in on citrine sails, banking sharply on a wingtip despite his size to spiral inward toward the glistening sea. The amber eyes of the rider go briefly out of focus with conversation to his lifemate, but when they come back into focus they land on the perching hunter even as the bronze breaks the surface of the waves to dive deep into the azure current. "Hey." The greeting is simple as he pads across the sandy shore toward that tidal pool. "Wanna help me get this lump of metal clean so he stops whining about his ability to attract greens being diminished?" How's that for a hello?

Kultir’s head breaks the surface of the water once more as he pulls up another fist-sized shell from the pool. The large shadow passing overhead catches his attention and causes a smile to curve his lips as he recognizes the coppery bronze. The greeting of the rider makes him look down once more as he chuckles softly and shrugs. “Sure, I can help you. I’m already mostly wet.” Pushing himself to his feet, the tracker hops down into the shallows so that he can move toward his friend. Dressed in only a pair of knee length trous and the net bag draped over one shoulder, it is obvious that the young man is ready for a wet job whether it’s his own or helping someone else.

“Thanks.” S’yn chuckles faintly, relieved for some help with the small but still sizable dragon. The net bag is spied along with the latest snatch of the hunter, amber eyes taking the sight quickly. “Good haul?” he inquires hopefully as he slings the satchel from his shoulder and tugs the drawstring open to pull out a large bag of sweetsand for scrubbing the giant beast with. Iaxryth surfaces a dragonlength or so away from the shore, his bright amber skin unmistakable in its glistening hue. A low rumble issues forth from the beast as saline sprays from his nostrils on the exhale of his held breath, blue-green eyes whirling eagerly for the cleansing he’s about to receive as he wades partway out to the shallows where his rider will only be up to his waist at the deepest point. “Yes, Iax, I’m coming, hold your tail-fork.”

Kultir grins and nods slightly. “Not too bad considering it’s all from tidepools rather than me diving for it.” The young tracker watches as the coppery bronze surfaces and chuckles as the water sprays up from the dragon’s nostrils. “I guess he’s in a hurry to get clean, huh?” The net bag is set safely on a rock where it won’t be washed away while he’s helping his friend with the dragon’s bath. “Morning, Iaxryth. Who are you wooing today?”

Iaxryth whuffles at the pair of them as the water flows down over the smooth hide, the burnished copper flesh glistening in Rukbat's balmy light. The dragon does have a rather strong essence of firestone to him despite the crisp salt of the ocean breeze around them, and there are soot marks around the amber muzzle from the resultant ash. "Jiamoth," S'yn rumbles with an eyeroll, tolerant of the bronze's obsession. "He's in love with her, I swear." As if a thirteen-Turn-old would know much about such things. "He still thinks she's the greatest thing on three limbs." The coal-covered head shakes in bemusement for his bond's infatuation even as his fingers undo the lacing holding the sack of sand shut. "You do one side, I'll do the other?"

Kultir laughs softly as his friend relays the message and nods. “Ahh, I’m sure she’s a sweet little green that adores all the affection you can give her, Iaxryth.” The tracker nods at the request that he work on one side of the bronze and reaches for the sand as soon as the sack is opened. Dampening that handful, he begins gently scrubbing at the delicate hide and skin of the ash-smudged muzzle. “So how did drills go today, Sy?”

"Fairly uneventful," S'yn admits as he sets the sack of scrubbing sand between Iaxryth's headknobs so he can start washing the lithe, almost bony bronze. "We had flaming practice and mock Threadfall. On the bright side Iax didn't get 'scored'." A hand pulls away from its scrubbing of the angular jaw to gesture along the citrine form, devoid of the dye marks that would mar the beast if he'd gotten hit. "Hope the same holds true while we're flying actual Thread." The teenager works over the delicate features of the face with an almost thoughtless efficiency after so many times of performing this task, soon moving along the lithe neck. "I imagine Kalea will tell you all about it when you get back to the weyr, so don't let me talk your ear off, eh?"

Kultir scrubs carefully around the tender skin of the eyes and headknobs as he listens to his friend’s comments. “Hmm, she probably will. If I ask anyway.” He sighs softly, wondering if his mate and her green would be coming in for a bath as well. At the gesture, he glances along the dragon’s side and nods approvingly. “It looks like you’re doing well then. I don’t see why it wouldn’t though I can understand that the doing is nothing like the practice … it isn’t for flamethrower practice at least.” The young tracker takes another large handful of sand and begins working down the long neck of the metallic beast, working up a good lather as he scrubs at the sueded hide.

Iaxryth's lids close until his last one is just halfway open as the two teenagers work down his sinewy neck, rumbling idly as the surf washing in over the three of them. "If there's one thing Iax seems to have in spades it is agility, that I will admit." It's something S'yn is immensely grateful for, though he isn't going to verbalize his fears, even to his best friend. Neckridges earn special attention around the base, not wanting the dead skin to build up around those small crevices where the peaks meet the spine. "That's what I've heard; I mean, some dyed ropes are going to fall quite the same way as living spores, right? But it's about as non-lethal as we can make the practice and still be effective." There is a certain timbre to the youth's voice that suggests he's reciting oft heard words as his hands work down to the brassy withers.

Kultir’s hands work methodically and carefully over the coppery hide, his fingers working at the creases at the base of each ridge as he notes that the young bronze’s spine seems to be a bit more creased than Ryadranth’s tends to be. “That is good. Agility should keep you two out of too much trouble … so long as your straps hold.” He glances over at his friend, just spying the youth over the outstretched neck of the dragon. “But you’re not a heavyweight so I doubt you’ll put too much stress on them.” He listens to the change in his brother’s voice and nods slowly. “It can’t be exactly like real Threadfall but they do what they can to prepare you all. I’m more worried about the folks they are putting in charge of flamethrowers … there’s always someone getting singed in practice.”

A soft snort escapes the young rider. "I have no intention of experiencing free fall anytime soon; I check my straps thoroughly every time I put them on." The sack of scrubbing sand is moved to settle between the shoulders before S'yn gathers a double handful to work over the citrus shoulder and foreleg, the sparkly muscled body of his lifemate not terribly unlike his own lanky frame. "Some form of practice is better than going in raw and wet behind the ears though." Iaxryth snorts from underneath the waves, rinsing off his skull and upper neck in the salty surf, earning a wet smack against the shoulder by his chosen. "Hush you." The teenager shakes his head before returning to scrubbing and slowly crouching to reach the lower parts still in the water. "I hope you're wearing something thick then. Feels like our options are roast to death or get burned." A faint chuckle. "Not very fun either way."

Grinning at his brother’s snort, Kultir laughs softly and nods with satisfaction. “Good! I don’t think I would want to experience that either.” The tracker splashes a little as he moves toward the tail end of the lanky form as he continues scrubbing carefully over the bright hide, making sure to get every patch of hide clean. At the comment, he looks up in confusion before he realizes his friend is talking to the dragon again. “Yeah, I wear pretty thick leathers I found in storage, not my jungle running gear which is thinner and more supple. I’ve been lucky so far but there will come a time when I’m distracted and then it’ll happen. I just know it.”

"I hope not; I might have to come give them a taste of what that's like." There is a faint scowl on the boy's face and it's hard to tell whether S'yn's serious or not about it, though clearly protective of the man he calls brother. Sand is scooped and dampened and hands move with quiet efficiency down the long side of the bronze, working his way over the flowing but lean muscles in circular scrubbing patterns. "Aside from ground crew practice, what else have you been up to?" The inquiry is absently curious, the rider having been distracted between duty and other obligations to really spend much time with his friend or anyone else, for that matter.

Kultir chuckles softly at the veiled threat his brother makes and shakes his head slightly. “You shouldn’t even be thinking that, Sy. You’re a rider now and riders don’t fight or anything like that.” His eyes are warm as he looks at the younger man before returning to the careful scrubbing of the copper hide. “Well, when it was raining I was pretty much stuck around the Weyr so I barely got anything but errands for the Weyr done. I finally was able to get back out and run my traplines and I’ve got another hunting trek scheduled in a couple days.”

S'yn sighs softly. "Not that I could do anything if they did." There is a faint grumble of irritation for his scrawniness, despite the hard work he does. If only he could stop growing up so he could fill out a bit. Oh, the woes of teenage boys. "I suppose we've both been pretty busy with our respective duties." The hands move over the haunches after relocating the sand bag to the base of the tail for their use. "We should try to make time for you, me and Aleile to go someplace for a picnic or something." Iaxryth lifts his hind foot to let the rider scrub around the toes. "Feels like we're all too busy these days."

Hearing the irritation in his best friend’s voice, Kultir peers at the youth over the dragon’s tail and frowns slightly. “Hey, it isn’t your fault, Sy. You can’t take care of everyone, you know? Concentrate on yourself and Ali … I’ll keep taking care of myself.” Taking another handful of the sand, he wets it and begins scrubbing at the hindquarters of the coppery beast. “Hmm, yes, we should. Seems like there’s nothing but work to do … I don’t get to see you two very much anymore.” He sighs softly and rolls his shoulders in a shrug as he bends to reach the lower portions beneath the waterline.

“Don’t feel like much of a friend if I don’t at least try,” S’yn whines a little petulantly, though his heart seems to be in the right place even if his attitude isn’t. His belly grumbles at him as he scrubs down the brassy tail of his bond, revealing one possible reason for his crankiness. “And I do concentrate on me and Ali, but I care about you too, you dimglow.” More sand and suds and soon he’s working his way down the ridges and nearing the tail fork. “All work and no play makes life very dull.” Gotta be a kid sometime, right? “Maybe when you get back from your hunting trip we’ll have some free time and can do something. Anything.”

Kultir grins at his brother as he continues his scrubbing, moving on down to the tail on his side as well. “You are a great friend, Sy. And I know you care about me too, just as I care for you and Ali.” He can’t hear the grumbling of his friend’s stomach, but he can feel his own and figures the younger man is feeling the same way. “Maybe we can. I’ll be gone about five, maybe six, days on this next hunt … we’re leaving shortly after next Threadfall so we have as much time as we can to get where we need to go.” Another handful of sand is taken as the tracker scrubs down to the tailfork and works alongside the young rider. “Once I’m back, we’ll do something … maybe go somewhere and just be ourselves, okay?”

S'yn nods as he finishes scrubbing the beast and snatches up the now empty sack of sand, the bronze slithering away to rinse in the deep waters of the Azov. "All right. Hopefully after you get back it'll be around a rest day; I'll try to trade for it if nothing else." Wading back toward the shore the young rider cinches the sack up before tossing it into the satchel and he watches Iaxryth rolling in the waves to rinse off the suds and leave the burned hide gleaming in Rukbat's beaming rays. "Come and find me when you get back in; we'll figure out something." He slings the satchel over his shoulder again, his lifemate finally coming out of the water to drip across the beach. "I'm going to get back to the Weyr and oil him then get some lunch. I'm starving after drills. Looks like the tide's starting to come in so I'm sure you need to finish up your scavenging, yeah?"

Kultir wades back toward the shore to collect his net bag and sling it back around his shoulders. Grinning at the younger man, he nods and claps the youth on the shoulder in gentle, brotherly affection. “I will do that, Sy. I promise. And I’ll be back for at least a sevenday before I go out again.” Sighing heavily, he nods at the observation that the tide is coming back in. “Yes, and I promised a full bag of the mussels so I won’t be in till the bag is full.” He shrugs slightly as he turns to move back to the tidepools he’s been working in, grinning back over his shoulder as he walks away and waves. “See you.”

“I’ll hold you to it.” S’yn grins at the tracker toothily. “Good hunting then, both with that and your trip. I’ll see you when you get back if nothing else.” Iaxryth launches skyward after dripping away most of the seawater from his gleaming hide, casting a brief shadow over them as he wheels about to head back toward the Weyr. The rider’s hand raises in farewell as the satchel is adjusted and he turns to head in that direction back along the boardwalk himself. “See you, Kul.” And that said he saunters off to feed his famished frame and lubricate his lifemate.

Add a New Comment