Who

Dione & S'yn

What

Dione explores the outskirts of the Weyr to discover reprieve from the rain and gives a dance lesson to the rider already occupying the sheltered overhang.

When

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

Where

Rainbow Rock Overhang, Southern Weyr

OOC Date

 

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Rainbow Rock Overhang

Nestled among the thick jungle foliage that crowds the base of the long dormant volcano, a time-worn surprise awaits brave adventurers who traipse this little known path away from the hustle and bustle of civilization. Eroded by wind and water, the wide berth of the mountain has been cut away to reveal a technicolor mural of layers in variegated hues within the dark rock. Sandstone, slate, limestone and malachite are embedded within the etched and smoothed stone exposed by the ravages of time, awaiting discovery. The sheltering edifice is at least a couple of dragonlengths high and juts outward several more to provide protection for man and dragon alike from rain and shine, allowing for several pairs to seek cover under its rocky wing. A flat stone bench is here, providing a place to sit and enjoy the view, the steamy jungle just as full of life and color as the once hidden rocks peering out from beneath that earthen brow.


For all that it is mid-day it is impossible to tell, Rukbat utterly obscured by the black clouds that hang over Southern for the umpteenth day in a row, dumping their seasonal deluge of liquid across the jungle Weyr. The rain falls in heavy drops that splat and turn the ground utterly sodden where it is not reinforced by stone or other means, a steady pattering of white noise to drown many of the usual sounds of the rainforest. Though much of the Weyr is soaked by this outpouring, a young rider and dragon have managed to find solace from people and precipitation along the outer ring of the caldera beneath a jutting overhang that is carved into the base of the dormant volcano, revealing multi-colored layers of rock in a pattern that marks the passage of time for this worn earth. The roof of this overhang juts out a good several dragonlengths to provide more than adequate shelter for the bronze Iaxryth, curled up on the worn stone beneath the concave carving out of the mountainside and watching the rain falling. S'yn is perched on a stone bench that has been setup under the overhang, legs stretched out before him and joining his dragon in that contemplation as the boy partakes of his lunch in relative peace, the idea of sitting among his peers in the living caverns utterly unbearable. It's quite noticeably dry beneath the jutting cliff face, perhaps even pleasant, though the humidity hangs thick in the air just like anywhere else, but the cool weather keeps it from being sticky, leading the rider to wearing his repaired flight leathers to ward off the mild chill.

When the rain comes down like this, hissing and thundering and drowning out general Weyr life, some people get antsy. Dione is one of them. Woken from a sound sleep by the renewed rainfall, she looked outside, grimaced, dressed up warmly and practically, and reached for her umbrella. The oiled-paper-and-wood contraption is quite large enough to keep her dry to the hips, and the slow slog through mud and over grass, past beach sand and away from people is doing wonders for her mindset. She reaches the overhang quite by chance, having decided to wander around in another direction that day — after all, jogging in the muddy confines of the bowl is asking for a broken neck. There's a brief shake once she's underneath the jutting stone lip, and a wiggle of the umbrella to get waterdrops off it before she ambles inwards, thoroughly enchanted. S'yn's presence is noted some few steps in, and she smiles readily at the pair, lingering as if uncertain of her welcome. They look very peaceful, after all.

The sound of footsteps and disturbed foliage are enough to draw S'yn from his reverie and repast, the youth looking toward the sound and spying the bartender. Her presence earns a smile and he scoots over a bit to give her room on the bench should she choose to take it. "Afternoon," he offers simply, taking a sip of his klah mug, a Smith invented thermos tucked beside him along with his half eaten lunch — some sort of flatbread wrapped thing — and a book. "Didn't think anyone else really came out here." It's not a shooing, more an observation. "Care to join me?" He gestures helpfully at the bare, dry stone slab to his left. "Probably the driest place in Southern right now."

Dione does indeed choose to take it. Her walk, whilst not a run, has been brisk enough that her legs would probably appreciate a little break. She stamps most of the mud off at the edge of the overhang, ventures inside and gives Iaxryth a little pat against the side of the muzzle with a "Good morning, Iaxryth, how're the injuries healing?" She flops down on the bit of cleared bench, stretching her legs out to examine the mud remaining on the stout walking shoes. "This is new for me — the overhang, that is. I normally don't walk out in this direction, especially not when it's not raining like this, but it did seem it would be more covered. This is a find." She smiles at him. "Is this your special place?"

Iaxryth rumbles in a friendly manner when the woman slides by and pets him gently, the eyes whirling a little more attentively than they had been in rich shades of blue-green. « Well enough, though not as fast as I wish. You are looking lovely as ever. » His mindvoice carries hints of aged paper and freshly snuffed candles to it, warm and rich in its baritone timbre. The bronze's left side is slathered in a fresh coat of numbweed to protect the healing score and numb it from the sting, not to mention protect it from infection. S'yn's smile is wry as the dragon attempts to get on the woman's good side. "Iax, don't be a cad." He offers her a faintly apologetic expression. "I found it a while ago; it's a good spot to get away and be alone with ones thoughts, or perhaps with company, for a more exclusive conversation." As in one not interspersed between the cacophonous sounds of the Weyr's body of residents at mealtimes. "I was tired of being stuck inside at meals, thought I'd bring lunch out here today."

The bronze's voice in her mind gets a slow, nervous blink and a shake of her head, as if there's a rustle in there that Dione's mind can't quite sort out. "That's a very strange feeling… thank you." She's still blinking seconds later when S'yn explains his reasoning; when she's finally ready to sit back and just let the feeling sink into the back of her thoughts, there's a grin. "Fair deal. Instead of dealing with fifty people that might be impinging on your attention, you have to deal with one that definitely will. I am not certain how this equation is better for you in the long run."

"It does take some getting used to, doesn't it?" S'yn recalls his first few sevendays with that strange new thought pattern inside his own mind and shakes his head softly at it. Klah mug is lifted and sipped from again before setting down on the stone and he takes up his flatbread wrap once more. "Well, at least out here I get a choice of whose company I keep. Inside the living caverns, not so much." Pesky bronzerider's knot, not to mention still being a subject of fascination due to his age. "Sevreni told me there was going to be a dance at the Kitten in a few sevens. You looking forward to that?" It could be a mixed blessing in his eyes: extra business, but also extra work. "Been thinking about if I should go, s'pose it depends on my leg."

Dione lifts a finger to tap at the side of her head, as if trying to touch the smoke and paper deep inside. There's a frown at such complete sensory sharing, a not-sure-she-likes-it; S'yn is discussing the dance before she's able to quiet her mind again. "Hm? Oh, yes. It probably won't be any busier than a normal night these days, and probably less so, given that not everyone'll be sitting around drinking, but dancing and talking more. You know. Unless we get pirates with hollow peg legs or something." The weak joke makes her grimace. "I'd like to get in a bit of dancing at least; it'd be good if you could come as well, but if your leg is bothering you too much don't think too much about it. I'm sure she'll understand."

Taking a bite of his half eaten flatbread thing, S'yn glances toward Iaxryth with a frown for the intrusion into the bartender's mind. There is a bit of mental dialog from the momentary glazing of his eyes but soon he's back with Dione. "We'll see, I suppose. I'm trying not to have two left feet when it comes down to it." He chuckles ruefully at his gangling limbs being less than ideal for being graceful — at least as of yet — and takes another bite of the wrap, noshing through it even as her weak joke earns a faint snort. Clearing his mouth he shakes his head. "Nah, it's lots better, really, the numbweed helps keep it from aching. I'd like to go and meet people, maybe try my luck." Though what luck isn't clear. "I hope you get a chance to dance. Maybe you can laugh at my two left feet."

"I see," Dione says gravely. "Two left feet, hm? It sounds as if you've just not been told how to do it, hm?" She can't imagine the last two Turns being filled with dancing lessons. "Come on, I'll give you a little lesson so that you can impress all the girls." She waits for him to be done with lunch, taking the time to stroke Iaxryth's hide instead, thoughtfully, as if some point's been brought to life for her — they really are strange creatures, and personalities in their own right. Once done, she stands and turns to face the rider half of the pair, leaning the umbrella carefully to the side. "I'll take it carefully on your leg, don't worry."

"Well," S'yn begins around his mouthful before thinking better of it and closes his mouth to finish chewing and swallowing that bite. "Well, Aleile has been helping me some after her lessons, since she seems to be imbued with the grace of a feline. I'm more like a shambling wherry according to Iaxryth." The dragon gets a mock glare as he takes another bite of his wrap. The bronze for his part is unfazed, his eyes swirling a liquid blue-green like shifting ocean currents behind the delicate facets, leaning into the bartender's touches. « Are you //sure you want to do that with him? He's apt to step on your toes. » // The rumbling baritone isn't entirely unlike his rider's, but it's deeper and more liquid with the confidence and panache the creature has in his own right, a confidence the youth hasn't quite developed. The boy snorts softly at his bond's assertion. "Shut up, Iax." And back to the rapid noshing to finish those last few bites in boyish fashion.

Dione's nose wrinkles. "All the better for you to surprise her with a dance at the event then, and be a good dancer. A young man shouldn't neglect the ladies in his life, right?" There, at least, it seems she's of the same opinion as the hulking bronze, and she even gives him another pat against the side. "Toes are meant to be stepped on for good causes," she notes to the dragon. "And I have stout shoes on, so he can stamp away if he wants." She hms as she swings away, looking for a tolerably level part of the overhang's floor. Finding it, sweeping the sand there smooth with her one foot, she turns to wait for S'yn.

The bartender's suggestion earns a faint warming of the bronzerider's cheeks, but fortunately his full mouth prevents S'yn from saying something inane. Instead he just nods as his jaw works around that too big mouthful and finally gets it down, washing the remaining bits with the last of the klah in his mug, finally ready to join Dione. He pushes himself upright off the stone bench to walk over to her, walking a little stiffly at first though he gently stretches once he reaches the flat, dry surface to return a reasonable range of motion to the cooled, scored flesh. "So, what kind of a dance do you do? Because she's been showing me the slow kinds. Those I can kind of do." At least they don't require him to gyrate wildly on an injured leg. "Like, waltzes and stuff?" Iaxryth turns to watch the pair with obvious scrutiny, the eyes whirling a faster pace and a deep shade of pulsar blue, a low rumble that might be a chuckle rolling from the large chest, earning a brief squint from the rider before he makes himself pay attention to his female companion only.

She awaits him there, arms curled around her middle, and there's a faint smile on her face as she watches him join her. "Well. There are fast ones and slow ones, that you know, but I don't think your leg will hold up to one of the faster trots right now, and this place isn't perfectly level in any case. We don't want you to tear that score wider. It's good that she taught you those though, with your looks it's fair game that you'd not lack for partners." Dione steps closer, places her left hand on his right shoulder, and holds out her right. "Show me what she taught you, and hum if you want, so that I've a clear idea of what you can do? It's really more logical than many people think. Don't worry about my toes. As I said, they're sufficiently shielded from harm at the moment."

"Yeah, probably not the best idea for me to try something hectic yet, but I think I could do something slowly. Aleile and I manage anyway." S'yn's a little more flustered to do it around the bartender since they're just getting to know one another and his bronze teases him incessantly about her appearance. Her commentary about his looks earns a faint expression of surprise, having not really thought much about them, though the rider swallows nervously and steps forward to take her hand as she offers it and wraps her left over his shoulder. The youth does his best to shut out his lifemate's chatter as his lays his right hand on Dione's left shoulder blade, knowing he'll just get more flustered by it. "All right." Feet are together and he concentrates on the advice he's been given: knees loose, back straight, elbows at shoulder height — though that is done at the bartender's since his own would just be ridiculous to attempt — and smile! The last part is a little harder since he's concentrating so hard, but the beats Aleile has drummed into him do come to mind easily enough, allowing him to start mentally counting in a rhythm. Left foot goes forward, right foot goes forward but diagonally, leaving feet about shoulder width apart, then the left foot comes in sideways to rejoin its mate. To complete the box he continues, right foot going straight back, left back diagonally, and then right brought sideways to join left, leaving them back where they started. The movements get a little looser as he goes through them, the stiffness in his leg easing as it is used again and he hopefully hasn't stepped on her overmuch.

He has excellent posture, That Dione will readily admit, and so she's easy enough to hold close-ish. The gentle rhythm gets no tips from her, as she's content to sway slowly back and forth in the pattern that he's building. Her steps mirror his, reversed, and she hums a soft tune as they go around and around. Really, it's more about getting him comfortable with dancing with a woman, and that's not going to happen with pointers along the way. "You're lucky that you're a guy. The woman is more or less forced to go where you lead… right, now another repetition. Slide your hand down a little, to above my waist if the waist is too low for you."

"But being a guy means I have to know what in Faranth's name I'm doing. That's harder." Oh the woes of maleness. S'yn's cheeks warm at the idea of putting his hand lower, but he does relax his arm and lets his long limb lower to slide his hand down to her waist, as per his instructions. "Good thing I've got long arms to go with my long frame." He's trying to joke to lighten the mood a bit, but he's weaving and stepping with growing confidence as Dione sways with him, the beat of that chant in his mind providing rather good time that quickens a little more until they are moving fluidly in that box. After several cycles his hips and knees relax to allow his movements to be more fluid and natural, unfettered by the concerns of a young male's mind as he gets wrapped up in the motions, allowing him to shut out Iaxryth. One the diagonal step toward his companion he guides her out into a pivot and then back, starting to add some of the flourishes he'd been learning, smiling much more naturally as he starts having some fun with it.

Dione sways gently, spinning out into the pivot and back in, grinning in victory. "That's it!" she crows happily and her hands squeeze down gently on him. "Just like that. It's about getting comfortable enough to feel the other things, the closeness and intimacy with your partner. If you can manage the movements for the slow ones, you can manage the fast ones as well. I tell you what. Dancing is good exercise too; if your leg doesn't hurt why don't we meet up here every day until the dance, and by that time you'll be so comfortable doing it you won't even feel strange." One hand, the one previously on his shoulder, lifts to pat gently at the top of his head, then his cheek before it finally moves back to his shoulders. "And if you can, dance a little with your brother's weyrmate as well, and above all, go through your closet to see if you have something nice, okay?" All the advice is delivered in an older sister tone of voice, brisk but courteous. "If you're not sure, feel free to come and show me, and I'll tell you if it's nice enough."

Now that S'yn's worrying less about the closeness of their bodies and stepping on his companion's toes, he actually enjoys the flowing movements and the poetry of their bodies gyrating together. He grins at her praise, the gloomy weather not seeing so bad with present company and the fun they're having. On one of the backward steps he rotates her around with the hand he is clasping before drawing her back so she is against him once more, hand returning to hip. Her sisterly pats earn laughter, soft but warm, amber eyes sparkling as he temporarily forgets about his injury until she reminds him. "That sounds way better than just sitting up in my weyr reading all day." He continues those steps and the rhythm becomes automatic rather than forced, the gangly limbs surprisingly graceful when he isn't trying so hard. "I'll be sure to do that, Dione. Thank you for the advice." His thanks and expression are sincere; he doesn't want to look a fool after all.

That's the idea; get the guy so used to the steps that he's able to relax into them and not worry about where he's putting his feet. "And you didn't even step on my toes," Dione teases as she twirls out past them, then in, and finally gently sways to a stop. She extricates herself from his arms and, leaning down, gently rests the back of her hand to the score's location, trying to feel whether it's stressed out. "How does this feel? Ready to continue on tomorrow?" Brisk again, she straightens easily and meanders back to the bench, taking her umbrella. "I'm going to go and try sleeping a bit again, but promise me you'll take it easy from now on, okay? I really want to see you at the party."

Despite the interlude between them being brief, it seems to have imbued the young rider with a great deal more confidence since he's dancing with someone else and not utterly mucking it up. One might even say he's doing it rather well. Once they stop swaying S'yn holds Dione for about two seconds before releasing hand and hip to allow her to step back and glances down when she touches the score's location and finds it doesn't really bother him at all, though it's hard to say how much is the numbweed and how much is genuine healing. "It feels fine; I think we'll be good." The youth finds himself looking forward to it as he moves toward the bench alongside her, gathering his own things now that his lunch is done. "I will, I promise." There is a youthful exuberance in his expression as he tucks book into satchel along with the thermos and shakes out the cloth napkin that held his lunch of the few remaining crumbs before stuffing back in also, the small leather pack slung over his shoulder. "C'mon, I'll walk you back." Arm is offered to her then as Iaxryth shuffles to his feet once more, the bronze walking alongside the pair and providing his wing as a much better umbrella even as the three of them amble back to the sodden Weyr they call home.

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