Who

Majel, Sacitca

What

Friends from the bazaar compare notes on how they're adjusting to their respective lives after their shared candidacy.

When

It is late afternoon of the twenty-fifth day of the seventh month of the first turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Lake Shore, Igen Weyr

OOC Date

 

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Lake Shore

Sprawled out beyond the Weyr proper's hustling activity and ambling roads, the cool, blue paradise of the Weyr lake promises escape from the oppressive hammer of Igen summer's cruel climes; the asymmetrical, sandy white shores hook delicately around the deceptively still waters running deep and sure, greedy peninsulas reaching white fingers stretching in crooked lines towards its center. A sturdy shack, weather-beaten and brown as cured leather, resides in isolated splendor upon one such finger, screened shelving offering a variety of brushes and fragrant oils housed in colorful tureens. Out beyond a small and dusty paddock ringed by a white fence, a long rocky pier stabs out into the lake, providing a panoramic view of the Weyr itself, while the southern shores provide varied shrubs and grassed for the massed herds in their pens.


With weyrling classes having officially been dismissed within the past hour and small dragons having been fed, a few pairs wrap up baths at the lake before taking their charges back to the barracks so that they can dash to the lower caverns for dinner. As the sun dips into the horizon and shades everything a warm gold, Majel lingers some distance from the others, perched atop a rock as dark Dyxath wiggles himself deeper into the warm sand of the shore to allow his freshly-washed hide to dry, wings held carefully up and off of the ground. Her eyes are closed; his are not, though they swirl a slow green as he watches the occasional foot and flight traffic pass nearby and overhead.

In the time since the Hatching, it would not be a lie to say that Sacitca has perhaps been avoiding the Weyrlings just a little bit. Today, however, finds her roaming former Candidate stomping grounds - and smiling when she spots Majel. After a moment's falter, she approaches her former fellow Bazaarian, eying Dyxath briefly as she does so. "My greetings to you and yours," she tells the dragon, since he appears to be the one listening, formally. "Majel…hello." Unsure of what else to say, Sacitca simply waits.

Dyxath straightens; sitting up, his growth of the first couple of months is more immediately obvious. He's certainly large enough for a small child to sit comfortably atop, although it appears to be a while yet before he'll able to support his own rider. His rumbling greeting is polite and curious, muzzle extending forward to whuffle at the pretty trader. "Sacitca, you remember Dyxath, of course, " Majel says calmly before opening her eyes, expression pleased. "I was hoping we'd run into you before now - it's very good to see you. How are you? How's business?" Scooting over slightly, she gestures for the other to join her on the rock. "Come sit with me, if you've time. We're headed back soon, but wanted to get away from the crowds for a few minutes." Few physical changes are immediately apparent on the former merchant, save for the obvious: her hair is trimmed to curl about her ears; there's the lean promise of muscle to come in her upper arms; her outer calm is a little more weathered, the byproduct of irregular sleeping hours, constant physical exertion and no doubt the adjustment to the bond that all new riders must make.

"Of course, although I don't believe there was time for introductions that night." Sacitca answers, hesitating a moment before moving past the dragon to perch upon the rock next to his rider. She smooths her dress out once she's sat, a nervous habit leftover from childhood. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude.. Have you been well, Majel?" Her friend is eyed carefully, though Sacitca turns her eyes out toward the lake again. "How is he? How are you adjusting?" Questions returned for questions, though after a brief hesitation, she finally answers the questions posed to her. "I'm doing well. Business is in my sister's hands for now, so I'm not sure."

"Hardly, " Majel agrees with a slight tilt of her head. "I think that one passed by even more quickly than the first one I participated in." There's a moment where she hesitates, too, before carefully reaching with the intent to briefly clasp Sacitca's hand. "You aren't intruding." The corners of her mouth tug upward, half-smile wry. "We're well enough. He's, " and hazel eyes turn fondly to the little blue before returning to her friend's, "incredibly complex. Clever. Dry-humored." She loves him. It's in the warmth of her praise, the thoughtful adjectives and the flicker of the occasional half-distant look that signifies some communication. "The adjustment, " she continues, "is ongoing. It's challenging to learn to grow as a unit and at the same time, to want to feel somewhat maternal toward him. He's still a baby, even if he's getting to be a larger one every day." There's an eyebrow arch for Saci's replies, followed by a searching look. "They haven't forgiven you yet, I take it."

The gesture earns a small smile from the merchant, and a squeeze of hands. "If you say so, Majel." When conversation returns to the dragon, Sacitca turns her eyes back to the blue for a long moment. "Well, so long as you're happy.. How long until you start flying with him?" Curiosity has often been Sacitca's middle name, after all. "They haven't, not really, no. But nor have I actively sought it. I'm not sure…that I'm ready to be forgiven." Whatever that means. A delicate shoulder shrugs. "How is everyone else? Are they all adjusting well?" The question bombardment it is! Even if it passes in the form of distraction from her own life.

Majel returns that little squeeze with a quiet exhale. "I do say so. You're a friend, of course." A more sheepish, easily embarrassed person might hedge a direct statement, bashful; true to form, the bluerider-in-training formalizes their friendship with an even steadiness, despite Dyxath's small croon at their feet. "A couple of months yet, I think, but we're already learning how to make a safe, effective set of riding straps." It isn't without its badges of courage, this phase of their training, as she wiggles a bandaged finger between them. "I've stabbed myself once while punching holes thus far, which I hear isn't bad compared to how many tend to end up with awl puncture wounds." She studies the other woman a moment more. "So long as you're happy, " she returns in kind, nodding. An able deflector in her own right, she permits another smile to twitch at her mouth for the subsequent inquiries. "I can't speak for all thirty-nine of the other pairs, but I suppose everyone's trying to adjust in his or her own way." They have little choice but to do so, after all. "There's - so much to consider that we didn't have before." Instead of finishing that thought, she checks the position of Rukbat and slides easily to the ground. "I need to take this fellow home, but I'm going to grab dinner in the caverns afterward. You're welcome to join me, if you'd like. Might run into a few more familiar faces at dinner."

There are a couple sympathetic chuckles at the mention of stabbing oneself trying to stitch straps, and Sacitca nods her understanding a couple of times. "I imagine it has it's hardships." She agrees. Those hardships are outside of Sacitca's imaginings, however, and she doesn't press to find out more, not now. At the other's words, she nods understanding, and bites her lip lightly. "You know…I think I will. It'll be good to see everyone again." A cheery smile crosses her lips, and it's even not faked. "So long as the others won't mind, at least. But..I'll see you there, so we can find out then?" The perfumist will slip off of the rock carefully, and wait a moment for the other. "Or at least, I hope to." A glance is cast toward the Bazaar briefly. "Either way…I'll see you later?" If not today, then another.

"It can feel like a haphazard table as people run in and leave as needed depending on their dragons' needs, " Majel forewarns, "but we could always grab something smaller in the corner. I sometimes do, just to try to find a quieter space where everyone else isn't talking another's ear off about today's lessons." She already has to go to sleep and wake up with these people and topics, says her dry tone. "I'll look for you, but if not tonight - yes, later. Sooner, rather than." Dyxath gets to his feet, all angles and boxy outlines. There's a polite rumble of farewell for his Majel's friend before he falls into step with the tailor, loping awkwardly next to her as they head for the northern end of the weyr proper.

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