Devana, F'kan & Quaverilth


F'kan runs across Devana, a wildling, while out on sweeps and learns an important lesson. Don't sneak up on a woman with a bow.


It is midmorning of the fourth day of the fifth month of the thirteenth turn of the 12th pass.


Jungle, Southern Weyr

OOC Date 28 Feb 2018 05:00


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"Those are some mighty fine reflexes you have there Miss."



As the clearing is left behind, a deep silence permeates and soaks into the very ground that towering trees grow out of, accompanied by the humid heat of the enclosed rainforest. The silence is broken by the chittering call of wild firelizards, the chirruping of distant avians, and the ominous rustling of large, feline predators that stalk the deeper, heart of the jungle. Vines drape from the trees, falling to the jungle floor, which carries the hint of decay. Water drips from the canopy above, the soft sound almost musical against the echoing call of the jungles denizens. Westward, with the tangled overgrowth and the shadows of the deeper rainforest, the forest looms dangerous.
The area is thickly forested with many banyan and sandalwood trees.

It is the thirty-fourth day of Autumn and 43 degrees. Clouds hang heavy in the sky, driven by a hard wind. A storm threatens on the horizon, towering thunderclouds caught over the mountains. Only a light drizzle falls here and there throughout the day.

The jungle is a place of wind-borne whispers today, dim and cold in the stormy autumn morning. While it isn't truly raining, moisture is teased through the foliage every now and then, just enough for a certain long-haired wildling tracker to wear a drab green hooded oilskin over the fitted garb she prefers for her choice of activities today. A quiver of arrows sits at one hip, a large pouch at the other, her bow slung across her body from shoulder to hip to allow her the freedom to move as she will while not actively hunting. For the moment, the young woman is crouched in the fork of a banyan's roots, belt knife in hand and pouch open as she quietly picks through a patch of something currently obscured by her positioning.

« I'm telling you I saw something in the jungle down there. » The brown Quaverilth is relaying to his rider as they begin their sweeps over the thick jungles, galaxy painted wingsails dipping as he angles down for a closer look, soaring low enough now that the leaves of the jungle vegetation rustle with his passing. » Well now they know someone's seen them. You might as well land and let me have a look. If it was an animal they'll be long gone. « F'kan indicates his dragon should land in a nearby clearing.

Dim though it may be, the passage of a dragon overhead casts an unmistakeable shadow, even for the briefest moment. The wind of their wings passing so low is unmistakeable as well, and unavoidably attention-grabbing. Devana peers up through the canopy to see if she can spot the beast, perhaps even tell what color it might be. They're a more common sight lately, she's noticed. Word has it that it's due to the upheaval caused by the recent storm, so at least she knows they aren't just being nosy. Whether or not they'll come back around, she doesn't know, so drops her attention once more to her patch of moss and mushrooms, cutting free a likely-looking sample of the former and bringing it to her nose to sniff appraisingly.

After dismounting and leaving Quaverilth behind in the clearing, F'kan wanders into the thicker jungle, bright blue eyes wandering the thick undergrowth carefully although he looks rather unconvinced that he will be finding anything. He's wearing his riding leathers, dyed a very dark brown, over his left shoulder he wears a pauldron and the knot of a Lynx wingrider. His sandy blond hair is tousled from the wind of his flight here. » Ok you great brute, there's nothing he… « And that's when his gaze comes to rest on the oilskin covered form bent to a task. So he clears his throat loudly in the hopes of getting the person's attention.

Though Devana's senses are keen from a life of hunting and tracking, there are times when the wind refuses to be an ally. She doesn't hear the dragon land, nor does she hear approaching footsteps over the rustling and rattling of the flora around her until they're almost upon her. As the clearing of a throat happens, she is one her feet with bow in hand and an arrow nocked in one fluid set of efficient movement, quick enough that the hood falls back from her head. Brandy-bright eyes settle keenly on the brownrider's blue, full lips pressing into a controlled line as she takes him in as a non-threat, and she's able to curb the motion of making a full draw, the point of her arrow settling down and away. "Take care, dragonman," lilts her low soprano, a dark brow arching ruefully. "Someone else might ha' pulled fully on ye and not stopped."

And now he has an arrow pointed at him. What is it with F'kan and women? The sandy-haired young man puts up his hands and freezes, a half-smile creeping over his lips, as he chuckles nervously. "Then I'm very glad someone else isn't standing in front of me. Those are some mighty fine reflexes you have there Miss." And then he tries to swallow past the lump that has risen into his throat as she lowers the arrow. Finally he lets his hands lower very slowly but doesn't move closer. "I'm sorry to have startled you like that. I'm F'kan, brown Quaverilth's of Southern Weyr. My dragon thought he saw someone down here and we are still looking for some people missing from Black Rock Hold after that big storm a few sevens ago." See? He has a perfectly good reasons to be creeping up on girls in jungles.

A smirk tugs at the corner of the wildling woman's mouth as she utters a soft, "Hm," taking her arrow off the string and slipping it back into her quiver. "Well, your dragon was right in seeing someone, sure enough," she notes, re-slinging her bow and settling a hand on her hip as her stance relaxes. "Devana of the Erdou," she returns with a dip of her head. "People from the Black Rock missing all the way out here? Eh, I suppose anything's possible, especially with that lot." Her chin jerks his way subtly, sharp brown gaze flicking to his shoulder to make a speculative study of the pauldron, then his curiously-hued eyes. At least, she finds them curious, being an uncommon hue among wildlings. "Any particular number or names to keep watch for? Seems a hunter might have a better chance than most at spotting any."

F'kan relaxes more visibly now as he takes a few tentative steps forward, clearing his throat a little bit to release the tension on his vocal chords as he smiles easily at the woman, taking her in more fully now, eyes travelling in a covert once over. « Stop that, you're working. » There is a cold breeze over the brown's misty mind-lake and it sets the plumes of fog to swirling in it's wake. » I am allowed to look at a woman Quav. « Focusing back on the wildling woman, he bobs his head respectfully, "Well met Devana. And it has been over three sevens so people could be anywhere really. I think we're down to less than a dozen on the missing list. I unfortunately don't have the names or descriptions on me at this time, just asking folks to keep a look out for anyone new to the area"

"Aye, that's not so hard to do," Devana says to F'kan's last with nod, and crouches down by the tree roots again, her knife appearing in her hand to snick away some more moss. She keeps herself turned enough to glance up at the brownrider, however. "Normally I'd ask what to expect in return, being another eye for the Weyr, but…the storm did much damage, and families ought to be mended when they can. Two of ours are broken forever. The wind and water weren't kind." She lifts her head a bit, squinting into the breeze and frowning a bit as though wary of it. "Y'came upon me fast, Blue Eyes. Where's your beast, then?" she asks, inspecting her newest samples before tucking them into her pouch.

F'kan cants his head to one side to look to see what she's doing crouching over there, but doesn't want to intrude of course. "My deepest condolences for the losses you and yours have suffered." he says in a softly rumbling voice as he shakes his head before running his fingers through his messy blond hair. "We've had some losses at the Weyr as well, it seems that storm will be felt by many for a time to come." A long sigh is given as he is lost in his thought so that when she next speak he is taken unawares, and her nickname for him seems to bring a very un-manly blush to briefly color his cheeks, good thing she's inspecting her samples because it takes a moment of clearing his throat to get his color to come back down again. "Quaverilth is just in a clearing over there, he's got a light touch when he wants. Would you like to meet him? He's always up to meeting new people." His smile turns warm in her direction as he indicates the direction of his mount with one hand while offering her a hand up with the other.

Devana utters a thoughtful hum as she tucks away the moss, turning slightly to carefully cut away a mushroom this time. "Likewise to you and the Weyr. Disaster doesn't discriminate. Much like Thread, aye?" With her head down the entire time, she is indeed unaware of the blush she's caused until F'kan clears his throat, causing her to glance up at him curiously. A rather mischievous smirk tugs at her lips when she suspects that she's flustered him, and she chuckles just before he makes his offer for her to meet his dragon. Oh, she might have a bit of fun with this one. "My mother would start another storm herself to know I'd come near a dragon," she notes with a sigh, tucking some mushrooms into her pouch. Closing it, she gives another impish smile and swiftly rises, brushing off her fingers. "How could I refuse, then?" Belatedly, she notices that his hand is out, not having seen that it was there for her to take. Whoops. "Is holding your hand a requirement on the way to meet your beast?" she asks with an arch of her brow, though there is most certainly teasing in brandy-bright eyes.

F'kan rubs a hand through his toussled hair as he watches her finish her collection, at her observation on disaster and thread, he nods thoughtfully. "How true." The brownrider chuckles at the mention of a mother's wrath, but when Devana accepts anyway, a faintly roguish grin quirked in her direction. "I really don't think you can." he says of refusing his offer. When he realizes that his hand is still out there and she is asking about holding it, the ruddiness of in his cheeks returning brieflt as he clears his throat again. « Sire? Have you actually forgotten how to interact with a woman? » The amused tone sending his mind mist twirling around F'kan. From the clearing a rubling warble can be heard, that could almost be laughter if a dragon could laugh of course. "No, of course not, that was just in case you needed a hand up..which you obviously did not. Right this way." he starts walking now in the direction of the clearing, silently cursing his dragon who is loving this.

And now that Devana has discovered that she can make a dragonrider blush, she is most definitely going to leverage the fact at any given opportunity. Assuming it's this particular dragonrider she might end up crossing paths with again. The grin that curves her lips as she follows F'kan is haughtily amused as she thinks of what else she might get away with. "How long has your dragon had ye, Blue Eyes?" she asks as she instinctively picks her quietest way along just slightly behind the brownrider. "You seem of an age with me. Maybe. Some think they always choose ye as children, but I hear that isn't always the case."

And there's that nickname again. F'kan can't remember a girl every giving him a nickname. He's given plenty, mainly because it helped not getting names mixed up, which never went down well with the fairer sex in his experience. "Quaverilth found me on the Sands of Southern when I was 18. So just under three Turns now. I was older than some, but not the oldest out there." he says of the Weyr always chosing children. "If you're of an age with me, you'd still have several turns before you're too old to stand." As they reach the clearing, Quaverilth's long nose tipped with craggy black sapphire over the brown bark of his wizened face, is right there in the path, as his blue eyes whirl lazily as he focuses on the woman walking behind his lifemate. A low rumble deep in his throat as he dips his head further. "He says he is pleased to meet you." There's a hidden wry quality in the brownrider's voice, as if there was more that passed between rider and dragon than he is relaying.

Perhaps it's a habit Devana has! Or perhaps she just finds this particular man worthy of a nickname. F'kan's answer garners a lift of dark brows and a nod, though his comment on her age and what it would mean were she at the Weyr earns a scoff. "Interesting to know, but I'll not be steppin' foot near these Sands of yours anytime soon," she declares. However, her reaction to seeing Quaverilth might make one wonder whether or not she rethinks her words for a moment. She's seen dragons before, of course, but hasn't been this close to one yet. A sort of wary awe crosses over the subtle fierceness of her features, sharp brown eyes studying the contrast of colors on the brown's visage. Pausing about five long strides away, she absently fingers the hide-wrapped grip of her bow against her chest in an unconscious grounding gesture. "And…I'm pleased to meet him," she returns, dipping her head low to Quaverilth. "His eyes…they're a bit more like cut crystals than ye might think from a distance, aye?" she observes, chancing a half-step closer as though doing so will help her study the focus of her interest more carefully.

"Well I never thought I was going to end up there either, but it happened." F'kan laughs eaily now as he walks over to his brown, putting a hand out to rest on the top of his nose. Quaverilth whuffles softly, sending a soft blast of warm dragon breath in the direction of the wildling woman. He turns his head just slightly so she can get a better look, an encouraging croon in her direction. "He says you can come closer for a better look if you would like to." The brown head now rest on the ground in front of her, totally non-threatening like. "And yes, that's actually a very good comparison. The facets are what make their vision so much better than ours, but they are very fragile as well." He leans, voice dropping to an obvious stage whisper as he grins in the woman's direction, "And he really likes his eyeridges rubbed like this." And F'kan demonstrates, the action causing the brown to melt as he drops the first set of lids over his eyes with a satisfied sigh.

Devana only gives a dubious "hmph" to F'kan's first as she watches him go to his dragon, still rippling her fingers along the handle of her bow. When Quaverilth whuffles, she internally braces, half expecting to find his breath foul and ending up pleasantly surprised. It's simply warm air, and rather welcome at that, given the coolness of the morning. His croon elicits a tilt of her head and a cautious smirk. "Is it, now?" she questions rhetorically over her analogy about the dragon's eyes, watching as the brownrider demonstrates the rubbing his lifemate is so fond of. Her lips press in to a considering line before she steps decisively closer, the hand that isn't fidgeting reaching slowly out toward the brown's eyeridge. Her fingertips brush his hide tentatively at first, dark brows hitching upward in subtle surprise before her touch becomes more sure. "I wasn't expecting him to be so…warm. Or smooth. Looks a bit like a tree's bark at first glance," she observes, glancing over to F'kan with a small smile.

Quaverilth rumbles his pleasure as he feels the wildling's fingers reach out to tentatively touch his ridges, encouranging her further with the barest touch of of mist touching the very edges of her mind. F'kan smiles further and chuckles as he really rubs now harder, elliciting a louder croon from his lifemate, "Isn't it strange? You would expect it to feel as it looks, but it totally doesn't. It's one of my favorite things about him." The way his smile reaches all the way up to his bright blue eyes clearly portraying the raw adoration of rider for his dragon. Suddenly he hikes an eyebrow in question in the woman's direction, another touch of roguishness dancing in his eyes, "You want to see my very favorite bit of him?" He is grinning like an idiot now and he doesn't even know why, but the brownrider is going with it for now.

The more Quaverilth's pleasure increases, the more Devana's smile follows until she can't help but utter a little laugh. Her thoughts drift momentarily to the calm image of rolling mist - at least that's what she assumes is happening - and she shakes it away, wondering why they took a tangent to that of all things. "You're nothing more than a great canine," she teases the dragon as she becomes more confident in her attentions, then looks over and pauses as she notes the genuine adoration in his smile for the great beast. It tugs on something in her chest, seeing that depth of love for this creature so freely expressed. So many judgments and superstitions surround the dragons and riders among the Erdou and others…yet how could they be right when such a thing is seen? "But it's really nothing like that, is it? Not master to beast, but something more," she says quietly, wondering. F'kan's last and the eagerness with which he expresses it earns a wondering little shake of her head and a chuckle. "Aye, why not?"

"Oh it is so much more than that." F'kan says with a wide grin as his eyes unfocus briefly as he speaks with his dragon, who warbles his agreement before lifiting his head so that he can turn himself and move further into the clearing. As his dragon gets himself into position, F'kan walks further into the clearing, beckoning Devana to follow him. When finally Quaverilth settles, sitting back on his haunches, forelimbs tucked under him, very canine like actually. With one final loud rumble, he snaps his massive wings open, revealing the blue, purple and black voids painted there among the swirling stars, whorling into galaxies. The brownrider's blue eyes are intent on the Wildling's face, eagerly awaiting her reaction.

Bemused, Devana watches as F'kan moves away until he beckons her, eyes flicking between dragon and rider as she tries to guess what's next to come. That sudden unfurling of Quaverilth's wings does make her jump, her hand tightening on her bow for a moment as she surveys the prodigious expanse of dragonhide above her. The mild consternation on her features from being startled melts away in favor of an expression of wonderment as the wildling woman steps further in to study the incredible patterns upon the brown's wingsails. "It's as though there's a piece of the sky in him," she notes just above the rushing of the wind through the clearing. "It's amazing. No one would see it unless they chanced to get closer."

When F'kan sees the expression of wonderment take over the woman's face, he can't help but chuckle appreciatively before looking back up at Quaverilth. » I'll never get sick of that. « He relays privately. » You really are a handsome brute mate. « his thoughts are warm with pride for his lifemate. As Devana walks closer to inspect his wingsails, the brown drops his wings lower so she can get a better look if she wishes. "Don't be shy, he doesn't mind if you get a good look." The brownrider will move closer to Quav's forelimb and leans on it casually, crossing his arms over his chest. "So you've really never seen a dragon up close before?" His question has a casual conversation tone to it.

"Nothing shy to me, Blue Eyes," Devana informs F'kan cheekily, lifting her hand to brush her fingertips along Quaverilth's wing. "I've never seen a dragon this close, now. Seen most every hue of hide from a distance, but I've usually had other concerns keeping me from getting more familiar. And," she adds with a little half-shrug, "no offer's come for me to get closer. You're the first to extend it. So…thank you."

"No, I don't believe there is anything shy about you." F'kan chuckles easily as he watches her move closer and then touch Quav's wing, the brown settles a bit further, dropping his wings now so that they drape along his body like a cloak wrapped around his shoulders. "Well, I am glad to oblige, and so is Quav. Better relations between our two groups is kind of one of the things my wing is working on. So I figured what could it hurt." F'kan says with his usual half-grin and a little shrug of his shoulder, although there is a bit of a self-satisfied grin settled onto his lips as his blue eyes continues to watch the Wildling. "Are you good with that?" He asks, nodding his head towards the bow she carries.

Another mischievous smirk appears to curve Devana's lips. "Oh, of course. I'm sure it had nothing to do with wanting to impress the wildling woman y'nearly startled into shooting ye and then made ye blush," she teases as she drops her arm, her hand resting on her hip again. At F'kan's question about her bow, her chin lifts proudly. "Good enough to fire off a shot with each heartbeat, if there were ever a need," she replies confidently. "I've been using it since I was eight. Always more to learn, of course." Unslinging the weapon from across her body, she holds it at the grip and tilts it in casual inspection. "Something ye practice yourself, dragonman, or ye've just an interest?"

When Devana drops her hand, Quaverilth will furl his wings back up onto his back and settles into a half-crouch, a more relaxed posture as he watches the two people with an air of smug amusement. F'kan laughs easily at her first the ruddiness returning to his cheeks, but he just goes with it this time, "So I got to ask then, is it working?" He runs a hand through his sandy lond hair as his blue eyes drop briefly in a rather boyish gesture. His smile broadens as she proudly speaks of her skill with the bow, nodding in appreciation at his words. "Since you were 8 Turns?" He looks genuinely impressed. "So I guess at my age, I've missed my chance to pick it up then huh?"

Is it working? Devana folds her arms, head tilting almost haughtily. "Just what will ye do if I leave ye guessing?" she counters, and can't help but grin as she succeeds in making F'kan's cheeks color yet again. This really is too much fun. "Oh, ye could pick it up," she answers with a short laugh. "And ye might get good by the time your thirty-" Suddenly, the trilling call of an avian - much too loud and clear to be the avian itself - pierces through the whistling of the wind, and Devana lifts her head. It repeats itself quickly, and the wildling woman gives a frustrated little growl, shouldering her bow once more. "Now ye've gone and distracted me, dragonman," she huffs, and cups her hands to her mouth before letting loose an answering trill as she steps back from dragon and rider toward the trees. "Perhaps we'll meet again, Blue Eyes," she says with a smirk, tugging the hood of her oilskin back over her head as she turns to start back from whence she came. A brief, impish glance is cast back over her shoulder before she disappears around the bole of the tree he'd found her at, the wind swallowing any sound of her passage back to her people.

"What could I do?" F'kan says with another shrug of his shoulders in response to her first. Her grin though makes his own smile widen slightly and is about to ask her something before the trilling cry is heard. Quaverilth lifts his head at that, swinging it around to try and pinpoint a direction it was coming from. F'kan raises a brow and chuckles at the idea that he distracted her. "I very much hope so Devana." he replies with all sincerity as he watches her leave, a soft sigh on his lips. « So, she was nice… » Shaking his head at his brown, F'kan chuckles. "Don't even Quav. Don't forget, I'm still under restrictions." He takes one long deep breath before clapping his lifemate on the shoulder. "Right, we still have more sweeps to ride." And in short order the brown and rider lift from the clearing at the edge of the Jungle to continue with their duties.

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