Rielle, Xanthee, Daenerys


Candidates Xanthee and Daenerys fall prey to a Obhaeroth's rambunctiousness and then they meet a Southern Wingleader, Rielle.


It is noon of the twenty-eighth day of the fifth month of the thirteenth turn of the 12th pass.


Lake Shore, Igen Weyr

OOC Date 08 Mar 2018 05:00


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"He wanted to know if 'desert fish' taste different than ocean fish."


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.

It is the fifty-eighth day of Spring and 91 degrees. It is a bright, sunny day.

It's been quite some time since Rielle visited anywhere up north, her reasons to visit the desert in particular more rare than they might be for anywhere else. Yet here the brownriding Serval wingleader is, wandering out to Igen Weyr's lake shore in the wake of whatever business brought her here in order to do some sun-soaking before returning to Southern's rainy autumn jungles. It seems like it's a good place for a Southerner to dry out no matter the time of Turn. Obhaeroth is gleefully bounding through the shallows of the lake, inordinately pleased at being in a body of water that he can actually circumnavigate in a matter of minutes…and making certain he's getting in as much greeting as he can to the bevy of new greens he's been spotting, of course.

Xanthee is doing something she hasn't really done in awhile…relaxing. Morning chores were finished up in due course and she didn't have PT until a candlemark after lunch and with the hot clear day, this igenite girl decided to get her beach on. Stretched onto a towel on her stomach, she's wearing an emerald green bikini that sets off her light toffee colored skin beautifully. Her arms are crossed to make a pillow for her head as she just lays there, dark hair swept to one side, as she works on her tan.

Daenerys is also taking advantage of the chance to relax and do absolutely nothing; shirtless and barefoot, he wanders the beach in shorts that are very short indeed — for it's as good a chance as he's gonna get for awhile to get some sun on his lean legs. His long hair is down, left to fly free in the breeze like a curtain down his back. Halfway down the beach he first catches sight of Xanthee, then grins to himself. Remarkable! He can begin the shenanigans! "Hey, girl, whatchu doin'?" He asjs from a safe distance away.

Actually, Daenerys is about to find himself beaten to shenanigans, and Xanthee is going to end up caught as well. Damned by proximity! There are none as naturally prone to shenanigans as Obhaeroth the Brown…who swears to his rider that he has just seen a fish. Rielle doesn't react fast enough to stop her lifemate from pouncing the water, sending a wave right for the two unsuspecting Candidates. Whoops. Simultaneously realizing his mistake and getting scolded by his oncoming rider, the lanky brown bounds forward again to loom over the pair with an apologetic croon, great amber-hued eyes blinking contritely beneath surprisingly mobile eyeridges that are canted in such a way as to make him look even more sorry.

"Plotting to take over the Weyr." Xanthee retorts when she hears her brother's voice, sounding completely serious for one long moment before she giggles softly, "What does it look like I'm doing? I am working on my tan." The raven-haired girl doesn't move through all of this, she doesn't even open her eyes. All she wants to do is lay here and bake in the hot desert sun, is that really too hard to ask? Guess so cause then she is soaked by the wave she had no idea was coming. A loud shriek at the unexpectedness of it and she scrambles to her feet, wet sand sticking to her all over as she glares to see who dared….oh… looking up at the looming brown she blinks once or twice, a small smirk on her lips as she sees the contrite expression. Obhaeroth is lucky Xan's got a soft spot for browns.

"I'm down for that." Daenerys is, indeed, delighted with the idea, for taking over a Weyr sounds like the ultimate adventure. "Mm, you were looking a little pas —" Hold that thought, though, Daen! There's a dragon-bourne tsunami come to drench them ere the thought is complete. With a yell that sounds quite like an aggrieved yowl, Daenerys leaps back too late and tries to scrape his hair clear of his face, squinting in annoyance at the brown. That is, until he sees that pitiful expression.

The woman approaching the drooping brown and those he's drenched has rather feline-like teal eyes that snap in annoyance at the dragon, though any heat to her expression is muted by the vagueness of distraction by mental dialogue. Clad in leathers from the waist down, a riding jacket with a distinctly non-Igenite knot draped over one shoulder, she strides up to the three with a huff. "I'm sorry for that," she says once she's close enough. "And so is Obhaeroth. In case it wasn't obvious." Which he proceeds to make more so with a soft tenor warble as he settles firmly on his haunches. "He wanted to know if 'desert fish' taste different than ocean fish. Though I'm sure he didn't actually see one."

The salute at the sight of a rider is so ingrained in Xanthee now that she's doing it without even realizing. "Afternoon Wingleader." she says as her sharp green eyes search out the brownrider's knot. Her own white knot is attached to her short tunic style dress that is not very far from her towel. To the brown, she can't help but chuckle at his warble, a smile spreading on her face, she shakes her head, "It's just water. No harm done." she tilts her head to one side to wring out her raven dark hair.

All is forgiven in due course — after all, the dragon hadn't meant to half drown them. "I needed a refresher anyway, Wingleader." Daenerys offers a salute before wringing the worst of the water out of his own hair. Wait, what? Fish in the middle of this lake? Huh. "A fish? No self-respecting gish would set itself up like that."

It isn't the sight of Xanthee's knot nearby that clues Rielle in to who these two are - or what they are, more accurately - so much as the readiness of their salutes while in swim gear. "Rielle of Obhaeroth, Serval Wingleader from Southern," the brownrider returns with a salute of her own. "I'm assuming you're both Candidates, all things considered." A fact that has Obhaeroth paying even closer attention. Rielle gives him a bemused look for a moment before returning her attention to them, expectant of names in return. As for the fish, "He knows. Sure and it doesn't stop him from trying."

"Well met Ma'am. I'm Xanthee, Igen weyrbrat and now Candidate. I was in Southern for a Candidacy not two Turns ago now. Beautiful place, killer on my hair." She says with a giggle as she looks over at her drenched towel and dress. Picking up the garmet first, she bunches it up and wrings out the worst of the water, shaking it out afterwards, away from people of course. "It's not the first time I've been drenched by a dragon induced wave and I'm sure it won't be the last."

"Daenerys, trader and Candidate." As to the current state of his shorts? Ah well they'll dry out. He does sluice some of it off, though; wet shorts can be heavy when waterlogged. He looks over to Obhaeroth consideringly. Why is the brown staring so? "What brings you here?" He asks Rielle curiously. What, he's nosy!

Xanthee's introduction earns a lift of gently-angled brows in recognition. "Aye, I remember you now. Good to see you with the knot again, Xanthee." Obhaeroth snorts happily and lowers his head to whuffle at the girl, earning a chuckle from his lifemate. "He tends to give Candidates nicknames. Yours was Desert Girl Number One. Number Two being Amani, of course. He remembers you." Though it's more likely a case of remembering vicariously through Rielle, not that he'll admit to it. Daenerys' question earns a rather cheeky smirk from the wingleader. "Comparing notes about a situation current to Southern with one from Igen's past," she replies, "and that's all you need to know, Candidate." There's no offense taken, judging by her manner; she appreciates curiosity, generally. Obhaeroth, whose eyes have now calmed to a more tranquil emerald, flicks his gaze to Daen consideringly, and Rielle scoffs after a moment, looking up at her brown. "You don't really…" Another moment passes before she gives a long-suffering shake of her head. "He says you're Cat-man." To Daenerys, of course.

"Hey, at least I was number 1." Xanthee will reply to the knowledge that the brown had given her a nickname. She turns to Obhaeroth then and bows her head in his direction in thanks, again showing the affection that the raven hair girl holds for all dragons of his color. "I am honored to be rememberd by you." always with the flair for the dramatic is Xan. When Rielle reveals Daenerys' nickname, the girl dissolves into a fit of the giggles, "Oh that's perfect!"

It really isn't his business, so he'll just grin cheekily, "May it work out in Southern's favor, then." As the nicknames are handed out, he begins to laugh. "Not the first time I've been called that." Whaddya know, everyone's on to him! They all like calling him a kitty. "I like it." He grins at the brown playfully.

"He does make sure he stays in order," Rielle chuckles to Xanthee's first as Obhaeroth gives the raven-haired girl a nudge with his snout. Daenerys' reception of the brown's nickname has him uttering a happy chuff that's strong enough to stir the sand around them, and he rises to bound in one great circle around them before rearing back to show off his great copper-scrolled wings in smug display. "He's glad, in case you can't tell," Rielle notes drolly, then laughs. "No we can't keep them; they're for Igen. Where the eggs are," she tells her lifemate aloud for the Candidates' benefit.

Xanthee is delighted over the apparent smug display from the brown, grinning like a little kid. At the idea that the brown wanted to keep them, she can feel her heart swell a little bit. "Browns really are the best." she grins as she comments randomly. Bending down then, she picks up her towel and rolls it up and wrings the excess water from it. Luckily in this heat, her bikini should be dry relatively quickly so she won't have need of the towel.

Daenerys watches the brown racing happily around them, laughing aloud. "My he is an excitable one!" But there's something in his voice, a certain wry affection, that might allude to an inkling of admiration for such antics. "Ha. I think happy dragons are the best." He runs a hand through his wet hair, detangling it gently with his fingers. "My dad's dragon put up with so many shenanigans out of me."

"Aye, we'll both agree with you there," Rielle counters Xanthee with a grin, unslinging her jacket so that she can put it on properly. "Happy dragons are certainly a plus," she says to Daenerys, "though they're like people in that not all are naturally so. I just got lucky. And if you were anything like my daughter, you needn't explain the shenanigans he puts up with, trust me." Chuckling, she fastens her jacket. "Time for us to go, I'm afraid. He wants to sniff around some things he saw beyond the walls before it gets too late. Good to meet you, Candidates. Clear skies and good luck on the Sands, come the day." Obhaeroth gives them both a final whuffle before he and Rielle move off to a safe distance, taking to the sky and winging east rather than blinking between right away. Apparently the requisite exploring is a straight flight away!

Xanthee salutes again at the departing brownrider and her dragon, a goofy smile on her face as she watches them take off. With a little wistful sigh, she looks over at Daenerys and lowers her voice to a whisper. "I kinda hope I impress a brown if I ever do." she confesses, her emerald eyes looking at him thoughtfully for a long moment before adding, "I never told anyone else that before."

"Only kind of?" Daenerys asks gently, smiling at her wistfulness. He eyes his adopted sister critically for a moment, then nods slowly, slowly gathering the mass of his hair into a long, slightly curly runner tail. "Actually, sister-mine, I could see a brown suiting you well." There's a fluid sort of shrug for the idea that this is a secret, knowing he'll never divulge it anyway. Who she tells of it is her business, not his. "Part of me wants you to Impress. Part of me…" He sighs, softly. ".. I half hope you don't, only because I'd never want to see you get hurt. But mostly, I want you to get your heart's desire, so I will have to live with the possibility of you getting hurt, won't I?"

"Really? You think so?" Xanthee looks surprised her brother thinks she could be well suited for a brown, which is definitely nice to hear. "And don't worry. I'm not planning on getting hurt so you don't have to worry about that." She says with a teasing smug self-assuredness that is so completely Xan. "And I hope you get your heart's desire as well big brother, whatever that may be." Her features soften then and she reaches to place a hand on his shoulder.

"I really think so." Daenerys confirms with no trace of his usual levity, flicking Xanthee's cheek affectionately. "You see you keep that promise, young lady, or I'll leave you to that one really smelly's healer's tender mercies." You know the one: he smells like harshly brewed herbs and has zero bedside manners. Children run screaming away from him before he gets near them. "My heart has many desires; I don't think I can have them all."

"Well I plan on keeping it anyway." Xanthee says with a wry chuckle, knowing full well a dragonrider's life is fraught with dangers. But she sighs heavily at Daenerys' last. "That's a tough one truly. If you ever need anything though, just ask right?" She says sincerly as she gives his shoulder a squeeze. Then she looks at her soaking dress and towel. "I should probably go hang these up in the barracks and change into something for PT this afternoon." Picking her wet and sandy things up gingerly, she starts heaing back towards the Barrack, head turned back towards him. "You coming?"

Daenerys slings a companionable arm around Xanthee's shoulders, and grins at her. "Don't you worry, I'll be fine." But of course, should things become untenable, she's among the very few that he would seek out, for the sake of comfort, if nothing else. He trusts her as deeply as he's likely to trust anyone. "Yeah. I think I'd like dry shorts for my run." His chuckle is rueful as he matches steps with her toward the Barracks.

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