Who

Zaria, En'rys

What

Zaria and En'rys meet up in the Bowl.

When

It is afternoon of the nineteenth day of the third month of the fourteenth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Central Bowl, Igen Weyr

OOC Date 13 Jun 2018 05:00

 

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Central Bowl

Cradled childlike in an easterly mountainous embrace, the steppes of the central bowl nestle cozily between lake and weyr. The latticework of dusty adobe paths spider out from the southerly Weyr Road, wagon-ruts of which curve lazily to the adobe sprawl of the northeastern bazaar. A small footpath, just as abused, ambles away from the lake's shore, travelling over rock and hill to the northern dragonet complex and branching itself due west to end at the entrance of the blessedly cool inner caverns. The abandoned caverns of Igen-that-was lie at the end of one disused tracking. All around, the dizzying heights of the caldera's sharp-sloped sides are pocked here and there with ledges, the weyrs' draconic occupants needing no path to guide their way.


Another pleasant spring day and the usual bustle of people traversing the central bowl on various trajectories. Watching the people wandering idly about their day, Arroyo's blueriding Wingleader is off to one side with Azrith who is laying sphynx like as he too watches. Zaria is sitting cross-legged between her dragon's forelimbs, resting her back against his chest. She has a pile of hidework in front of her, two neat stacks, one quite short and the other much taller. One report is open in her lap, but it's forgotten as she is briefly lost in thought, hazel eyes hypnotized by the movement through the bowl.

Oh, spring: that time of year where all good things begin to grow, and the promise of summer is in the air! Mingling with those out and about-ers, En'rys is taking the time for a run; Briamiorth, of course, has effected a lazy sprawl on a warm ledge overlooking the Bowl, watching bemusedly as her rider goes about it. She sees no reason to exercise herself again after drills, instead preferring to soak up some sun while the getting is good.

Azrith spots the running greenrider before his lifemate does, a melodious croon of encouragement sent in En'rys' direction which in turn has Zaria looking that way. Her critical eye watches him for awhile and when he gets close enough, she calls out "Looking good!" while her blue cranes his neck around to spy Briamiorth. When finally he spies her sprawled on that ledge, his reaches out, his mind a richly lush green velvet, softly tactile with a fuzzy edge, « How's the sun up there? » he inquires with a roguish tilt of his mindvoice.

Azrith is given a gentle caress in response: foggy, fuzzy, rich with teeming life; in the midst of this, a soft, vibrating purr of contentment. On her ledge, Briamiorth shifts position, curling on her side and extending first one foreleg, then the other, stretching each toe out as far as her paws will spread. Oh, the sun is her second love! Meanwhile on the ground, En'rys slows to a stop near — but not too near! Sweaty male is not appealing! — Zaria and offers her a salute in greeting. "Thank you." He offers her a crooked smile. "Gotta stay in shape. That one — " His tiny, ferocious green. " — requires work."

It's not the sweaty part that doesn't appeal to Zaria but she'll salute him back all the same, smartly and crisply, she's kinda a stickler for decorum. Flipping the hide of her lap closed, she unfolds her willowy legs and gets to her feet in one graceful movement. Azrith returns the gentle caress with one of his own, like silk touching the green's mind. At bit of a troubled look crosses her face as the greenrider admits that his lifemate needs work, causing one of her ginger eyebrows to shoot up quizzically, "Work in what sense?" she drawls slowly, with a touch of worry in her voice.

"In keeping up with her. She's got energy. Runs about when she's of a mind — outside of Threadfall, when she focuses quite well." En'rys explains softly, eyeing Zaria steadily. Truth's always better. He sends a look up to Briamiorth, who is now idly cleaning the talons of her forepaw, studiously not—quite-ignoring Azrith, though that rumbling purr continues through their mindlink. She seems entertained by his friendliness. "Keeps me on my toes, my girl." There's a wry edge to his voice, there — oh, how he enjoys the way his little green doesn't let him rest on his laurels, ever.

"Well then I guess your running makes sense then," Zaria says with a soft nod of her head, though her expression remains introspective as she ponders his words carefully, "It's good to be kept on your toes," she finally relents. Azrith is always friendly, he just wants to know everyone! Especially the green ladies. The rumbling purr is greeted with a soft feel of fur to tickle along the mindlink, phsycially, the big blue is still craning his head up in the green's direction. Fully used to her lifemates proclivities, Zaria doesn't seem too concerned by her blue trying to get into the young green's good graces, so she turns the conversation back on En'rys, "So how are you liking the wing? People treating you ok?" she asks casually, although thre may be a smidge of ulterior motive to this line of questioning.

Briamiorth will make him work for the tiniest smidge of approval, have no fear! There's a yawn for him; she's bored now. She just curls up and pretends to sleep. Sorry, Azrith: Because Cat Office is closed now, come back later. En'rys is rolling his eyes at the green's playacting, now — he can see things are gonna be interesting. "Hmm. The wing itself? We get along well enough. Outside it…" He gives a shrug, gesturing vaguely. "Oh, there's the usual anti-woman nonsense." Obviously, the greenrider has no time or patience for such antics. He tilts his head at Zaria, his own gaze thoughtful. "I don't buy the grumbling about you, Wingleader. I am lately of a Trader caravan with a leader who happens to be a woman. You should meet her. She's… rather formidable." There's affection and respect in his tone, here.

"So you're hearing this anti-woman rhetoric from who exactly?" Zaria asks as she casually crosses her arms over chest, voice softly inquiring. "But nothing from Arroyo riders right?" she queries with a bit of a narrowed eye in his direction. When he goes on to talk about one of the caravan leaders being a woman, she nods considerably for a moment. "Well I'm glad to hear it, we always need more strong female leaders around," she ponders, "I haven't ventured out to the Caravan grounds yet, maybe you could come with me sometime, show me around?" she asks in a purely professional manner, no subtle undertones of any kind, just curiosity about the Traders in general. Azrith's eyes whirl a little faster as Briamiorth rebukes any further advances, the permanent smirk on his muzzle is even more pronounced. Ahhh, the green wants to play hard to get huh?

The green wants a nap in the sun. And yet, there's a buzzing ab out the mental ears. Huh. "Bazaar talk. The occasional older, more traditional rider who believes I might be sympathetic, even while he looks down his nose at me for being a 'mere' greenrider." En'rys' lip curls; he can't help it. Those types leave an unsavory taste in the mouth, and the need for a bath to erase the stink of chauvinism from the skin. "And no, none from Arroyo that I've heard." And then he gives Zaria an appraising look — how to introduce her? "Oh, yes, I can definitely show you around, introduce you. "The Zingari have their hidebound, but Leader Willimina is slowly turning the tide."

Azrith rumbles amusedly at the young green, delighted by the challenge. Zaria is not quite so delighted as she listens to En'rys speak of the talk he's been hearing, a soft huff of dismissal. She'll let it drop now, feeling like the more she spends energy on those naysayers, the more they win. So she decides to spend no more energy thinking on them, at least not this day. "Oh I don't think I need to be meeting the Caravan leader, I just meant show me around the camp. I've heard their entertainment nights are worth checking out," she says with an interested cadence to her words.

"As you wish." En'rys will spend no more time on that — though he thinks Zaria will get on famously with willimina, there's little use in trying to convince her. Eventually, it's bound to happen, especially if Zaria's going to be bouncing about the Grounds. "Hm. They are something to see." The greenling will agree easily enough; having been a pat of some of those entertainment nights in one fashion or another, that he can attest to. "When would you like to go?"

"I guess whenever the next party is," Zaria replies with a shrug of her shoulders, "Do they happen often?" she wonders as she runs a hand through her ginger hair, tucking short locks behind her ears in an almost subconscious manner. "So you say you were a Trader before Impression?" she asks conversationally, curious about her newly tapped wingrider, and of the opinion that a good leader should know those they lead, "Do many traders get Searched here?"

En'rys smiles a little, watching Zaria. She seems almost… girlish in her manner at the moment. But, to the question at hand: 'At least once every seven, I believe." He runs a hand through his hair, resettling its weight over his shoulders. It's gotten longer still, reaching his shoulderblades in a silken, comforting blanket. "Mm.. I think you have at least two other Traders in your ranks. S'ayde and Moanna." He grins at her. "I think the Zingari collects greenriders. And Southern's Amani — she's Zingari, and now a goldrider there."

"Right I think I remember hearing that," Zaria remarks, about S'ayde and Moanna, "And a goldrider as well, that must be a point of pride for them." Azrith curls his neck towards his rider then, eyes whirling as a private conversation passes between the two of them. A soft sigh caps off the silent dialogue as she turns her focus back on En'rys, "Well I must be off, B'taar's looking for me apparently," the bluerider tries to remain neutral but her lips turn down in the ghost of a frown at her Wingsecond's name. "Clear skies greenrider, and enjoy the rest of your run," she says after gathering up her hidework and stuffing it in a satchel before heading off towards the Living Caverns with a backwards wave. Her blue on the other hand will merely find a new perch, on a ledge not too far from Briamiorth, for his own nap in the sun.

En'rys will offer Zaria a look of deepest sympathy: B'taar has to be the literal worst to deal with, with his ridiculous attitudes. En'rys is good at avoiding the man when at all possible. "Mmhm. CLear skies, indeed. And might I suggest some lovely form of wine or other after your meeting."" His grin is pure mischief now as he salutes Zaria, turning to go back to his run. Meanwhile, Briamiorth yawns widely before she shifts position, her back to Azrith.

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