Divale, Ryott


The morning after We Got A Runner, Divale escorts Ryott out of the brig and to the rooftops to have a little chat.


It is early morning of the twenty-ninth day of the second month of the fourteenth turn of the 12th pass.


Guardhouse & Rooftops, Igen Weyr

OOC Date 08 Jun 2018 04:00



"What were you thinking, provoking a Guard? Do you not realize all that you risked, by this foolishness?"



What was once nigh-obsolete has been wrought anew in understated radiance: Igen Weyr's guardhouse has always been a weathered thing, but now the two-storied building shines with a little more gloss than the dilapidation of yore. Gutted and refit with a brighter interior, new wood lends itself to a staircase upward to the guard quarters and to long, functionally-assertive desks that sweep behind the main focus of the room. Determinedly upright, the entrance desk allows the one on shift full sight of the room, and requires all comers to submit in lowered-height submission against the glory of the rough-shined skybroom.

How long can one night drag out? Long enough, if you're trapped somewhere you don't want to be. Eventually, the first rays of a chilly wintry dawn start to lighten the sky. The brig is quiet, with only the occasional dry rustle of movement; whether by human or tunnel snake, it's best not to think too heavily on the matter. Guards remain stationed at the entrance, though there's no chance of escape from this point. Divale has spent much of the night resuming her patrols, but also at the desk for the usual hidework waiting for her there. When dawn arrives at last, the Wingsecond calmly rises from her seat and, gathering her jacket and gloves, approaches the Guards. "I'll be needing her released." she states, quiet and dry toned. One Guard nods, moving to stride ahead of the brownrider down the row of cells. Unlike when Divale first brought Ryott here, there is no chorus of leering and jeering voices from the others locked up in the various cells. A small mercy saw that the girl had a cell all to herself and separated by one empty one. While the Guard works on selecting the right key, Divale casts a narrow glance within the cell. Nothing is said, as she'll assume that Ryott understands what is expected of her. They've barely spoken a word since the night before; expressionless as she may be, something in Divale's gaze hints at a slow simmering anger. Once they're away… there WILL be words, then!

Well it wasn't the worst night Ryott's ever spent. The girl isn't easily flustered or goaded into reaction when hooted and hollered at. She merely spent the night curled on her side on the single cot, facing the wall. Sleep didn't come easily though, her thoughts raced to the ramifications this will bring down on her head and how exactly is she going to talk her way out of the trouble that's just landed in her lap. Finally she managed to drift off into a dreamless sleep only to be awoken by the clatter of the keys on the guard's ring. With a soft groan, she lifts her head and sees that it is indeed her cell that is being targeted. Heartbeat picks up slightly as she casts her hooded gaze in the brownrider's direction and catches a hint of that simmering anger. Smart girl that she is, Ryott maintains her silence as she slowly stretches her compact body on the narrow bed before sitting up with a grunt of effort, a chorus of popping accompanying a roll of her neck. Finally she stands, well back from the door, and waits, her face stony in it's impassive mien.

The door screeches briefly upon opening, earning grumbled protests from the other cells. The Guard steps aside, while Divale moves just inside the doorway. Her gaze never leaves Ryott and her voice, when she speaks, remains low spoken. There's no mistaking the steel there and the warning that it would not be to the girl's benefit to act up or disobey right about now. "Come with me." Spoken with finality, Divale gestures with a sharp, minute tilt of her head. Ryott is to step out and the Wingsecond will follow like a close shadow; close enough that at some point her hand will clamp down on the girl's shoulder. There's a brief tightening curl of her fingers; a warning squeeze that she will not tolerate any misbehaving or attempts at escape. "You can return to your post," she informs the Guard. "If anyone inquires, I am merely escorting this one home." Slightly unusual and yet not. Ryott's time here is coming to an end, but because of her age, it's not outside the realm that someone should make sure she makes it to the Bazaar, at least. Still the Guard scoffs under his breath and smirks, eyeing Ryott in disapproval; likely assuming she's nothing more than yet another Bazaar brat and soon to be career thief or beggar. What else could a girl of her standing amount too, anyhow?

Not even wincing at the screech of the door, Ryott doesn't move a muscle as she remains as inscrutable as ever. At Divale's instructions, she dips her head and lowers her eyes, at least playing at looking somewhat repentant for her transgressions from the previous evening. With a soft huff under the girl's breath, she gets the hint and moves past the brownrider and out of the cell. Shoulders slumped slightly forward, she trodges along until she feels the woman's hand grip her shoulder which causes her to pause, lips pressing together a little more firmly as she doesn't even raise her head during the exchange with the guard. At the mention that Divale is going to be escorting her home, her heart does skip a beat before she remembers the brownrider doesn't know where Ryott's home is. And if the girl has anything to say about it, it will remain that way. But for right now, priority one is not angering the Wingsecond any more than she has, so her mouth stays firmly shut until she's told otherwise.

Smart girl. Both for correctly guessing at the ruse that Divale is playing for both their benefit at the moment. She has no idea where Ryott hails from and doesn't intend to strong-arm that information out of her… Not today, anyhow. Secondly, for taking the cues and not going into a fit of teenage rebellion. It makes for a painless 'escape' from the brig and out of the Guardhouse. The dawn sky continues to gradually lighten, but much of the Weyr and outlying Bazaar still slumber. It's through the winding streets that Divale takes them, in a silence as chilly and biting as the early morning winds. Eventually, it will be obvious where they're going; the rooftops. Somewhere familiar but "safe" for the discussion that's necessary to take place. Her firelizards are on sentry duty again and it's with little hesitation that they arrive where they need to go. "Climb." Tersely spoken, but Divale will roughly let go of Ryott's shoulder and then indicate with a sharp upwards gesture. Up she goes! Again, the Wingsecond ghosts along behind her, until they're at their usual rendezvous spot. Barely have they reached it, does Divale speak up again. "What," Clipped now, anger laced with each word. "Did you fail to understand in my warnings?"

The further Divale leads Ryott through the bazaar, a touch of worry begins to creep up in her but it's not made apparent as she continues to be lead. When it's apparent their destination is the rooftops, she feels herself relax slightly knowing they are entering her playground now. When ordered to climb, the girl needs no more incentive, scaling the wall with ease before being ushered to a familiar spot. Turning finally to face Divale when she speaks, she raises her eyes and shrugs her shoulders, "A girl's gotta eat you know," she says with a soft sigh as she finds a wall to lean on. One foot is kicked back against it as she crosses her arms over her chest. "Beggin' doesn't get ya much, and I'm still too young to work at Rosie's," Ryott remarks matter-of-factly.

"You are too well fed to be relying on scraps and handouts," Divale is quick to retort, eyes narrowing dangerously as she broaches personal space again and attempts to prod a finger at Ryott. Whether she's successful at reaching her side or an arm, she'll make her point regardless. "You were careless," she goes on to add, stalking away from the girl but still keeping her sharp, darkened gaze on her. Predatory, but angry too. If she had hackles, they'd be raised. "What were you thinking, provoking a Guard? Do you not realize all that you risked, by this foolishness?"

"For one, I wasn't careless," Ryott deadpans back at the brownrider, looking down where her finger prods her arm, but only raising an eyebrow speculatively. "And for two, I did not provoke him. I did everything I could to get away from him without raising suspicion," before throwing a saddle at his face that is, "It was bad luck plain and simple." Divale may be simmering with anger, but Ryott is ice cold and sometimes the cold bites. "Just by the nature of what I do, I risk getting caught, that's what happens when you don't play by others' rules," the teenager in her takes hold and she rolls her eyes skywards briefly before huffing loudly. "One night in the brig isn't going to bring my life toppling down about my ears, so I don't know why you are so concerned. I kept my mouth shut didn't I?" she challenges softly as she fixes Divale with a near ebony stare.

Divale scowls briefly before reigning back her expression to the usual grim neutrality. Scoffing, she'll run her tongue along her teeth as she waits for Ryott to finish before rounding on her again. "If you are caught, you ARE careless! Bad luck or not." Her brows furrow for the dismissive-like nature in the girl brushing off her stay in the brig. "Use your head, girl!" she gruffly remarks. "You've been marked by the Guards. They're going to remember you! You're officially reported in and the Guard you pissed off and led on a chase isn't one to skimp on details. What do you think will happen if you're caught again?" Her gaze settles on the girl, boring into her as she glares and waits for her to answer.

"So I've been marked…I just won't be seen in the Bazaar again," Ryott remarks easily, if a little cryptically, with a shrug of her shoulder, before she pinches the bridge of her nose with a heavy sigh, "Look, I admit it isn't ideal, but what am I going to do? Roll over and give up?" The derisive snort from the spyling shows just what she thinks about that idea. "I'm not letting this shake me, I have no idea what will happen if I'm caught again, I'm not planning on it," she says obstinately. "But if you need to end out association, there's nothing I can do about that. I just wish you would just tell me one way or another so I can go wash the smell of the brig off me." She's not throwing sass at Divale, her voice remains levelled as do her dark eyes, studying the brownrider quietly.

Silence follows much of Ryott's words, while Divale just pins her under her unwavering dark and cold gaze. Whether she's amused or dismayed by the arrogance shown or the youthful (and foolish) confidence, it doesn't show. Neither does she take offence to what is thrown at her, though her jaw does tighten briefly as she gauges her answer. Finally, she exhales in a heavy sigh, though her features remain impassive. "I won't lie and say I wasn't tempted to wash my hands of you." Something that still nags at her whether her choice is the wise one, in the end. "Despite this… slip up, you've proven useful and I am still requiring your services. However," Now her tone dips again in warning. "IF you are caught again and are brought under questioning? I won't save you. I will deny all and it will be my word against yours. And if it comes down to it? I will leave you to face consequences worse than one night in the brig." Leaving the last to trail off threateningly, she tilts her head in a silent inquiry. Understood?

Even though she may looks relaxed, propping the wall up, Ryott momentarily holds her breath as Divale takes her sweet time deciding what to do, studying the brownrider's face closely taking in minute changes like the clenching of her jaw, trying to read the near inscrutible woman. But when she does finally speak, Ryott begins to breathe again. Her last is, at least, given rapt attention but Ryott wonders just how much bite that warning might have considering what the spyling knows. But like she said, she's not intending on being caught a second time, so the subject's quite moot. When it is clear that Divale is waiting for her answer, she nods firmly just once, "Got it, loud and clear," she replies affirmatively with a lift of her chin before she kicks off the wall. "Anything else?" she asks curiously as she looks out at the ever lightening sky. She knows she will be missed by now and is eager to get whatever is waiting for her back at camp over with as well.

Divale's eyes narrow and for a fleeting moment she casts a doubtful look Ryott's way. There and gone and then she's back to being unreadable. Distant sounds of the Bazaar coming to life draw her attention away, brows furrowing now at some unspoken thought. When she glances back to Ryott, there is a dismissive air about her even before she speaks. "We'll meet again, here, in three days." Grievances aired, as much as they were, it's straight back to business. Even there's a hint of sourness towards their arrangement; Ryott's on thin ice with the Wingsecond for the time being. "Now go." Get as far away and out of her sight! Divale even gestures sharply with her head, to indicate that the girl shouldn't dawdle. She has her own duties to return to, before her absence is missed. It's a delicate game that she plays, leading the dual life that she has. While she's reluctant to drop Ryott, this has certainly put a few things in perspective… and it's difficult to say how tolerant she'll be in the near future. The girl has her work cut out for her, if she desires to keep some form of alliance with the Parhelion's Wingsecond.

Ryott doesn't have to be told twice. After nodding her agreement to meet her back here in three days time, the girl takes no time in vacating the premises with haste. On her way to the baths, she grabs a pack with a change of clothes in it, one of many such secret caches she has. After a quick scrub and a fresh change of clothes, the spyling finally heads in the direction of the Caravan Grounds where she knows she is facing the wrath of the Spymaster. That prospect, rightly, brings more flutterbies to her stomach, the man scares her emminently more than the brownrider probably ever will. Sorry Divale.

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