Who

Idara, Verik

What

Idara's early morning runs were SUPPOSED to be uninterrupted, especially not by dirty wildling boys who poke at you.

When

It is before sunrise of the fourth day of the eleventh month of the sixteenth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Jungle Flatlands, Southern Weyr

OOC Date 23 Apr 2019 23:00

 

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Jungle Flatlands

Rising higher than the deeper parts of the forest, the flatlands provide a unique view of the rolling mountainous jungle regions that stretches far across the western parts of Southern. Trees rise up to the south and west as the land slopes away to the east and north, allowing a brief glimpse of the winding Black Rock River far, far, in the distance. Various trails wind through these parts, providing a good place to 'hike'; with the sounds of wildlife echoing in the distance, this part of the jungle is relatively safe.


This is a beautiful place to sit and watch the sun rise; a gentle wind rustles the foliage about the place, and with the skies being so clear, the far off Black Rock River could be seen if one is in the right place. It's a little too early for that thought, and the sun is still working up the courage to rise above the horizon. Still, it hasn't stopped one young woman from making her way out here, though her reason would not be for the view. Idara's harsh, hard breaths are the only sound other than the shifting leaves and the chirp of avian life, as she pounds her way up from one of the jungle trails and emerges on the flat lands, coming to a halt and leaning to put her hands on her knees. Her blouse is sweat-stained; her lower legs shaking slightly below her loose brown shorts. There she stays for a long moment, trying to get her breathing in order, blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail with a few strands having escaped and stuck to her damp forehead.

It's early, sure, but it's not like he's one to sleep all that much. And, besides, hunting is best done before the animals know what's coming, right? It's easy for a wildling to stay unseen until they want to be seen; even if they do have a shock of red hair that would otherwise stand out. Verik watches the blonde for a time while she made her way up the trail leading to the flatlands. After she passes the tree he's hidden in, he drops down with a quickness that's instinctive - if not downright genetic. Shirtless, but with a small satchel of supplies, he pads along the trail in her wake, bare feet silent on the ground. "Gonna scare off the good hunting, wheezing like that," he calls over, feral drawl and all. He's a hot, sweaty mess himself, but- really, that's just his natural state and he's not fussing over it. He sniffs once, his mouth pulling to a side. "You need water or somethin'?"

"Faranth!" The exclamation comes out breathless, Idara's heart pumping faster at the voice when she thought she was alone. She jerks upright, chest still heaving in and out though she's not making as much noise now, looking over at the other. "I'm not hunting," comes her retort, still not sounding like she has full breath behind the words - so they're not quite as punch as they could be. Pushing the loose, sweat-damp hair back behind her ears, a flicker of irritation in her eyes at being caught by surprise, she considers the man who…appears to be wearing very little. "No. Thank you." That to the offer of water. "What are you doing here?"

There's a sharp look at the young woman at that invocation and he looks around briefly before snapping back, "I ain't no dragon and I don't see one here." Verik considers her skeptically, her outburst keeping him temporarily at a distance. And, aye, he's not wearing much - he is in shorts, thankyouverymuch - which reveals both faintly grimy skin and a smattering of scars and bruises. He snorts. "I was." Was being the operative word. He straightens up a bit more, but only to size her up. "What are you doing way out this way? You ain't a wildling." He sniffs at her. "Too clean."

Idara's response to the returning snappiness is to clench her jaw, pale lips thinning. Her breathing is starting to settle now, and she produces a handkerchief from a pocket to wipe across her forehead. It gives her that moment to collect herself, and - when her eyes aren't obscured by the white fabric - continue to get the measure of the other teenager. Handkerchief returning to her pocket, her nose crinkles. Is he sniffing at her? "No I'mnot," she says sharply. "I'm allowed to be out this way just as much as anyone else." Not exactly an answer to his question; seems she's on the defensive, in words as much as she is in her subtly tense body language.

Oh. Oh. He is definitely sniffing at her. Though that sharpness of hers just draws a feral grin out of the redheaded youth. "Ah, so the pretty thing's got teeth, has she?" Verik maintains a bit of distance, but then he starts to move, roughly sketching out a gyre around her with slow movements. "Sure. Ain't like there's some guard o' the jungle keepin' you out," he replies. "But that ain't answerin' what you're doin' out here." He taps the tip of his tongue against an eyetooth, thoughtfully, but continues in that slow, focused movement. Not quite predatory, but dangerously in that neighborhood.

What is it with Idara and encounter wild animals out in the jungles? Ignoring the fact this is where they live, but REALLY THOUGH? Sure, this one's rather more human than the others, but she's still eyeing him with the wariness she'd be aiming at an animal out here. Trying to sound nonplussed, despite the fact her eyes are following him as he does whatever it is he's doing, she finally gives an answer. "Running, if you must know. Not that it's really any of your business." She's being overly arrogant, really, for one who's face to face with a wildling. Defence tactics?

"Runnin'," Verik repeats, a note of incredulity in his voice. His attention briefly flicks back down the path she'd come up, then right back to her. And she's definitely in her rights to eye him like a wild animal; he's just a few words away from just being some kind of wild feline or something, honestly. "Runnin' from what? Ain't nothin' comin' that way." His drawl is easier, if not downright comfortable, now that he has a better sense of her. Not that it stops his slow circling. Whether it's his business or not? It's definitely not. But he's nosy.

Idara would probably have rolled her eyes skywards at that, but she needs to keep them on Verik as he keeps on circling her. "Yes, running," she repeats. "Not from anything. Just…because it's good for you." There's a tilt to her head now, a jut of her chin as she dares him to challenge her. "Surely you do plenty of that around the place?" Her tone has shifted slightly, a hint of talking down to someone as if she feels the need to do that to get them to understand her point. She's having to turn her whole body now, her shoes making a soft noise on the earth as she maintains the eye contact with him.

There's a snort for that. "I race with the other lads. Chase down somethin' that ain't fully dead. Run to one place or another if I need to be there in a hurry, sure." Verik keeps her on her toes - figuratively, if not literally - as he continues around. "But just… runnin'? Why not have somethin' to do while you're doin' it?" No talking down there; just genuine confusion. "Seems stupid to do, even if it's good." His features scrunch up some. "You don't even look like you're enjoyin' it." His feet are quiet on the ground, or as near to quiet as a human can get, while a firm grip on his satchel keeps it from shifting overly much.

Now it seems clearer that he's not going to attack her, Idara's heart rate has gone down, but she's still watching him with that wariness still evident in her pale eyes. "You don't need to have something to do," she argues back, chin still jutting obstinately. She grasps for words when he points out her lack of enjoyment, mouth tightly shut, lifting her hand to push back a strand of hair caught by the breeze. "It's not about enjoying it. It makes me better." Her expression is challenging as she continues watching him in his circling.

She fusses with her hair and it seems about right to do the same with his; Verik just pulls his fingers roughly through his rough, red mane and pauses to scratch at the back of his head. He comes back around and finally stops; it puts him roughly where he was before he started that circling business. He stops with a snort. "But it's dumb to do it if you don't like doing it. Swimming's good for you, too, ain't it? That's way more fun and it'll still make you- what? Better?" That's a funny concept. "Better for what?"

There's an air of relief in Idara's body language when the wildling stops moving around. Now she can plant both her feet and cross her arms, and even take her eyes off him for a moment. This lets her look out at the view, light starting to pour over it as sunrise has well and truly begun now. "That is my business," she says firmly, though not as sharply as before, not looking at Verik. "And who says I don't swim as well?" The fact she can hardly swim is something else entirely, of course. "Do you swim?" A lame attempt to turn the questioning on him, perhaps, but she's ready to try anything to avoid the subject of her choice of exercise this morning.

All that- grumping and crossed arms and all of it! It's adorable. Verik's grin emerges again, feral and tilted. "I don't think you swim any, otherwise you'd be doing that instead of runnin'," he replies with Wildling Logic(tm), going so far as to reach out and try to poke her shoulder with a finger. When was the last time he's bathed? Her guess is probably as good as his. "I swim a lot, yeah. Only way to cool down sometimes and you can get shellfish, too, while you're out." He clicks his tongue thoughtfully, chin lifting a bit as if appraising her. "And it's more fun than runnin'."

Idara doesn't seem sure what to make of that grin, when she refocuses her gaze on him. Wrinkles show on her brow as her mind mulls things over. He's right with that logic - not that she'd ever let him know he's got it in one. "What if I do both?" is her retort, trying to throw him off even if there's a slight dip of confidence in her tone. ANYWAY. Him. Yes, focus on him. Or not, because he's trying to poke her and she can pretty much imagine how he smells even if she can't actually smell him and ugh. One of Idara's feet shifts, moving her just enough back to avoid being touched by that finger. Grudgingly, she can't deny his argument for the benefits of swimming. "Well, of course. Running takes you to places you might not have seen though." Why is she so doggedly defending running all of a sudden?!

Take a teenaged boy and throw him in the jungle with zero parentally mandated baths - and that's about how he smells. Gamey is an understatement. Verik has his suspicions of course, and her squirming away from the notion of swimming - or, at least, her strange (to him!) defense of running seems to keep him at it. He wiggles his finger at her; even if it doesn't make contact, he'll still torment her with it from a slight distance. "So does swimmin'," says he. "And maybe you do both, sure. But runnin' when it's muggy?" Ugh. His nose wrinkles. "You gotta be crazy to want to do that. Cute, but crazy." His finger threatens to touch her nose, but pulls back before contact is a real threat.

There are shades of younger brothers here, when they were of a certain age and keen to torment their clean and tidy sister. At least the finger is wriggling at a distance now, so Idara only has to keep an eye on it while she's talking to Verik. His logic if, of course, undeniable, and although the teenage girl's chest swells with an indignant intake of air, she can't come up with a strong argument. Anyway, he's called her cute, which is totally gross considering his state - both physical and in life. She pretty much glowers at him now, and at that threatening finger as it gets too close for comfort. "Well I can go back to the Weyr and enjoy a cool drink and relaxing bath after my run." She can't help but be proud about that, the smile twisting her lips up rather smug.

"Yeah, you can go back to that place with those awful, stinkin' things." Verik's good-natured mood darkens abruptly and he spits to a side with disdain. Playfulness turns edged, a nerve struck with a glancing blow. "And maybe you should go do that, yeah?" No smiles now. There's also no farewell; he just turns on a heel and stalks off to the nearest stretch of trees, with no fear of retaliation from her. No explanation, but there's probably no need; moody wildling boys gonna do what they do. Wait, no, there are some parting words shot back with a soaking of sarcasm: "Enjoy your runnin'!"

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