Myziri, NPC Ulliam (Played by R'ik)


Myziri is confounded by R'ik's strange behaviour when she finds him breaking the terms of his Weyr arrest.


It is before dawn of the seventh day of the sixth month of the seventh turn of the 12th pass.


Black Rock Seahold, Seahold Road

OOC Date 21 Mar 2016 22:00


myziri19.jpg Ulliam2.jpg

"Sweetcheeks? Seriously, what is wrong with you, R'ik?"


Seahold Road

A paved road runs parallel to the cliffs from the warehouse and inland, requiring that anyone coming-or-going from the harbor does so under the eyes of the hold guards. Small cotholds dot the roadside. Those within walking distance of the hold proper are the residents and staff that work there, those who either have enough rank to be able to afford their own small home, or those given enough favor by the seaholder. A few serve as inns for the mainly itinerant population of Black Rock, renting rooms or just beds in exchange for marks, good, or labor.

Late night, and the rain drums steadily on everything, cloud cover keeping the twin moons' light from reaching the ground casting as much of a pall over the world as the miserable autumn storm that spreads itself over the Weyr and even beyond. It's a perfect night for nefariousness, indeed, and for one dragon pair to get out of the Weyr finally after a sevenday of being grounded. Myziri's arm is for the most part healed, and to celebrate she and Sahizath have taken a long flight to somewher not saturated with moisture. Now coming back from wherever it is they found to stargaze, sans cloudy skies, Myziri has directed Sahizath to land at the Seahold; because she's cold, and there's a tavern that serves whiskey to warm her bones and blood. Silently the darkling green settles to ground without fuss; this is a typical occurrence at the end of one of their jaunts. Myziri slides down her side and heads down the road toward said tavern.

A night for nefarious deeds indeed. Foot traffic along the coastal road is virtually non-existant at this time of night, especially given the dreary weather. However, coming along the road with the tavern fading into the distance, are two men. Both have oilskin capes drawn up over their heads and both slow their steps slightly when the green lands and her rider dismounts. A short break in the pelt of rain sees one of the pair flipping back the hood of his cape to reveal short raven hair that matches the few days worth of stubble coating his jaw and sharp pale green eyes. Eyes which flick over the young woman on approach. As she nears, so the male's mouth tilts to one side in something stuck between a smirk and a smile while his companion is openly appreciative of feminine curves.

Myziri doesn't pay a whole hell of a lot of attention to the two men as she moves toward them beyond a cursory glance as she makes for the tavern, her need for whiskey much more of a priority than wondering about a pair who have obviously just left it. She's not feeling particularly threatened, either, nor aware of any appreciation of her leathered form. In fact, she's inclined to just pass them by with the polite nod for them both until the one drops his hood back. Then she blinks, stares, and frowns all at once and also comes to a dead stop in the muck of the road. "What the fuck…..R'ik?" Call her confused - what the hell is he doing when he's on Weyr arrest?

There's a decidedly sly cast to the one she places as being R'ik and it rolls that smirk out into a smile that carries with it a hefty dose of black humour. Before responding to her confusion, he mutters something to his companion who gives him a long look but then finally nods and leaves. "Won't be long," the bulky redhead says and is swallowed up by the night. Back to Myziri and giving her a thorough up and down. "So…" hands shove into pockets and he rocks back on his heels. "Myziri." Slight hesitation limns the use of her name which could possibly be put down to the fact that he's apparently not where he's supposed to be. "Something I can help you with?" The gravel of his words are husky rather than rasping.

Perplexity. This is Myziri's state as R'ik speaks, and her confusion shows in her expression. "Help me? Are you drunk?" Because since when has R'ik ever offered to help her with anything? Glancing askance at him, she pushes a tendril of rain-wet hair from her face that's escaped her messy knot. "What are you doing here, anyway? You should be all nice and safe, back at the Weyr. Or are you trying to destroy yourself?" She shakes her head suddenly and puts her hands up. "No, never mind. Not my business, is it." They're done, right? Isn't that what they said, their last encounter? "Excuse me. There's a bottle of whiskey with my name on it." And she wants nothing to do with it, if the shit hits the fan.

In the face of her confusion there is only that faintly taunting air about the man. "Maybe." He states and shoulders shifting in a shrug beneath his oilskin. A devil's grin slides free and brow tilts upward, "Are you drunk?" He must be given that he doesn't seem at all affected by the questions Myziri's plying him with. Though there is a snort for being safely tucked in at the Weyr. "I'm a big boy, sweetcheeks. Reckon I can take care of myself." Telgari accent is thick and currently undiluted by Southern influence. If she's going to continue on her way then he's going to turn and fall into step with her for a distance. "Question is, can you?" Possibly he refers to her recent injury or maybe its something else entirely that's wrapped about that thin chord of darkness that drifts through sage eyes and husky voice.

Confusion remains as Myziri heads toward that whiskey. "I'm not the one just come from a tavern." she points out, as she heads to the building in quesetion; when he falls in beside her, confusion deepens; but it's the words he uses after that which bring about the first glimmers of suspicion. Because "Sweetcheeks? Seriously, what is wrong with you, R'ik?" Because she's used to him calling her names, but that ain't one of them. Head tilts so she can look sidewise at the man pacing at her side, eyes narrowing slightly "For a big boy, you seem to get yourself into fixes a lot.." she points out. "I'm not the one wanted for murder, now am I." Her response to his question is a derisive and unladylike snort. "Question is, why do you give a fuck all of a sudden?" Which right there, starts those tiny little alarm bells aringin.

"And there you go making assumptions," her newfound walking companion drawls. "You assume I came from the tavern because that's where you're headed. Maybe I came from the docks or that gambling den tucked away in the backstreets." R'ik gambles? Hey, there's a lot people don't know about him. "You don't like Sweetcheeks?" Surprise is feigned. "Could always call you Buzzkill." The smirk produced is tight around the edges. Could be he's in a hellish mood and is looking to get off on irritating the shit out of Myziri. "Ha!" A hard laugh is barked out at being wanted for murder. There is way too much amusement for that to be a good thing. "Guess I just have that kinda face, huh?" Amicable. Almost…companionable. But then this cold and wet evening does seem to be an ideal setting for the weird and wonderful. "Tsk." A soft reprimand clucked against the roof of his mouth. "Is that any way for one clutchmate to talk to another? Maybe I just feel like some company. Or maybe…" once again, that devilishly cast grin turns onto her, "I need an alibi for the night."

Now that does sound more like R'ik "You're always saying that. Maybe I wouldn't assume if you didn't talk out your ass all the time." Myziri grumbles, shrugging "Suppose you could have come from anywhere, as you say. You should be heading back to the Weyr, though. I'm a wingsecond, you know. Technically, I'm going to have to report you being out here." Even if she doesn't really want to. "Where you shouldn't be." Seriously, why's he gotta make her pull rank like that? And then she stops dead, staring at him. "If you want company…" she begins slowly, eyes narrowing. "I can think of about a hundred other people you'd rather hang out with than me." Possibly two hundred. "What have you gotten yourself in to this time, that you would stoop to using me as an alibi?" Because surely no one would believe R'ik willingly sought Myz for fun.

"Oooooo." Hands are pulled from pockets and waggled in the air in mock fear. "Scary wingsecond." Followed by another of those tongue clucks. "Nice to know you've got my back, sister." He sounds more bored by her threat than he does upset or worried. Still walking and idly kicking at a stone here and there with the worn out brown leather boots he's wearing. She stops and he carries on walking for a bit. But then he too stops, turns around and fixes Myziri with an amused look. "Stoop, huh? If you cast your mind back, you will remember that I had company." The big red-haired bugger he'd sent away. "And then I didn't. But now I do again. Course if you're gonna be a bitch about it, you're gonna have to buy your own bottle of oblivion. And to think," he starts to walk backwards wearing a shiteating grin, "I was even gonna order one to take away."

"Every time I have your back, you turn it on me." Myziri says, "So go fuck yourself. I'm done, remember?" Frown remains in place, despite his obvious amusement She begins walking again, expression sour. "But that's exactly my point - you had company, so why'd you send it away and settle for me? You don't even like me, R'ik." She points out, swiping at a bothersome trick of moisture on her forehead. "I'm surprised Hrykeluth would even take you out of the Weyr…" speaking of which - she looks around "Where'd you stash him, anyway?" Bronze dragon's kindo f big to hide, right?

And once again they're at odds for Myziri is all frowny and sour and he…well, he just laughs at her. The matter of his companion that he'd sent away is conveniently ignored and instead the topic of whether he likes her or not is picked up with a drawled, "Don't I? Huh." He seems to give that some thought for a while before casting a sidelong look the greenrider's way. "You wound me." Hand to heart. "Maybe you just need to be nicer to me. Bring me booze and shit." Yup, still no growling. Just that devil-may-care attitude. "And then maybe," his voice drops a few registers to a lazy feline purr, "I'll be nicer to you, hmm?" A waggle of black brows ensues and is followed with a shrug. "O'course if you wanna wrestle it out we can do that too but I ain't gonna give you any lead advantage." As for the dragon supposedly attached to him there's a nonchalant shrug. "He's down on a beach somewhere." Possibly mimicking a big boulder. Coming toward them is another male with a cap pulled down low over his eyes and ears. His presence flirts Myziri's companion thattaway. All show of congeniality falls away to be replaced with steel wires of tension. The capped male flicks his fingers and pulls the raven-haired male to his side. A few terse words are exchanged with one or two looks shot the greenrider's way. One word might be overheard. Something that sounds like – Jude. Or was it 'chewed' or due? Then another – Map. A sharp nod from the one tagged as R'ik and the stranger peels away and continues on his path away from the tavern.

"You know, if I didn't know better, I'd say you had a case of brain fever." Like Myziri did the other day, on the beach "Because you are not acting like yourself." She's back to perplexed more than anything, giving him queer looks every once in a while as they get closer to the tavern. Because R'ik does not laugh and jest with her, and certainly he never flirts with her. Which makes her blink. "You and Hannah on the outs or something?" is wondered, with a shake of the head "Or are you just messing with me?" She doesn't seem to care about an answer, just waves a hand at him "And why would I bring you booze? You don't even drink." Which immediately brings back the suspicious look - because what in the hell is going on here? When R'ik is pulled away by another nefarious person, that seems to be the final straw. "Okay, that's it." As soon as he returns, she lays in to him; arms akimbo, she stares narrowe eyed "You're on something, aren't you. Being weyrbound has finally driven you to sniffing glue or something, right?" Becuase he has totally got to be high.

He is very good this night at eeling passed the remarks he doesn't want to touch to pull alongside those he'll give consideration and comment on. Such as this one which produces for the first time this night a hint R'ik's usual brooding self, "Hannah's busy." That's all he says on that matter and glides to the next topic with an exaggerated roll of eyes. "That you know of," he says of his apparent teetotal status before he's drawn aside by that other fellow. When he turns to find himself stuck with Myziri staring at him, his grin becomes entirely wolfish. And not in a good or flirtatious way. No, to this there is the black edge of a predator that hunts for the thrill of the kill rather than the thrill of the hunt itself. And when he laughs again, its low and relished with the dirt of a graveyard. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, greenrider." Glancing in the direction the other stranger had departed in, his feet start to move that way right as the rain starts to come down again. "Don't stay out too late, there's bad things out there in the dark." Ticking two fingers off the side of his temple in a brash salute, the hood is pulled back up over his head and he takes off at a jog. Falling into step with the stranger, the pair are soon rejoined by Big Red with all three leaving the road itself to follow a narrower path that cuts down a cliff to the beach far below it.

"Whiskey helps me sleep at night. Pains in my ass do not." Myziri says, another scowl appearing - which would be R'ik, at this point. "And if I were Hannah, I'd be busy too when you start acting like an ass." Like, right now. But then he's doing his disappearing act, right when they get near the tavern, and that scowl turns to confusion again; because who are these people R'ik is hanging with? "I could say the same for you - Go home!" She calls after him, before shaking her head - because when did a certain stupid bronzerider ever listen to her? She gives a huff of annoyance, then turns to find that drink - and maybe a few more than she had meant to have before her encounter with her jekyl and hyde clutchmate. "What the fuck is he up to?" is muttered to herself as she disappears through the door. She's going to ask him - the very next time she sees him.

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