Dinah, G'deon, Ryker


Dinah thinks she's above the white-knotted Ryker, so G'deon decides to do something about that.


It is afternoon of the twenty-second day of the fourth month of the seventh turn of the 12th pass.


Living Cavern, Igen Weyr

OOC Date 06 Mar 2016 07:00


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Living Cavern

Dim light from hanging glow-globes cannot fully camouflage the ravages of time and neglect on Igen's busy living caverns, though hints of its former glory peek through in the decorative cuts to the cave's natural limestone and the high quality of dusty, tatty-ended tapestries. Here and there, skybroom tables — stained dark by wood finish and a decade of grime — sit in loose groups, flanked by wicker chairs with pointy, broken rattan that pokes out to invariably find unprotected skin. The seemingly randomly placed furniture, however, at closer inspection, forms a sort of cross-shape of negative space. At the northernmost walls and nooks of the caverns, a long buffet table with tarnished lazy susans hosts an array of finger-foods and pitchers for the interested, refilled occasionally by drudges that shuffle in from the curtained entrance to the south, beyond which lies the kitchens. To the east is a large arch leading outside and, across from that, to the west, a set of rattling doors that open to reveal the tunnels and stairs of the inner caverns themselves.

It is the eighty-second day of Spring and 82 degrees. It is a bright, sunny day.

Afternoon in the Living Caverns, and the usual story plays out: people coming, going, and milling about, others seated, eating and conversing — life in a Weyr never really stops; it simply unfolds as it will over the course of the day, providing rich fodder for the nosy among the denizens. And one such nosy girl is settled at a corner table, scrap paper in hand and chin on palm: Dinah, dark eyes darting hither and yon, yon and hither, watching everything with bright curiosity.

G'deon walks in from the direction of the bowl, accompanied by a pair of dragonhealers who have seen better days. They finish their discussion shortly after entering, however, with the two heading toward an inner cavern corridor, leaving G'deon to see what might be left from the lunch offerings. The pickings are still fairly varied, but as the leadership table is in the process of being cleared and cleaned, he heads toward an out-of-the way table instead, nodding to Dinah as he helps himself to a chair, then to a big glass of water. "Whats' the story today?"

Dinah squeaks, having somehow missed G'deon's entrance, then glowers at him for a long moment before giving up her attempt to look mildly threatening — she can tell, it isn't going to work. Will pouting work instead? One hopes. "Other than you just popping up out of nowhere?" Never mind the fact that he just walked over, bold as day. "Well, there's betting on the eggs, as is usual, I presume, in a Weyr," Dinah begins ticking ff the rumors n long fingers. "And then there's the scuttlebutt about that really old dude over there — " A finger picks out old Jorarly, slumped in a corner. " — trying to convince that old auntie that they should be an item."

A young man enters the living caverns and ends up not far from where G'deon and Dinah converse. The incoming Ryker's clothes show clear residue of a morning's work in the stables, whilst his plate shows a preference for healthier options than the majority of the greasy fare frequently offered for lunch. His eyes scan the table, offering Dinah a clipped nod and G'deon the far more traditional salute and a half-voiced, "Sir," as he sits a seat or two down.

G'deon lifts his glass toward Ryker as he joins them at the table. He seems to mull over Dinah's updates for a moment before spearing some veggies on his fork. "In other words, business as usual," he replies the next moment, eyes twinkling before he pops the food into his mouth. "It's always a little strange when we go so long between Threadfalls. At first, it's relaxing. Then people get restless and turn to baser distractions. A bit dangerous." He's not particularly trying to make sense. Just rambling. Going by the deep, dark bags under his eyes, he's going on less sleep than usual, though he seems cheerful enough. He turns back to Ryker finally and points his empty fork at the tall young man. "And how are things in your corner?"

Dinah's glance takes in Ryker and his dirty clothes with an arch of her eyebrows, but makes no verbal comment, but it's there, that 'ew' which carries overtones of high falutin' disgust at the evidence of menial work. Crossing her legs beneath the table, sshe looks away, studying her too-clean fingernails for a long moment before she offers a grin at G'deon, nodding. "Got it in one." SHe lifts her shoulders in a dismissive shrug, however, discounting the mundane-ness of life in a Weyr when Thread isn't falling on their heads. "Hmph. Is that what al that skulking about the Bazaar is about? People looking for trouble?"

Ryker apparently considers Dinah's reaction to the state of his garb — acceptable, given the sardonic cant of his mouth and rolling amusement in murky grey-green eyes for her little 'ew' look. "Miss," is what he'll deliberately greet her after. He's settled himself naturally in a way to have his back against the far wall, allowing him facility to see those coming and going - for far different reasons than Dinah herself. G'deon attracts his attention and after swallowing a bite of broccoli he responds, "As well as can be expected, sir." When the hell did he become RESPECTFUL? "Other than finding myself actually missing patrol." He gestures faintly to the knot on his shoulder and shoves another bite of food into his mouth.

G'deon begins to make more progress with his meal, apparently on a schedule going by the efficiency. Or maybe that's just how he eats. It's his turn to shrug as he gives Dinah a brief smile. "That, I don't know. Knowing the bazaar, could just be business as usual there, too. Maybe the families are about to square off or something." Said with the relaxed demeanour of "Someone else's problem". "Good to know, though. Might have to keep the weyrlings under escort." He pauses, tapping his fork quietly on a piece of bread before he resumes eating. Ryker's last comment brings an amused reaction from the old man. "We all have to make adjustments in our lives over the course of time. Of course, if you find you miss it more than you want to Stand…" He trails off, waving a hand in a gesture that's clearly leaving that in Ryker's hands.

"Someone else's problem" is a lovely philosophy, one Dinah cherishes with all her heart and soul, when she's not busy indulging her curiosity about everything under Rukbat's hot eye. Meanwhile, she'll wipe the cheeky grin off her face while Ryker's not looking and pretend she wasn't looking down her nose at him just moments ago. "Oh, so you're gonna Stand, too? With the…. eggs?" Her eyes are wide and innocent, and very, very interested in hi thoughts. "Do you have a favorite yet? They're all very…. interesting, aren't they?" Answer carefully, Ryker; she's looking for the juicy bits.

Ryker seems more content to sit and watch and listen than participate, though the curdling edges of his native, sour personality crop up in the flat disdain that distorts his face at some of the people passing by. He's brought back to the here-and-now first by G'deon, whose words prompt that cop-face professional neutrality: "Absolutely," he confirms without actually saying anything. To Dinah, he just shakes his head. "I haven't seen any of them up-close." Apparently that is enough to forbear from further remarks.

G'deon is watching Dinah rather closely at this point, now and then letting his gaze flick toward Ryker, but then back again. "You will soon," he promises vaguely, regarding those eggs. Including both of them, apparently, because his next words are, "I think you're going to Stand with Ryker here, too," as he settles that grandfatherly gaze on Dinah's face. Isn't he supposed to give her a choice? "I think you need to spend some time with your equals." He gets up, abandoning his meal, then makes a shooshing motion toward Dinah, gesturing for her to leave the table.

Dinah stares, and stares some more. "Wh-what?!" Confusion, however, is G'deon's friend, for even as she's protesting the decision that's been made for her, she's rising to follow because one simply must obey one's elders, right? Right! She does, however, throw an accusatory glance over her shoulder at Ryker, because this is all his fault, it really is, with his dirty, dirty clothes and his close-mouthed ways.

Startlement gently touches Ryker's face at G'deon's pronouncement, but it smooths away evenly as he turns the full brunt of his attention to Dinah — the better to watch that reaction, of course. If he smirks at her when they leave, well, it's because he's an asshole. But to G'deon he's all two-faced assent, ducking his head briefly in fare-thee-well.

G'deon gives Ryker a brief salute, technically correct, if not as crisp as it should be. "If you'll excuse us," G'deon says with a warm grin before turning to escort Dinah toward the barracks.

Ryker returns the salute, guard-flawless executed with a brute's grace. "Sir," is his end-note, before he returns to the most important thing in the room - the remains of his plate.

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