Who

Ivy Rhydian

What

Ivy and Rhydian meet over breakfast.

When

It is evening of the twenty-fifth day of the tenth month of the second turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Igen Weyr Living Cavern

OOC Date

 

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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.


The aftermath of the day's sandstorm is still being very much felt, as the air remains heavy and dusty outside despite the oncoming evening cool. There's plenty of folks hiding out inside still, where dinnertime food and drink is still being served. Most of the tables are full, as it happens, though there's one a little way away from the service area that still has a few seats on it. Rhydian is there, having recently set down if his full plate is anything to go by. He's tapping a pencil against a hide, letting his meal go cold.

Hunger has driven Ivy out into the dust and crowds, things she ordinarily avoids if at all possible. The slip of a brownriders eels her way through the lines at the service area with a few quick nods and smiles to acquaintances, mostly wingmates, before venturing forth for a seat as far away from the bustle as possible. Instead she has to settle for a seat that's available, and drops into one next to Rhydian with another polite flicker of a smile, probably preferring to settle next to someone who has an activity on hand, though her eyes linger on the hide with some curiosity. "Evening," she greets decorously before she tucks neatly into her meal.

There's an unknown person joining him to eat, and Rhydian looks up at her, blinking and pushing his glasses up his nose. "Oh, um… hello. Evening." He does a quick take of the brownrider, glancing over her with a gently smile curling up the corner of his mouth. "It's, ah, it's busy in here, isn't it? Um… people hiding from the, uh, dust, I suppose." Smalltalk. He's… awkward at it, but capable of it at least.

And there's some dust now, as Ivy unwinds a blue scarf from around her neck and shakes it out surreptitiously under the table. She wrinkles her nose wryly, surveying the packed room. "Mm," she agrees, letting a swallow of redfruit juice clear her throat. "Cold and dusty, brings everyone in. I try to avoid it but I ate the last of the food I had in my weyr at lunch." Ivy is no extrovert herself, but she can smalltalk with the skill of a holdergirl brought up proper-like. "Have you not been here long?" she guesses cautiously.

Rhydian shakes his head. "Not long at all, really, but, um, I'd been here plenty before moving here… uh… a sevenday ago." He has to quickly work out how long he's been there, before shrugging off the vagueness of time. "I, ah, actually sort of study the sandstorms. Not the last one, but most of them. I was, um, indisposed for most of today… doing other things."

Ivy doesn't press on the vaguaries, but Rhydian's choice of day to day activities brings more than mere polite interested from the brownrider. "You…study them? Why?" Another glance at the hide in front of him, in case maybe he's written some clues on it, and she adds after a nibble on a crust of bread on her plate, "And how?"

"Why is as simple as, um, I like storms and so I've been studying them for, uh… for several turns now. It's a sub-specialty that's, hah, sort of become my main, um, career focus." Rhydian flicks at the knot on his shoulder, that shows him as being in the Starcraft. "How is… is a little more complicated. Um, there's lots of, ah, technical sort of, well, tools, and things, and I measure things like windspeed, visibility, um… duration… things like that. I'm trying to work out a, um, pattern."

Ivy glances at the knot and gives a little nod, apparently seeing no glaringly obvious reason why Starcraft and stormchasing should not co-exist. "Do you measure those things on the ground? Or do you have to go up in the air to do it? What kind of pattern? Is it just sandstorms, or do you like other types too? I enjoy a really nice thunderstorm myself, though I could do without the monsoons." The brownrider pops bites of dinner in among the slew of questions, because she's ladylike, but also hungry.

Rhydian blinks at Ivy. She likes thunderstorms? His eyes widen, and his grin slowly grows as he leans towards her. "You like thunderstorms?" This is a little snippet of knowledge that apparently excites him. "I love thunderstorms. They're my favourites. And twisters and cyclones and hurricanes and… all of those. They're why I got into this." And he talks much more fluidly when he's discussing his true passion. "Thunder is… and lightning, I mean… just wow. So much energy. They make a storm beautiful."

"Yeah. Where I grew up, you couldn't see the thunderstorms so well. But here, I can sit up on my ledge and watch them rolling in. It's lovely, though doing sweeps in them isn't always pleasant." Ivy allows a more genuine smile at Rhydian's sudden enthusiasm. "And then with the dust storms the sand gets in everywhere. But the lightning in those is really impressive. I've never seen a twister. Well, just the little dusty ones. Have you been here for one of the monsoons yet?"

"Where did you grow up? If it's, um, alright for me to ask that?" Rhydian pushes his plate aside so he can lean on the table, all the better to talk to Ivy. "I've been flown through several storms, um, I commission the services of whichever riders are, uh, free and willing, really… though I know you're all so busy with thread, so, ah…" He shrugs, letting that trail off into nothingness. "I've not seen an Igen monsoon yet, but I've seen plenty elsewhere on Pern. I'm, uh, I'm Rhydian, by the way."

Ivy delicately stabs at a few bits of tuber with her fork. "Igen River Hold. It's not that far away, but it's much greener there. Really different from here." The corners of her mouth turn down briefly as she repeats wistfully, "Really different," before finishing up the last of her dinner. Rhydian's not terribly subtle longing for a volunteer storm-dragon and pilot bring a birdlike head-tilt, then a quirk of a smile. "Yeah, we are busy but…when I have to do sweeps in bad weather, I could probably bring you along. If you wanted. Oh!" The startlement of a well-mannered girl who /forgot/ to introduce herself. "I'm Ivy. Brown Udath's. So, you know, there's plenty of room for passengers."

"Igen River Hold… I think I've been there." Rhydian nods thoughfully, sliding his klah mug across to sip from it. It's got to be cold by now, but that doesn't seem to bother him. And he's just becoming more and more enamoured with Ivy, with her offering her and her dragon being an even bigger cherry on top of their conversation cake. "Could you? That would be… I mean, wow, yeah - thanks. I get a few, um, volunteers occasionally, but not often a brown dragon, so, ah, I'm guessing he'll - I mean, I don't really know about this since I'm, uh, not really clued in and all, but - I'm guessing he'll have more strength against winds? Um… not that I'd ever ask you to put him or yourself in danger, of course." He's quick to add that last bit.

"He corners like a river barge," Ivy offers with a flash of a grin, affection for the beast clear in her tone. "Oh, I'm not worried about that. Udath wouldn't do anything that might be dangerous. He's very protective. And it's not like we wouldn't already be out in it anyway. I volunteer for sweeps a lot because it's, you know." she cuts a little look again at the crowd in the cavern, though it's thinned a little since she first sat down. "Quiet.

Rhydian nods in understanding. "Quiet is much easier to work with," he says, drawing his mug up to his lips to drink his cold klah again. "I'm more used to working through the night when it's quiet, than, ah, being around at such busy times. Starcraft sort of, ah, breeds nocturnal members, even if I'm not studying stars at the moment." He gives a little shrug of his shoulders, then smiles across at Ivy. "So, um, Ivy… when do you think you might be able to take me up? I'll, er, maybe have to adjust my schedule a little to fit yours."

Ivy lifts her shoulders with a little sigh. "That sounds nice. Being able to work all night, when no one else is around." She idly dabs at a few crumbs on the table with her fingertip and brushes them off on her plate while she frowns a little, thinking through the schedule. "I don't have sweeps again until after the next Fall, which is in a few days…so maybe a sevenday from now? Then I'll be on evening sweeps for four days in a row and maybe the weather will be nasty for some of those. I can send a firelizard if you want, if conditions look good. Or bad, I guess."

"Oh yes, that sounds good. Very good, actually, um… do you know ahead of time what your sweep route will be? Because, uh, I have notes about certain areas, and, ah, I can check them and maybe bring some along, so I have notes to, um, to compare." Rhyd leans back so he can slide the piece of hide he was working on forward, tapping his pencil against it again. "I've been tracking big storm patterns over Igen for, um… well, a good few turns now. First to try and, uh, see what the correlation is between weather and thread, and then to, er… well, um, now I'm trying to see if there's any way to better predict, uh, tornados. Like they get in Keroon."

Ivy leans forward to check out the notes, concentrating very hard on the hide with a tiny frown on her lips and murmuring, "Red Butte for the most recent lot. But it changes, and sometimes I cover for other riders, so if you want somewhere else in particular it'll probably come up before long." Looking up from the hide she adds, "Is there one? A correlation, I mean? Or do you need more figures to know?"

Rhydian scribbles on his hide. "Red Butte will do fine, um… yeah. It's good." He nods, looking up to Ivy and smiling. Then her question has him thinking. "Well, we were, um, studying weather patterns to see if they predicted the arrival of thread, um, before it started to fall. It's hard to tell how, ah, successful we were, because… well, our results will only really be put to the test before the next Pass, so…" He shrugs. "Unless you know some riders who can, uh, jump me ahead to then…"

When Rhydian starts scribbling, Ivy gives up on trying to read the notes altogether. "Oh," she replies faintly. "I don't know a lot about the jumping around in time. I wasn't one of the ones who did that. And I don't know very many riders that well anyway, but I can try to keep an ear out, if you like."

"Oh, um… I was only joking." Rhydian blushes, biting down on his lip. "I don't know if I could - if I'd want to jump into the future anyway, um… it'd be weird. Maybe nice to see if our theories pan out, but… yeah. No. Flitting through, um, time is not my idea of fun." He drinks from his klah mug once more, upending it to finish what's left in it. "I, er… I ought to go start working. But it's been a pleasure to meet you, Ivy."

That's a bit awkward, but fairly typical of the overly earnest brownrider. "Oh. Uhm…yeah, I think it's weird too." Ivy pushes back from the table and gets to her feet as Rhydian starts to make his own goodbyes. "Very nice to meet you too. If I don't see you again before sweeps, I'll track you down in a sevenday, okay?" She ties her scraf around her neck once more and, with a small shy wave, ducks back out into what is hopefully no longer that sandy of a sandstorm.

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