El'ai, T'zaim


Bronzeriders talk about bronzerider things.

All the -mentions. :p


It is midmorning of the twenty-second day of the fifth month of the seventh turn of the 12th pass.


Lower Bowl, Southern Weyr

OOC Date 16 Mar 2016 04:00


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"I'll put you down for some K'ane."


Lower Bowl

Cobblestones sweep as far as the eye can see, a unique feature to the lower section of the bowl — but necessary, perhaps, as the stepped western bowl drains off into this high-trafficked area. The shallow bowl is bounded by craggy-black bowlwall with entrances pockmarked - and some boarded over in an effort to prevent entry from un-renovated caverns. Directly south, the wall neatly crumbles away to roll southerly into rollicking fields of soft hills; a glance of the stables can be seen through the gap, nestled against the entrance bridge that spans westward.

It was raining. In the morning. It rained donkey balls, essentially, but now the clouds have spent themselves, blowing their load before lunch so that the bowl is a glittering paradise of butter yellow light and massive, deep puddles. Chilly enough that El'ai is bundled in his Ocelot jacket, the bronzerider stands off to the side with a most impatient face. Even with the foot tapping. Maybe the day's already becoming an annoyance. His dragon is off in the wild blue, killing or eating or whatever. A cart rolls by and happens to MEGA SPLASH through a puddle that clips some douchebag who's hogging the available lanes as people FLOCK through the weyr entrance, clogging it up with a traffic jam. Not a drop in the sky - yet. Let's be real, autumn ain't over yet so clouds lurk on the horizon, but with lunch time looming, there's a few candlemarks yet before the second storm hits. "Motherfucker!" El'ai jumps back when a runner-driven cart barrels towards the weyr's entrance, heading out rather than in.

T'zaim seriously needs something to do. Like, for reals. Coming up wit bits of business for him is impossible! Like, right now, the best I can do? He's on his way out of the living caverns, probably having had breakfast and a bath and all that normal morning routine stuff usually reserved for people with things to do. He hesitates, checks the sky, dares to venture into this mud-puddle paradise, hears someone shout 'motherfucker!' at the top of their lungs, hooks a sharp left in the opposite direction (fight for flight? flight every time), and only just happens to notice that it's El'ai, so he winds up basically doing a complete 360 right outside the caverns entrance. "Maybe you're next," he calls.

"Don't count on it!" El'ai tosses back, turning his attention on the Weyrlingmaster as soon as the man's exited the caverns. "Your lazy times are up," he jokes, motioning T'zaim over and waving a scrap of hide. What is this hide? T'zaim will have to get a lot closer to see it. But of course, another cart goes whizzing by and more dragons land and well - it's a gauntlet, T'zaim. With puddles and mud and all of that. "Oh - you seen Bailey per chance?" Also yelled across whatever distance still separates them.

See, unlike that stupid Frogger, T'zaim has no panicky need to cross this terrifying gauntlet. He'll just wait here until it's safer, and they can shout awkwardly across the distance - which is less awkward than if he were to get mowed down by a fast-moving wagon. "I prefer the term 'well-deserved rest.'" For, like, a year or something. Anyway. He chances in that direction now that it seems like no one is going to run him down, so \o/ "Not today. Why?" A look darts over his shoulder, in case she's there. Because then he might have to run away, which is less \o/ and more :(

El'ai waits on the other side of the frogger-like gauntlet while T'zaim crosses - or starts to? - it when a lull has hit. "Lazy bum!" the wingleader reiterates with laughter, "But you see what's happening lately?" And he'll just wait until they're not shouting awkwardly. "All those bronzes and browns? Starting to get a whiff of something." Like a FLIGHT. "I think your days are numbered, but I'm also afraid of what it will mean for all the shit going down when everyone's eye is turned to Dhiammarath and possibly Khalyssrielth… and not what's happening IN the weyr." El'ai shrugs and shakes his head, "No reason," EXCEPT THERE'S CLEARLY A REASON, "Just hunting for her."

Does he see what's happening? "No?" Thankfully, El'ai goes on to explain, and T'zaim ahhhs and nods and looks around the watery vicinity for any sniffing bronzes and browns. His eyes fail to find one - El'ai's own is off feeding, and he's never 100% sure what Denivoth is doing - and return to the task at hand, meaning he makes it through the terror-maze with only one big splash when a wagon hits a puddle and splooshes him up to mid-calf. It fails to faze him. "If Khalyssrielth is going to rise, I'm going to leave, so - just. I took one for the team last time." He clears his throat.

El'ai stares at T'zaim and laughs. Just laughs. "Well you never know, Denivoth could chase Dhiammarath and win." T'zaim. YOU COULD BE WEYRLEADER. Just think of it. "I think that Khalyssrielth tends to favor a new flavor of mate with each flight." The young man thinks back to his sister's flights and frowns. Squints. "Or I could be wrong and she could be WAITING for you." Erm. "Denivoth. Khalyssrielth can be…" What's a nice word for his sister's gold? Reaching… reaching… reaching… "Tricky. Anyway, you'll have a flood of weyrlings… BUT if you are going to be trying to escape what's happening like I am." No way does El'ai want Weyrleader, "Then I think we should try to like… keep an eye on the weyr. Maybe stake out the cave entrance down by the river. So the weyr isn't with its pants down when everyone's caught up in the Flight." C'mon, it's strategery.

T'zaim contributes, in exactly the same 'not to be a jerk' tone as before, "If Dhiammarath is going to rise, I'm going to leave." There's a brief pause, during which El'ai goes on to make things worse by continuing to talk about it, and then he summarizes, "Basically, when any of them are going to rise, I'm just going to leave." He squints uncertainly at the idea of staking out a cave, tilting his head deeper while the other guy talks, until he finally just asks, "That's an interesting concept. Though one would hope that the guards? Or the several hundred green and blueriders… Unless you just want some alone time with me, in which case, okay. I'm not picky."

El'ai laughs, but handwaves T'zaim's fleeing from the golds. That's neither here nor there. "Yes, some of the rest of us that are fleeing and those that aren't involved could keep an eye on the weyr. I'm just saying… people get caught up in a goldflight." It's common to have all the sexxors happen! "Especially a senior flight." He gives T'zaim a look, but then down at his list. "Anyway, I'm just trying to recruit as many people who aren't involved as possible to ensure that not all eyes are on the rising gold. And also to take bets. So you want in?" The man waves his hide again. It's a strange juxtaposition, but at least it's never a dull day around El'ai, right?

People get caught up in a goldflight - "Do they? I hadn't noticed," T'zaim says to the guy that almost banged his own sister in the middle of a fancy party. He shakes his head at the end, though, dismissing both his own deadpan variety of humor (he thinks he's funny, anyway) and El'ai's question: "I'm sorry, I'm still confused as to what exactly you're asking. We're going to sit in a cave and watch the Weyr and gamble?" More squinting.

Just because T'zaim can't keep up… "No, not sit in the cave. Just… sweep up the river." T'zaim was in Ocelot once! "Make sure dipshits aren't approaching our weyr, and the gambling is for now." It's like fantasy football but for dragons. "I'm asking if you want in on who might get Weyrleader." Shoving the hide in T'zaim's face, there at the top, rests T'zaim's name. "Yeah, yeah, I'll cross you off. But still, you want to pick the fatty on row three? Or the put your marks on our existing Weyrleader? Or maybe Cha'el will swoop in and take the spot again?" They are kindred spirits (kind of) in the fact that El'ai absolutely is not going to be anywhere near that gold when she flies.

It's possible that T'zaim is this dense. Regardless, having it spelled out helps, and he oohhhhhhhs in bright-eyed realization. "I can do that," he decides finally, nodding and holding the hide with his thumb and forefinger. To make it stay still so he can read it. "Just as long as it's nice and far from the Weyr. That's flattering, though." He releases the hide, flicks his place at the top of the list (that includes a fatty and K'ane, so maybe it's not actually all that flattering, really?), and concludes, "I'll put my marks on K'ane. In the interests of wishful thinking."

"I'll put you down for some K'ane," El'ai grins, wickedly. There's a lot of names in there, including just about every single brown and bronzerider from the last clutch. As well as some from other wings. "Sweet. I plan to be far enough away that Sekhaenkath cannot even feel the need to chase." Because, hahahahahaha, hell no. He'll let the others take one for the team. "It might be someone surprising. Just so long as they aren't taking each other's heads… I think we'll be okay." No highlander offing, kthx. "The baby golds ain't gone up yet either. You could possibly have four clutches of eggs at one time, dude." Yeah, El'ai dun feel sorry for T'zaim right now. Poor bastard. Better T'zaim than El'ai!

"I no longer believe in surprises. It will probably be that guy that hates me," he fingernail-points to R'ik, "and then he can fire me and find some other sucker to tackle four clutches at once." T'zaim beams prettily. "Hey, maybe they could make you take the job! It's a step-sideways, sure, but they could give your job to - who's your Wingsecond? The one that told me to shove my head up my ass?"

"Say what. Uh-uh. I'm not getting MORE work on me," El'ai seems pretty convinced of this. In fact, he's as convinced that he's not getting more rank as T'zaim is that T'zaim can totally just disappear when all four golds fly. It happens, totes. "That guy hates you? I don't know much about that guy, except that my sister would cut his liver out and feed it to Khalyssrielth if she could." Maybe he jokes? Bailey likes to throw around insults. "Though that's because my sister's protective of her bestie. Anyway, my money's on the guy that comes out of nowhere." Maybe El'ai points to a name. "F'hil me?" Hah, hah. Funny. Hah hah. Right?

T'zaim, still smiling, says, "Famous last words," and shrugs about who's going to wind up heaped with responsibilities. It's a lot easier to be cavalier about it after having <however many months, I really think it's like a year> off. "Mhm," with the hate. "He tried to sell me something stolen, I hit him over the head with a guitar, it was a bad first impression all around." Another shrug. "So it will probably be him, and not F'hil. F'hil is all right."

"It could always be that dude's friend," El'ai points out, flicking Sa'mael's name where it sits next to Th'seus's. "Personally, I think that guy would burn the weyr down, but hey, what do I know? Seems strange to pick the leader of the weyr based on who fucks the senior queen rather than like the guy with the most skill." He takes his hide back and rolls it up and stuffs it into his pocket. "But then what do I know, questioning a millenia of the evolutionary practices of dragons." This idea must not really bother El'ai for he gives a cheshire cat grin that has a certain mark of devilry to it. "Either way, I'm hoping to make some marks on whomever wins and that it's not me trying to win." BECAUSE THAT WOULD BE FAIL.

"Possibly. Though, at least with that one, I feel like he'd just have to get someone else to do everything for him. Which wouldn't be a bad thing. Just that I don't think he has either the motivation or the skill to actually manage a Weyr." T'zaim shrugs again, the whole matter ultimately really being an SEP (somebody else's problem). With a laugh at the end, he adds, "Well, you could always go for it, and then just let Lisette actually do everything." SPEAKING OF FAIL.

"I do NOT pawn my problems off on Lisette," El'ai protests, shrugging for T'zaim's comments on Sa'mael - he's not on his own personal list either, but hey stranger things have happened. "I didn't say I couldn't do it, but that I didn't want to." There's a difference, T'zaim. A DIFFERENCE. "And you'd be surprised what people have what skills when push comes to shove." Now El'ai is thoughtful, but then shakes his head. "I enjoy my wing and someday, I will scoop you back into the fold, my friend." YES. Back to OCELOT. With the cool jacket.

T'zaim holds up his palms and notes, "I didn't mean to imply that you couldn't do it. Merely that Lisette could and probably wouldn't mind." He ahems notably and maybe dives into another conversational pool instead: "No, your Wingsecond told me to stick my head up my ass. If I do wind up getting fired and/or quitting and don't just drop dead, I think I'll beg my way into Serval. They give me liquor." See above re: he's not picky.

El'ai's eyes narrow. "He said what?" Well isn't this a disappointment! Which shows in the way the Wingleader frowns and folds his arms across his chest. "You can't go into Serval," he points out, "So it'd be Lynx for you. Or maybe Jaguar, but you said that one guy hates you. So… Lynx." But El'ai will still get T'zaim back to Ocelot, SOMEHOW. Of course, right now, the only times someone's given up WLM is through death, so. T'zaim's safe!… kinda. "I want to know more about what K'vvan said and the circumstances he said it in." Maybe T'zaim kicked him in the nuts! Or maybe, he went all crazy off on poor T'zaim for no reason. The jury's out.

"Literally, that is all he said to me. I said, 'I don't think you should go down there,' and he said, 'stick your head up your ass.'" There's a brief pause afterward, during which T'zaim pats his pockets and then adds, "Those aren't exact quotes. I could get you the exact quotes - " Hence the pocket-patting. " - but I'd have to go to my weyr, and I'm not entirely certain what Denivoth is doing…" He trails off and waves away the thought - it's a whole big thing - to conclude, "But that's roughly the entire conversation." There's no particular venom about it, for the record; it's just a Thing That Happened. "It made me miss Yules's particular brand of crisp formality is all."

"Looks like I need to have a talk with K'vvan about employing his inside thoughts rather than letting them escape to the outside," El'ai sighs, rubbing his temples. "He's skilled in getting the formations, but - " He pauses and shakes his head, saying only, "I'll take care of it." Because Ocelot is not going to be known at talking uppity to upper brass and whether T'zaim wants to admit it or not, he's on par with the likes of Cha'el and K'lir! "I do miss Yules. I liked serving as her Wingsecond." For a moment, he's wistful. "Truthfully, I've often wondered if I should be leading the wing." But he shrugs, not particularly emo about it either.

Again, with the waving, no, don't; "At least, don't do it on my account. I don't know him from Adam." Or whatever the Perny version of that saying would be. "Maybe someone had just killed his dog or something, and I came along at the wrong time." T'zaim shrugs about it, noting, "Should any of us really be doing any of this? At the end of the day, we're just people who were in the right - or perhaps wrong - place at the right time. Besides, depending on who wins, we might both get fired." Another beam. "Brought it full circle there, see."

El'ai doesn't comment - but there's a question of rank here and a rank that needs to be observed. "Hah!" The bronzerider laughs. "Could be, could be. So if that happens, let's go have mimosas in Ista… Actually." He looks around, a touch shadey. "Rather than worry about the weyr and stupid smuggler stalkers who probably would have no business trying to get caught up in the goldflights," because there could be a lot of boinking going on in the catacombs, "Let's just go to Ista. Sit at the Sandbar," the bar, "and drink mimosas and write in our journals." Listen, his might not be full of rainbow unicorns, but he does actually write down Sekhaenkath's penchant for stories. Also, it's a joke. "Okay maybe not the journal part, but definitely the Ista part."

"As romantic as that sounds," T'zaim shakes his head. He also gets hit with a lovely fat raindrop right around then and adds, "I was going somewhere ahead of the rain." i.e., he'll just be moving on now.

Awww, he scared the Weyrlingmaster away! El'ai lets it roll right off of him, giving a smirky little wave as he turns and heads off in a different direction. Quite possibly to get more people for his proverbial fantasy Weyrleader pool. Listen, doesn't that sound amazing?

A fantasy Weyrleader pool does sound amazing. I would jump in, head-first.

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