A'hali, Amani, Elonoora, Ibrahim, R'zel, Rielle, Tommin. Vani, Va'os, Varden, Z'bor


Fun in the foam at the Boardwalk Gather.


It is sunrise of the tenth day of the first month of the thirteenth turn of the 12th pass.


Boardwalk and surrounding beach, Southern Weyr

OOC Date 21 Jan 2018 00:00


a-hali_default.jpg amani_default.jpg elonoora_default.jpg ibrahim_default.jpg r-zel_default.jpg rielle_default.jpg tommin_default.jpg vani_default.jpg va-os_default.jpg varden_default.jpg z-bor_default.jpg




You know the Boardwalk, right? Wood and ancient stone, inhabited by every type of crafter you can imagine, selling food, drink, and every kind of goods from animals to manuscripts to housewares to clothing to food to odd little things that look nice but have no particular use, and surrounded by a lovely beach where a bonfire pit is often the hub of celebrations? Well today, there are more crafters and more wares than even on a normal day, because this is a Gather. BUT.
Stiff breezes are blowing onshore from the now normal-coloured sea. No more red algae, and no more dead fish - but the breakdown of all that organic matter has produced seafoam in huge quantities. A windy night has spread a layer of stiff greyish-white foam several inches thick over absolutely everything - paths, stalls (a good job most are closed up at night), the surrounding shoreline - just everything. Where the wind has gathered it together, there are huge drifts, at least waist-deep, and these cover most of the beach. The stallholders have started to clean their immediate areas, but you might want to lend a hand - or maybe see what amusement several feet of bubbles have to offer!

It's just after breakfast on a fine day, and a restday at that, as befits a Gather. It's sunny but breezy, with the remains of the night's stiff winds still blowing. R'zel has wandered down to the Boardwalk, to see what's afoot, and what's afoot is - seafoam! Everywhere! It's inches thick on the Boardwalk itself, and even deeper on the surrounding beach. A bubble bath has nothing on this! Some of the crafters and traders have managed to clear the foam from their stands and set out their goods; others are still engaged in cleanup operation. R'zel is just standing gawping at the scarcely believable sight."

So much for a nice swim: Ibrahim doesn't want to be bathed in the aftermath of the red scourge so recently visited upon them. His dark gaze sweeps the shore, disgust curling his lip as he just takes it all in. Oh, those poor crafters, to have to deal with this, this early: and a Gather Day to prepare for on top of it all! Slowly, he turns to be sure he's got it all comitted to memory before he spots R'zel, his disgust turning to amusement at the man's shocked face. "It's rather… a lot, is it not?" The question is put to the other man in a softly amused way. "Disastrously pretty, one might say."

"It's…" R'zel is momentarily speechless. "I've never seen anything like it in my life. It's like a bath with too much soapsand, multiplied a million times. What on Pern could cause something like this?" He turns his gaze along the row of stalls nearby. "There's going to be a huge cleanup job. I wonder…." His eyes lose focus for a few moments. "Verokanth's seeing if any Ocelots are up and about. It'd be good to get the path clear, at least."

"Mhm." Ibrahim agrees blandly; too blandly. Thick brows arch, oh-so-innocently. "Maybe our so-lovely visit by all that algae?" He suggests, mildly. Those long fuzzy rope-braids of his are given a smoothing by hand, as though it's a long-standing habit of his, careworn over long Turns. As to the cleanup, he'll give the barest hint of a shudder, needing to clear the crawling sensation from his skin. He wants no parts of wading through the stuff — bad enough he has to see it, looking like an eruption of some great mischief by children.

R'zel frowns. "Algae? Is that what the red stuff is?" He seems unfamiliar with the term. "But it's gone. You think it went into…" He waves a hand towards the foamy vista. "That? Because if so, is it dangerous? I can see the weyr children wanting to romp around in it." Tilting his head, he considers Ibrahim. "The fisherfolk who first told us about it said they hadn't seen a red tide for decades, and it wasn't here when they did. But they were northerners, originally - you're from this continent, aren't you? Has it happened before on this continent, that anyone remembers?"

"Yeah. The old ones, they speak of it." Ibrahim muses, rubbing at his chin as he again contemplates the foam, then wrinkles his nose as R'zel mentions the children playing in the stuff. They would, the little… he diverts the thought, choosing instead to concentrate on R'zel. "They are stories, mind. Passed down by word of mouth through the generations. Words can be forgotten, misplaced, reinterpreted to mean other things, you understand." Thus, the qualifier, lest R'zel take these things completely to heart as fact. Ibrahim is never sure whether the elders can be completely taken for honest. "They say it happens every time. They say — " A significant pause, amused and wry. " — it poses no threat." His shoulders lift, drop, dismissive and deprecating. Who knows, man. Who knows. "I wouldn't worry overmuch about it. It comes, it goes, and still, the Continent survives."

R'zel considers, eyes the metre-high piles of the stuff on the beach, considers some more, then grins. "Well, then, it looks rather fun. You know, if you're not trying to actually work in the stuff." His voice holds a note of sympathy for the crafters. "The-" He's interrupted by cries of delight from the beach as a little group of children run into a deep drift of the stuff and start tossing it about. The broken-off clumps of bubbles are caught by the wind and blow away.

Ugh. UGH. Ibrahim shivers again, wigged out juuuuust a little bit by the ghastly little gaggle mixes it up with the foam like a bunch of small conquerers. "Faranth…" The wildling swears softly, rubbing a hand over his face. "That's disgusting. What do you bet they smell like rotten fish all day, now?" Wait, does the foam even have a smell, or is Ibrahim projecting the memory of the algae onto this harmless bit of childish fun? Is he also cringing at the thought of bug bits mixed all up in it like some kind of fun soup?

R'zel must be asking himself at least one of the same questions. He leans down and scoops up a palmful of the stuff. It's white, verging on grey, and doesn't look particularly bug-infested. He raises it closer to his face and sniffs. "It's just vaguely sea-ish," he concludes. "Like anything else on a beach, but maybe a bit stronger. No worse than seaweed. I suppose the red stuff is seaweed, sort of. Just, a different one." He shakes his hand to dislodge the foam, but the remnants cling. "Oh well. They can always have a bath afterwards. I doubt it's anything that soapsand and hot water won't cure." Then he recalls something, and qualifies that. "Well, hot water, anyway. Not the best time to run out of soap!"

Oh, indeed. The very idea of running out of soap has Ibrahim glaring at R'zel rather fiercely. He's gotten rather spoiled, much preferring the squeaky clean feeling of soapsand to the skin on a regular basis — a far cry from the days when such things were scant indeed. "Don't even think that in my vicinity!" He'll try his damndest to look ferociously intimidating, though he's really quite a small lad for all his wiry strength. Is R'zel sufficiently frightened off the notion?

"I expect they'll get more soon. It's all that cleaning they've been doing." R'zel's tone is pacifying, his reference to the soap shortage not intended to alarm, but he's not inclined to be intimidated. "And, really, I'd rather they did clean up after all those dead bugs." Southern summer heat, rotting bug-corpses trampled into the cool corridors… yeah. "At least we'll be able to swim again!" With the red tide gone, it'll soon be safe to go back in the water. "Except, maybe we need to wait for this to go."

It really would be ridiculous to be intimidated by a man so much smaller, anyway. Especially one not known for violent fits of temper. After a moment, Ibrahim's scowl does ease; there's reassurance in knowing that there will be more soapsand to come. He really loves being clean, this wildling! And then there's his sunny smile for the advent of swimming. "I've missed it…" That's admitted on a long, breathy sigh. The foam is met with another disapproving stare. Why you be harshin' mah mellow, man.

Varden arrives, heralded by the hollow clatter of shoes against the aged wood of the boardwalk.
R'zel nods, understanding. "We're lucky; we've just been able to go somewhere else to bathe. Verokanth's getting pronounced views on the best sorts of beach for swimming and sunning and getting clean. He liked meeting some different dolphins, too. But I think I'll be glad to be able to go back to the usual place; there's plenty of room for dragons." Which, when an entire firestone-scented wing descends, or several such wings, isn't a bad thing.

News of the boardwalk's present state has, apparently, travelled. While Varden might not have ad much inclination to go to the Gather normally, the rumours of the foam invasion is too intriguing to miss. The Weyrhealer has seen the foam from a distance as he descended from the Weyr entrance, but as he arrives at the boardwalk proper, the full extent becomes apparent and the man pauses, considering it with a faintly amused expression, eyebrows slightly lifted.

Did someone say foam???? Did someone say BUBBLES??? Of course they did! And wherever one can find foam or bubbles, they can find Ozriath. Southern's very own bubbly green comes winging in from the skies, the rainbow bubbles of her scape rushing ahead on a pathh of yellow brick to crest over emeral horizons and greet any dragons about. «LOOK AT ALL THE BUBBLES!!!» She trumpets her arrival to those who cannot hear her scape and lands down the beach with a solid thud into a crest of sea foam that splatters everywhere. The bubbles of Ozriath's mindscape burts with childlike laughter as the green plays about in sea foam, pouncing upon it and running through it to send even more spraying about while Z'bor just hangs on for dear life because there is NO holding Oz back from something like this. The green is a virtual child in spirit. She might even send a big old glop of foam right towards that group of playing kids. HERE KIDS HAVE SOME FOAM!

Ibrahim has been somehow transfixed by all the bubbles, and all the children and all the sudden possibilities that have occured to him — and none of them attached to any particular feelings of disgust. Instead, there's likely a dawning sense of the fun one might have with bubbles if one were to take a page from the children's book laid out before them. Maaaybe that foam isn't so bad after all? And then there are more people and more dragons about, and he recalls himself to the here and now, feeling his feet on the ground, the breeze caressing his face - "Huh. I suppose he'd have to…" is his dubious commentary to R'zel, though that one's probably forgotten what he told Ibrahim by now. Woolgathering: it's what's for dinner, y'all.

Varden's eyes flick upwards as Ozriath soars in and heads straight for the foam. Now there's a dragon also splashing around in the stuff. good good. He starts to make his way towards a R'zel and Ibrahim, though Varden keeps half an eye on Ozriath and her splashing - he'd quite like not to be soaked with whatever that stuff is made of, thank you. "Seems some are enjoying this more than the stallholders," the man will comment, dryly, as he approaches the men.

Does R'zel see Orziath or is he warned by Verokanth. Either way, he turns to watch the green as she lands and starts to play. R'zel's soon laughing at her antics. "That's Orziath. And Z'bor. It looks like she's keen on bubbles." Verokanth reaches tendrils of warm klah-fragranced amusement to the green. « You might consider letting your rider dismount. » When Varden arrives he greets him. "Morning, Weyrhealer." But there are a trio of other dragons landing now, and R'zel recognises them, too. "And those are some of my wing, and it looks like they've brought tools. I'd better go and give a hand. See you both later, perhaps." He heads onto the beach, not resisting the temptation to run his hand through a drift of foam on the way to greet the Ocelot riders and relieve one of them of a spare shovel. They concentrate on making the paths safe for a while, which at least means that some customers may reach the further stalls without slipping.

«Nonsense! He needs bubbles too!» Ozriath responds, however, she does actually let Z'bor dismount a moment later, the foam covered WingSecond approaching with a smile on his face and laughter on his lips as Ozriath goes back to playing in the foam. The green sprays the Children again before hunkering down in a crest of it and blowing air through her snout to make the foam fly. Someone definitely knows how to play. Z'bor waves a greeting to those gathered, whether he knows them or not and begins wiping the foam from his svelte figure.

"And they — " Meaning the frolicking children. " — are enjoying this most of all." Ibrahim sighs, rubbing absently at an elbow as he frowns thoughtfully in the direction of the frolicking… dragon? Now there is an unusal sight! R'zel's departure is met with an idle wave, his gaze still sweping the beach. And then there's Z'bor, making his way over to join the little huddle congregating on the beach.

Varden gives R'zel a respectful nod as the Wingsecond makes his way off to assist his Wing - only to be replaced with another Wingsecond. Ah, such is life in a Weyr. "Hm," Varden makes a noise as he watches the children playing. no doubt there are thoughts of them inhaling the stuff. "I assume we don't know what it's made of?" Z'bor is on the receiving end up a genial nod now, as the rider hails them.

Z'bor , being Istan born, is no stranger to sea foam or the sight of it on the beach, and neither is Ozriath, who as anyone can see, loves the stuff. The greenriding Wingsecond happens to catch the comment Varden makes and it has him smiling and shaking his head as he closes the last few steps between he and the group. "I couldn't tell ya what it's made of, but it isn't going to hurt anybody. It's just sea foam." And, growing up on a ship, a man sees plenty of it. Z'bor slicks his now soaked hair back with his hands, revealing the three or four(?) jagged scars that marr his forehead and part of his scalp. "You'll want a bath after being in it though."

Ibrahim heaves a shrug. "Among the elders of my little clan of wildlings… it's from that red crap we just had. As passed down by our historians." Whether that's actually true, or not, Ibrahim hasn't the foggiest notion, really. Things can distorted over time when one cannot write or read. "The one thing they seem to agree on, however — " And there's a roll of the eye for all the many conflicts broiling about the various groups. They're positively exhausting. " — is that it isn't harmful." He's still doubtful, though; one never knows, really. And there, Z'bor's agreed with the wildling assessment.

On a beautiful day like today, Tommin is out like a spring chicken. Well, in that he's outside and turning his face to the brilliant sun, wandering through the crowd of gatherees. He's just walking and enjoying the crowd, arms loosely by his side, pausing briefly as he spots Varden amid a crowd. It'd be awkward and obvious to turn and head the other way so he just keeps approaching that group like he totally didn't notice the Weyrhealer…
Varden's lips press together firmly, but then his face relaxes. he's still watching the kids and their new green buddy, but with evidence supporting the foam being harmless, and no scientific evidence to hand…he'll just have to be happy with things for now. And hello, is that one of his apprentices? Tommin does appear to be heading their way, but Varden isn't going for a greeting right now. "With any luck, it's the end of the problems with the beaches."

Ibrahim turns his gaze away from the beach and the vision of a dragon in cahoots with children to make and even bigger mess of the beach, and shakes his head with a soft sigh. His eye eventually falls on Tommin, making his way up the beach — a person he hasn't seen about in awhile, and a grin drift briefly over his face. D'aww, the kid's around, still! "One hopes, Weyrhealer. One hopes."

Z'bor nods in firm agreement. "Aye, not having fish and access to the beaches was a real bitch." Z'bor shoves his hands in his pockets and looks to the beach where apparently, Ozriath has become a foam slide. Not that the green minds one iota, she loves children of all shapes, sizes and species. She blows foam at them with a happy rumble and Z'bor looks back to the group he's entangled with chuckling. "I'm betting there's more than a few parents who're happy to have their kids out from underfoot and able to go play." Speaking of….Z'bor mentally kicks himself in the arse. He should have brought the kids down….oh well, he and H'ris can do that later.

It's like this awkward dance suddenly as Tommin gets nearer and suddenly a herd of kids has him trying to evade stepping on them, losing his balance a little and he knocks gently into the group. Annoyance on his face fades into surprise and then looking up, Tommin's flushed with embarrassment. "Um. Sorry." Up into Varden's face, "Hi, Weyrhealer. Lovely day, right?"

Varden has been subtly watching Tommin as he approaches, perhaps wondering if the apprentice is going to be distracted by the foam. But no, he doesn't disappear into the bubbly stuff - quite the opposite. Fortunately, Varden is sturdy and Tommin is a slim thing, and the Weyrhealer barely shifts when he gets bumped into. "Tommin. yes, it is. Have you come for the Gather, or the foam?" He's cordial enough, and there's no use of the younger mans title. they're not at work, after all.

Z'bor is part of the knocking too and looks over to see Tommin, who he's never met before, he thinks. "No worries." Is given to the lad as Z'bor lifts his hands to support his words. "I think I might take art in some of the gather activities. A mug of ale sounds good right about now." He looks 'round at those gathered. "Anyone else?"

Va'os arrives, heralded by the hollow clatter of shoes against the aged wood of the boardwalk.
Tommin gives Ibrahim a little wave and then looks up at Z'bor and pauses. "Ahhh… The foam." Wait, what? Flushing again, Tommin shakes his head at Varden, "No sir, just here to see what there is to be seen. Most of this is… I don't need much." The mention of ale has him looking back up to Z'bor and he looks intrigued.

The busy crowds filling up the boardwalk for the gather day are almost like a wave themselves. Elonoora at least has a bit more luck in swimming through the herd of children than the other apprentice had. You swim with the current, not against them. Although it's kind of hard to swim against the current of people when you're holding a basket of fresh, hot bubbly pies above your head and some of the braver children are trying to jump up to grab one. "No, Lehen. You've already had three" And little Lehan's face and hands and the most of him that is blue and slightly crumbly can attest to that.

Z'bor excuses himself, giving Tommin a raised brow. The lad had seemed interested in the ale. "To ale then!" He calls and makes for the first vendor that sells it. Normally Z'bor is a whiskey man. But ale seems appropriate for a gather day. Ozriath continues to be a children's slide into the foam, though her bubble covered head lifts when she senses an endeared presence nearby. Who could it be?

Oh, but the beach is getting so crowded! Ibrahim begins to get just a little bit uneasy amongst the teeming masses; sure, and he knows it's a Gather, that's what happens — however, he's largely unused to mingling amongst so many at once! He'll find himself somewhere quiet to continue to observe the group, picking out details here and there, and enjoying the pleasantness of it all. For once, there's no sense of urgency, no looming doom about to beat down upon their heads; and most happily, no more of those rather noxious, gross bugs flying about.

It's a gather day on the boardwalk in Southern and the weather is fair. The beach vendors are busy and folk meander about sampling food and ale and making gather day purchases. The beach is quite covered in sea foam, a sight that has many gawking while hoardes of children run through the stuff having a real heyday. A green dragon , Z'bor's Ozriath, sits in one of the larger sets of foam, covered in it and blowing it at the children as they use her as a slide. Z'bor and Tommin head for beer while Ibrahim and Varden converse on the beach (in the background as they are afk). Elenoora has arrived with bubbles and children and a light breeze wafts through. It's festive day, free for all to enjoy.

« Wooooohooooo! » Anyone with any sensitivity at all is going to pick up on the fact that some dragon nearby is excited about something, whether they hear Obhaeroth's exclamation or just get a sudden mental impression of a bright, exuberant swirl of golden light and glittering dust motes. Need some seafoam cleared fast? Obhaeroth will take care of a TON of it before it reaches the stalls, folks! A gigantic blur of brown dash-flaps zealously past in the shallows, great copper-laced wings spread wide to catch the billowing foam while he sends up a spray in his wake. « This is so FUN! Hey Ozriath! Come try this! » And he just keeps running until his wings can't hold anymore and he takes off to come back around for another go. Meanwhile, Rielle just wanders on up to the boardwalk as though her lifemate isn't cavorting like a dragonet in the background, looking far less the rider and more like a woman here to soak up the sun and festivities in a rather elegant sundress colored a sunlight gold. With copper accents of course. She has to mark herself as Obhaeroth's somehow.

Word travels fast and with some pressing matters attended to, Va'os can finally 'escape' to check out this sea-foam himself. Tsiroth has likely beaten him to the party, the bronze already selecting a soundtrack of classic rock music to really set the mood (at least in his head). « Woah, now that's awesome! » the bronze crows in Obhaeroth's direction, though he doesn't immediately join in on the cavorting. He does lower his head to sniff at some of that foam, only to end up getting it up his nose and promptly sneezing. Gah! Likewise, Va'os is dressed in cooler clothing to ward off the worst of the summer humidity and while he hums some off-key tune under his breath, he'll saunter right past Elonoora and snare one of those bubblies right from the tray. Sorry kids! These are the perks of being tall. And… okay, maybe somewhat a jerk move. "So this is what's kicking up all the fuss, this time? Looks fun." Finally!

Oh, wait, is there another dragon entering the fray? But of COURSE there is! Jaigairanth, too, decides she's going to be of help, even though the green is rarely seen consorting with the unwashed masses. Playing in foam, however, has never been done by her, so she'll give it a go, spreading her green wings and dive-bombing the mess, shoving ot out to sea with wide sweeps, pushing, pushing, pushing. Go, Team Southern, GO! Wage war, win the Battle of the Foam!

"Hey!" Elonoora might have been too busy focusing on the threat to the pies in front of her to notice that someone was coming up from behind, but she does notice when the basket is suddenly just a little bit light and turns around to confront the bubbly-thief only to find the culprit is the Weyrleader. She goes from looking like she's about to scold yet another child to being completely wordless in about 0.2 seconds. But wordless Elonoora doesn't last for long, instead, she's just gives a resigned sigh. "If I give all the pies out now, it'll help with crowd control at the baker's tables, right?" So she's just being proactive and it means less walking for her.

Tommin is free to do as he wishes when it comes to alcohol, without fear of Varden watching him - the Weyrhealer has become distracted by a friend, and has headed off in the other man's direction to have a chat. Enjoy the ale~

Z'bor finds himself standing in line for an ale, which he doesn't mind one bit. It gives him a chance to people watch and eye the antics of his patchwork green and her brown cohort. Eyes look around for Rielle as the thought that Obhaeroth is here registers. Ozriath greets Rielle's coppery brown with a rush of happy rainbow bubbles of her own, all those flashing things moving down the yellow brick path of her scape to wrap around the cavorting canine of Obhaeroth's all racing for that emerald horizon ahead. «This is fun, but I cannot try, I am covered in weyrbrats!» And it's not a complaint. Ozriath does not mind being a jungle gym, not one bit. In fact she craves and loves this sort of attention. All the weyr babies are her babies.

Tommin's totally down with watching Z'bor as they go for ale - except he gets his sleeve caught by another Journeyman Healer and SIGH, it's back to the grind - don't drink the foam - and Tommin mutters an apologetic farewell to Z'bor as he's tugged away.

Amani may not exactly be prone to taking advantage of a bright, sunny day on the beach very often, but after the red tide keeping everyone away from it for so long, she has missed it. Besides, she really needs the atmosphere of a Gather right now. Zingari garb seemed quite appropriate today, to her, and so she makes her appearance in a light, almost gauzy skirt of lavender fabric, an indigo and gold brocade sash dotted with tiny shimmering bells overlaying that but leaving her midriff bare. The lavender fabric makes a return in her top, the neckline low but not plunging between cap sleeves. There's some simple gold jewelry in the form of a braided necklace and pendant earrings, and a bit of kohl darkens her eyes. All in all…she feels rather well suited to the atmosphere she walks into, a deep breath taken and released as she steps out onto the boardwalk. Definitely something she's needed! Meanwhile, Zymuraith wanders out into the foamy surf, quietly quizzical about the nature of the stuff that's washing up onto the sand.

Va'os flashes a quick wink to Elonoora, along with a broad grin that shows little shame in the pilfering of the baked good. Which he promptly takes a bite out of and has to delay any further verbal response, save for a few guttural sounding comments on the taste. It's GOOD, okay? And he's not usually partial to sweetness! "How could I resist?" he teases the poor Baker, once he can talk without being rude about it. Her suggestion is met with a shrug of his shoulders. "Give 'em all an early sample and they're bound to drift by for more? Just tell 'em where to go for seconds!" Yeah, that'd work, right? No? Well, that's why he's not a Baker.

Off to one side, there's Ibrahim, dressed as simply as always in his usual loose white trousers and no shirt, his long hair left loose. His lizards circle lazily overhead, joining the dragons in their games with foam. Eventually, Ibrahim looks up, and takes notice of something lavender and indigo — wait, who's that? She looks lovely, walking down the beach in her Zingari garb. His smile is slow in coming, but it's genuine, now: he hasn't had much opportunity to see Amani in that kind of clothing, and the sight is worth being out and about, even in such a crush. But he doesn't approach her, not yet, turning his eyes back to the people watching he's become quite adept at.

Since Elonoora now has the Weyrleader's blessing for the whole plan to pass out the pies early, she's going to complete give up any pretense of trying to make it all the way to the baker's stand. She gives the bronzerider a smile and a courtsey before she turns and takes off into the crowd. That might not be exactly how it works considering these pies were supposed to be going in to replace all the pies they already sold, but getting them there was such a challenge. It's time for her to practice her barking. "Pies! Fresh, hot, bubbly pies here!" And off she goes…

Rielle is going to snag one of those bubblies on her way to Va'os, though she'll pay for it. She's not tall enough to discreetly snag one from a basket held overhead, if that is indeed what's still going on. "Causing trouble, my dear Weyrleader?" she questions teasingly once she's up beside Va'os, and takes a bite of her own pie…which proves promptly distracting. "Though for one of these, I wouldn't blame you…" Apparently this one's uncommonly good, and she enjoys a good bubbly.

R'zel is back, and his little crew of Ocelots is scattering after clearing the foam from around a bunch of stalls. They shovelled most of it onto the beach, and a bit of it at each other, because hoying foam around with shovels is fun. So R'zel's got some interesting foamy adornments on his clothing, which he's wiping off one-handed. He's apparently unaware of the large lump of foam on top of his head. His non-wiping hand is occupied by a hot pie that one of the stallholders gave him for his trouble. He spots Z'bor and makes his way over. "Your girl's havng the time of her life, by the look of it. How's the beer?"

Speaking of hoying foam…that coppery brown streak is back in the background. Obhaeroth whizzes by again, catching more foam in his wings and sending it gleefully on down the strand, past the boardwalk…and nearly out of sight before he has too much to handle again.

"What? By having a sample of the food? That's not causing trouble," Va'os counters to Rielle, though he doesn't go as far as to point out she did the same! There's a laugh when the Wingleader ends up with the same reaction as he did and with a smug grin, finishes off the last of the pastry he stole from Elonoora with relish. "Right? I'm going to hold off on eating too much just yet." Because? He points towards the sea-foamed beach. "Going to go check THAT stuff out!" Up close and personal! Yes, folks, the Weyrleader is going to be a child and go play— err, study this phenomenon! Yeah, that's right. "Study" it. With a wicked grin to Rielle and a mock salute, he's off and at least partially stripping down before wading into that foam. Occasionally, his comments will drift by the boardwalk but hey… even he can have a bit of fun, right?

Someone mentioned foam so A'hali has come to abscond with Vani and bring her here. HE is in a nice bathing suit on (guys, there's a lot of hair on display) and a towel over his shoulder. On his arm, Vani, who can decide if she wants to have a bathing suit on or not. (please let it be skimpy and pretty.) "… see it all over you."

Z'bor is just getting his ale when R'zel approaches. Z'bor can't help but smirk at the foam the man has to wipe off and laughs at his comment. "That she is. Yu couldn't keep Oz from seas foam if her life depended on it." Well…. one could, but that's neither here nor there. "Haven't had a chance to taste it yet, I'll let you know." And with that, he raises his mug and has a drink. The ale is full and flavorful and he says as much, moving out of the way in case R'zel would like a pint.

To be fair, A'hali provided his usual one word query/explanation, this time it was: beach. And given that until this moment she was diligently discharging her wingsecondly duties, she is appropriately attired in a something skimpy and beach worthy. But, as they approach it becomes more than apparent that things are not as expected. "Foam?" Bemused by the unexpected fluff she isn't quite paying as close… NO WAIT. "Is it safe?" Translation: IS it gross? Because that will have a lot to do with what he is discussing~

Eventually, though, Ibrahim seems to recover some of his aplomb — nobody's going to harass him here, right? — and skirts the edges of the place to find a couple crisp, refreshing drinks. Once those are secured, he gently wends his way through the crowd until he reaches Amani's side, quietly offering her one with a warm smile. "And now that you have sufficiently stolen my very breath, Weyrwoman, might I offer you a drink?" His gaze is admiring; very admiring. He might as well hang out close by in public, right? Who in the Weyr doesn't already know anyway… neither of them has made any secret of their interest in each other.

"I think I'm about ready for one," R'zel says, and takes a minute to make the transaction and secure his drink. "Not that shovelling foam is the hardest work I've ever done." There's amusement still playing round his lips. "But I've still worked up a thirst." He raises his mug to the other wingsecond. "Cheers! I'm glad this happened on our restday - it'd be tedious to miss a sight like that." 'That' is the sight of foam-covered dragons, of course.

A'hali lifts up a hand to point towards at R'zel and the dragons. "Not hurting them." And so A'hali is just going to steer Vani right towards it and reach down to scoop up a handful and dump it right on Vani's head. The quiet brownrider has a playful side and it's showing itself in this moment of less-responsibility.

Amani can't help but pause to watch the draconic antics on the beach…and she might just be egging her lifemate on to go join, because Zymuraith is looking intrigued and indignant by turns. Soon the junior Weyrwoman just laughs and turns back to the boardwalk. Eventually she spies Ibrahim and tries to catch his eye to give him a grin and a wave…though with the press of people, it'll be something if she manages it. She makes her way to the stalls for a drink…and then suddenly Ibrahim is there, giving her just enough of a start to leave her with a breathless chuckle. "I think you read my mind," she says, a slight blush coloring her cheeks for his words as she accepts the drink. "You must be happy to have this all cleared up. The red part at least." The foam, in the meantime, doesn't seem so problematic.

They've certainly caught the attention of the mystery writer… lalala

Z'bor laughs and raises his mug to R'zel's. "Aye, it's a sad day when you have to miss a gather for sweeps." As for foam covered dragons well, Z'bor about dies laughing when he looks over to see a child free OZriath streaking through the foam to tackle an Obhaeroth in true puppy dog fashion.

Vani squeaks! Not as loudly as she would have if the large brownrider had picked her up and chucked her in, but loudly enough to momentarily soar above the murmur of the crowd. "Euw! A'hali" The whine is a bit quieter even as she reaches up to remove the ick from her hair. But as always, all is not what it seems with the greenrider and she opens her arms for a hug. Ignore the foam filled hands, they are not important. "Give me a hug, then get me some drink?" She asks pitieously.

Aww, Vani's face is too cute. So A'hali falls for it hook, line, sinker! Reaching around Vani he'll give her a big bearhug. BUT MAYBE HE IS NOT AS GULLIBLE AS HE SEEMS as he bodily picks her up and swings her over the foam. "Maybe good for your skin." A little wigggggle over the foam. DOES SHE WANT TO GO IN?!

« Aaaaaaaaa- oof! Hey! » Obhaeroth squeals a little as he's interrupted mid-dash by an incoming Ozriath. Not that he minds getting tackled by a pretty green, of course - especially this pretty green. Now he's just gonna bury her in all the foam he'd had scooped up in his wings! Rielle, not being in a position to follow Va'os out into the foam because, well, there's no bathing suit conveniently concealed beneath her sundress today, takes her leave from her roguish Weyrleader with a laugh and makes her way over to get a drink of her own, passing close to Z'bor and and R'zel in the process. "Wingseconds," she greets the two men genially as she leans against the stall. "At least this little inconvenience is generally a fun one, aye?" For humans and dragons alike. So sorry to the merchants, though.

Vani didn't think this through at all. Even as she is picked up she slathers the foam over Hal's shaved head, with a little chuckle for the semblence of hair that it gives him. It looks weird. And then she is being dangled over the foam. She does not want to go in! "I'm still thirsty." She informs him with quiet sadness, complete with pout. "Maybe later." Is it a promise or is it a threat? Thats part of the fun.

Verokanth's not normally a tremendously playful dragon, but right now he's in the sea, surfacing under floating foam-bergs or getting his huge nose behind them and blowing them about. At a bugle of excitement from the bronze, R'zel turns seawards and seeks him out, just as Verokanth decides to head for land and join the fun there. But then Rielle arrives. "Isn't it! We were just saying that it picked a good day for it, too. Here's hoping Thread doesn't have any surprises in store for us today. Vero can't have had so much fun since he was a weyrling."

Know what Hal should do? He should save his head and see what Vani thinks of THAT. There's another wiggle before Hal swings Vani's feet back onto the sand instead of into the foam. "You promise later?" Quietly said with an intense look at the greenrider. Stepping aside he holds out a hand. "Start with some juice. Maybe a clear alcohol?" Something to get her drunk quicker and back to the foam?

"I'm learning." Ibrahim laughs, reminiscing over the times when he used to give her a start all the time. Oh, the old days! He turns to watch Zyrumaith with an affectionate sort of smile. "What's she make of this? Does she not approve?" You know, draconic dignity and all that must be preserved, mustn't it? He hands over the citrusty yellow drink, taking a sip of his own. "This stuff's the best. Rather crisp."

If he's going to look at her like that… "Promise." She returns with a similiarly significant stare, giving his shoulders a triple squeeze before sliding her way back down to solid, if sandy ground. "That sounds perfect." She agrees, slipping away from him slowly. "I'll be over there." She gestures further down. "Way over there." There is a slight frown as she takes in the crowd, waving at those she knows before she starts looking for somewhere a little less populated.

There's no way that Hal is going to leave Vani for very long. There's a bit of tunnel vision going on - so sorry for everyone that might try to speak with him. Juice, Pern Vodka, it's happening before A'hali follows Vani OFF.

"Of course she approves," Amani replies, looking a bit surprised and then remembering why it might not be clear to anyone other than herself. "In her mind, it's…" She taps her temple lightly as she glances from Zymuraith to Ibrahim. "There's festivity there, always, but only in the night. Only in the odd and fantastic, and there's an order to it. Everything working together in carefully balanced harmony. She looks for that in the world around her, in the Weyr. So the red tide, the insects, all of it threw off the balance to her. Now it's back. Though…she's still deciding about the foam." And the queen's dignity does not, apparently, restrict her from rearing up and flapping at it with great iridescent wings just to see what will happen.

Z'bor chuckles. "Aye, aye it is a good day for it. How's it going Rielle?" Z'bor takes another pull of his ale and nearly laughs again when Ozriath gets buried in foam. Oz is in heaven. Yup. She'll just stay here. The patchwork green sinks in the water until she looks like a Terran croc slipping through, only her headknobs and wings visible above the foam, and just barely at that. «I'll get you again, you'll see!» Z'bor looks over at R'zel and chuckles. "I don't think Oz has had this much fun in awhile either."

« I'll get you again… Hey, Zymuraith! That's the way! » Obhaeroth approves of any playing in the foam from any quarter, and what the young queen is doing fits the bill enough for him! Rielle grins in part for R'zel's words and for Obhaeroth's happiness. "Let's not even speak of that," she says of Thread with a chuckle, and accepts her ordered drink with a nod of thanks to go with her payment before joining the Wingseconds in earnest. "Goes well, since we can finally be out here again." She's missed the beach. Looking back to Z'bor, she notes, "We ought to bring Zariel out here before things get rowdy for the evening. And Riski."

Verokanth emerges from the water coated with blobs of foam. "Oh, great, my dragon's got spots," R'zel laughs, apparently still unaware of his own blob of foam. A bit of it has dropped off, and the rest has been teased by the wind into a spike. Pern doesn't actually have unicorns, but…. Verokanth changes direction and tries to sneak up on Ozriath, insofar as almost seventy feet of wading dragon can sneak.

Ibrahim laughs softly. "Well, good. She and I agree that this balance is overdue." He looks again to the gold, flapping her wings and joining in on the battle to clear the beach. "They'll have it cleared in no time at this rate." And then, gallantly, he offers Amani his arm. "My lady, may I escort you to the booths? See if there's anything that catches your fancy?" He'll even offer her a little bow.

Z'bor noda at Rielle's suggestion. "I was thinking the same thing a little while ago actually. See if I can't get H'ris out of the weyr too." Though that may or may not happen. His weyrmate can be quite reclusive at times. Another sip of beer, and another laugh as Ozriath goes zooming through the water to avoid capture or sneaking! Obhaeroth will be a targe for foam soon…not yet, but soon!

"They just might," Amani says of the dragons, finally taking a sip from the drink Ibrahim gave her, an approving smile curving her lips. She takes Ibrahim's arm with a nod, her smile turning to a grin at his bow. "I wouldn't mind the walk." Trinket-browsing or no. And so she'll wander off with the wildling man, content to focus on little else but the current company and the glorious day…while Zymuraith eventually takes up watch over it all, satisfied with her brief perusal of the foam enough to decide that it doesn't upset any balances. If anything, it makes the day better, and she's all for those she watches being happy.

"Well, if you want help with that, let me know. You take one ear, I'll take the other," Rielle says of H'ris with a joking grin. "Mm, I think I need to go find some food to go with this. See you gentlemen around!" With that, Rielle slips off into the crowd, too, fully intending to come back around later. Obhaeroth will just be out in the water, chasing certain sneaky greens alongside Verokanth…and sticking his nose in scudding foam-bergs, then romping along the strand to scoop up some more of the stuff, all until he falls asleep, probably.

Verokanth really isn't doing too well at the sneaking. Besides, a green can move so much faster! He lumbers on shore and amuses himself by flicking chunks of foam from the tips of his tail. R'zel takes a good pull at his beer, then grins at Z'bor. "Maybe we can finally get that contest started now we're not pulling extra sweeps to chase red goo. But let's not talk shop today - it's a gather,and I want to have a wander round some of these stalls. Clear skies!" They wander off on their separate ways.

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