El'ai, G'deon


What starts out as pleasant small talk turn into something with a bite to it.


It is noon of the nineteenth day of the second month of the second turn of the 12th pass.


Cove, Southern Weyr

OOC Date


el-ai_default.jpg Gid10.jpg



A saber's curl along the coast of the Azov Sea, the cove is a clash of green and black; where deeply forested jungles encroach upon the curving expanse of this tiny cove, found only past the rocky barrier that serves as demarcation between cove and beach. Lacking the softly ground sand of the beach, the cove is made up of dark, volcanic pebbles, making it trickier to navigate than the beach itself. Yet, what a surprise is given if one braves the less comfortable path that curves around a long-forgotten cinder cone to find the quiet tranquility of seclusion. Brilliant against the black pebbled beach, greenery is only enhanced by the purest of turquoise waters, warmed by a deep volcanic vent and churned by hidden currents that further feeds into the relative calm of the sea itself. The rainbow fish and yellowfish is plentiful beneath the waves.

It is the forty-ninth day of Summer and 99 degrees. It is a beautiful, sunny day marred by the overwhelming humidity.

It's hot and it's humid and hot and humid make for a very uncomfortable day. El'ai's presence on the beach is probably not entirely sanctioned, but as there's no Yules hunting him down for sweeps or drills, it's safe to assume that he's at least squared away his duties for the day. It's five o'clock somewhere, thus the boy seems to be starting his early afternoon right: with a bloody mary in hand. Sprawled on the pebbled beach, he's got shorts on and a light shirt, halfway unbuttoned while he bitches about "dying from the heat." Presumably to his lifemate as he casts glances every so often to the waters that churn within the cove. "Ahhhhh. The life, here."

The Ocelot pair aren't the only ones who thought the cove might be a good idea today. Nylanth has been mostly submerged within the cove's waters, with only his head resting on the pebbled beach while the rest of his lanky frame extends into the gentle waves. A small gaggle of weyrbrats has been taking advantage of this by climbing on him, apparently sanctioned by both the bronze and his rider, who's clearly been swimming. In old-man fashion, G'deon is wearing a shirt while he swims, no longer all that immune to the sun's burning heat, but he is thoroughly soaked from head to toes. He wipes the newest splash off his face, then waves to the nanny on duty before making his way to dry land again. He eventually ends up near El'ai and stands squinting back toward the water with his hands resting on his hips. Nylanth? Just keeps half dozing, only moving or making a sound when one of the children gets too close to his wingsails. "Perfect day to be in the water, wouldn't you say?" Gid comments cheerfully.

G'deon's emergence as well as the children at play, draws El'ai's rather lazy attention and tugs a little smile to his lips. Which only grows as the older rider makes his way towards the boy. Man. El'ai's more man than boy, but some kiss of youth still lingers in the cheeky smile he gives his fellow bronzerider. Tipping his bloody mary towards G'deon, he laughs, "Yes it is. I intend to find my way to the water after I've finished this drink." The bright green of the celery (or Pern equivalent) is stark against the darker red of the vegetable juice that's got more than a hint of vodka in it. "I can't wait for summer to end, but then it's rain, rain, rain." Sometimes? It's awesome to just talk about the weather.

G'deon nods a few times in that casual way people do with small talk. "I don't mind the summers here so much," he replies, finally taking a seat on the beach. It takes some shifting to make the pebbles something of a more comfortable perch, but once his hip-wiggling is done, Gid leans back on his hands and crosses his feet at the ankles while watching the children turn his lifemate into a waterpark. Something Nylanth seems to be encouraging with teasing little splashes from his tail. "The rain, on the other hand…" He trails off, shaking his head. "My old body just doesn't seem to like the rain anymore. I may need to spend the bad days farther north this Turn, closer to the coast. There is only so much the Healers can do, otherwise."

"The north is beautiful with all those beaches and towering plateaus," that's what El'ai prompts with, turning a grin towards the older bronzerider. "Sip?" He's a boy that shares, this one! "I, truthfully, don't mind either season all that much. Each has their perks. The rain is kind of nice, even if it lasts well into winter." Small talk drifting to a pause, the boy considers the water. "Let's hope that we can go through autumn without drama, eh?"

"Have you had your fill of dead bodies already?" G'deon asks, his musing tone slightly humorous, but mostly dry. He shakes his head at the offer of a sip, though, adding, "I've never been much of one for mixed drinks, but thank you. My Inferno blood goes deep, I suppose." There's a tiny, crooked smile for that as his blue eyes tend to reflect that of the cove. They're still clear, at least. Age has not added its clouds yet. "I do love the plateaus. Something so serene about standing at the edge of one. It feels like opening a new book at its first chapter."

"The old bodies were fine, but the killing of live dragonriders?" El'ai shakes his head. "I don't want to be a target, not that I am. I have no rank, but if I had been at that flight?" The carefree shrug of a shoulder says a lot, "It could have been me." Luckily, however, his absence was noted right along with Bailey's. "I feel that way about some of the majestic peaks of the mountains. There's a lot this world's got to offer, beauty wise. Even the rising plateaus around the river are awe-inspiring." Slanting a look at Gid, he says around a healthy sip. "You visited the Ice Fields yet?"

G'deon has to agree with that, nodding once to El'ai as he shifts slightly. Pebbles are only comfortable for so long, after all. "Nylanth was rather peeved with me about forcing him to pull out, but with all things considered…" Rather than continue, he shrugs, squinting toward the water. "Ice Fields!" he continues a moment later, happy to be on the new subject as he grins at the other rider. "We flew past them but have not properly visited yet. What do you think of them?"

"I haven't been yet," El'ai admits, "Except to fetch a group of Candidates for an egg touching." He turns his eyes away, looking a little guilty but the expression fades into the heat of the afternoon sun. "I intend to go check them out here soon. I've just been," he quirks a fun-loving grin to G'deon, "lazy and otherwise occupied." No longer is he the sweetly innocent child; the boy's carrying some rough edges these days that seem to have something to do with too much alcohol and too much — well fun. "I've heard the glaciers are massive." Which plainly calls to the spirit of an adventurous male.

"That they are," G'deon agrees, though he sounds momentarily distracted as he watches his lifemate, who is slowly disengaging himself from the children. Rather than rising out of the water, though, he's pushed himself backwards, moving deeper. The last enterprising child has to finally let go and swim for shore as the dark bronze moves out into open water, then disappears beneath the surface. Now that there's no cause for concern, G'deon turns back to El'ai. "Are the candidates chipping ice?"

Vision turning away from the cove waters to watch the children and the bronzerider's dragon, El'ai remembers a very important lesson here. Sitting up, he shifts his drink from one hand to the other, "I'm El'ai, by the way. Don't think we've formally met." Because surely they've seen one another before. "Sekhaenkath's." The hand extended is given once G'deon's attention is back on him. "I think so, but I'm not entirely sure. I steer clear of Candidates unless I'm wanting to risk my hide, because I'm not so good at following the rules. especially rules with no booze in them."

"I know," G'deon replies to the other's introduction, his blue eyes twinkling as he shakes El'ai's hand. "Hard to miss Bailey's brother, yes?" How's the shade there, bro? And just to complete the ritual. "G'deon. Nylanth's." Who has just reemerged much closer to where cove meets ocean, where he revels in the change in temperature and undertow. For a moment, it seems Gid might comment on the other rider's last comment, but instead he shifts again, this time sitting more on one hip. Not in the uncomfortable way. Just the beach-going one. "I have to admit, candidates are far more interesting to me once they've impressed. Then we deal with a brand new future rather than just the hope for one."

"Yes," El'ai's blue-blue eyes drop. His resemblence to Eth'n uncanny, although not as much as the weathering of his own life's choices have added depth to what was once a little boy's face. "But I'm trying to stand apart from my sister." He grins and tips his drink back. "Yeah. Candidates before they Impress can be downright nasty." Coughing to cover the last, he shoots the man beside him a look. "I mean, just. Boring, I guess. They're all doing chores and learning the ropes of being a dragonrider, but some of them won't be. Anyway, the last time I wanted to dip my pen in Candidate ink, it didn't end well for me." With a toast to the sky, he adds, "I'm glad that awkward stage is done." Not that he should have been chasing after Candidates in the first place, but.

G'deon gives El'ai a careful frown for the "ink" comment, but again, he holds his peace. "I don't mind that part of it so much," he says instead, "but if I get to know them ahead of time, I start to care. The downfall of being a paternal figure, I suppose. Or grand-paternal, as I suppose I should say now," he adds with a quirk of a grin. "I finally learned there's often just nothing to do with those left standing. You can do as much damage offering a shoulder to cry on as you can trying to encouraging them to stand again. I'm simply too old for that." He turns back to the water, but a second later, he turns back to the rider. "And for the record, I never once dipped my pen with a candidate. I find that despicable, El'ai." So much for holding his peace.

That frown triggers a blush to creep up the bronzerider's neck and into his cheeks. "Not like that. I was… I — I think I hounded them with flowers or something equally embarrassing." He was young, although that's left unsaid in between the moments when he picks off and tries to assuage the censorship. "Anyway." Enough of that as he tries to get himself under control. That blush? Totally the bloody mary's fault. "Yeah. The getting — oh my Faranth not you… " El'ai is all sorts of chargrined and red and finding everything to look at besides the man sitting here. "I meant…" tiny little voice; something about G'deon makes him want to seek some recompense. "… me. I mean, some of those Candidates, I mean. Faranth. I had a little boy crush on some Candidates that stood for Southern's first. Not that you — would ever — I mean I've heard nothing but good things and I…" Hey, the beach can open up his world and swallow him now.

Luckily for El'ai, it's clear enough that G'deon's disapproval sunk in, so he's content to let it pass into silence. Besides, age may have added some padding to his back end, but there wasn't enough there to begin with, so he has to shift his position again, this time while darkly muttering about stupid rocks in all the wrong spots. "We need some sand here." Or better beach-going supplies. He glances toward the gaggle of weyrbrats being herded back to the Weyr proper, then he gestures toward the water. "Now it's a little quieter over there, I think I might escape the heat again. And all these sharding pebbles. What a stupid word for something so annoying." Grumpy grand-Gid.

Escape has definitely settled into the cards for El'ai. His drink is no longer interesting, and he feels every little bit of discomfort in his backside — or rather, the discomfort of sticking his foot in his mouth. "Oh you should. I, I think I'm going to go — get on with drills and stuff. So, um. Nice to meet you." Youth will slowly bleed out of the young man, but for right now, he feels about like a five-turn-old in the awkward aftermath of trying to be tough. "Clear skies." It's a farewell that's hasty enough that's accompanied by the way he beats feet down the beach. That's right. The boy's running, but he certainly will have learned from that little lesson taught.

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