Who

Naneska, Ryott

What

Just a quick meeting one evening in the galleries, Naneska and Ryott discuss dimples on eggs and stubborness.

When

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

Where

Galleries, Southern Weyr

OOC Date 04 Mar 2021 05:00

 

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"I don't imagine it to be very different than Igen, yeah? Ye do your chores, salute th' riders, keep yer nose clean."


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Galleries

Stone benches rise up.. and up.. and up: grooves upon grooves show marks of their hand-hewn origins, small chips and uneven textures to tell the tale of humble beginnings in a place which looks upon the black-and-white Sands of Southern, a place of greater beginnings indeed. The Galleries take up roughly a third of the perimeter of the Sands: to the west are flat, staggered entranceways, ledges for dragons interested in watching the proceedings. Below and just easterly, a stitched-hide curtain covers the entrance to the bowl, keeping the wind away from the precious cargo often housed upon the Sands. It cannot help the shrieking of the wind above: though it is muted in this hollow, the intermittent sighs and moans of the thermals shrieking through the viewing-ledges above can be unsettling.


It has been a long day for the Igenese trader- assistant currently basking in the reflective warmth generated by the Hatching Sands, and while she is not napping, Naneska does have the half-hooded eyes of someone who isn't that far off, just after dinner is far too early for her to seek her cot. But still, there is a hint of contentment lingering in the soft smile on her face, even as she pulls the edges of her jacket closer together and rests booted feet on the back of the chair in front, causing a small mountain to be made with her long leather-clad legs. Her hazel eyes turned speculatively upon the still soft clutch. "I'd wager that 'un's a blue." She points out Sail On Egg with a jerk of her chin to the group of younger teens to her left. Clearly she's not shy!

Freed from her day's works, Ryott's knot was off the moment she cleared her office door. Dressed in her oilcloth trenchcoat, she wanders into the galleries just in time to hear Naneska's wager on one of the eggs. "Why? Because it's blue? That's never an indicator." She scoffs dryly as she finds herself a seat a few rows back from the Candidate, leaning back to let her arm rest on the back of the bench as her legs stretch out before her, crossing at the ankles.

Naneska shoots a quick wink towards the newcomer to the discussion from the side that isn't facing the teens. "Nah, it's cos o' th' dimples." She nods sagely, morphing the gesture of wisdom to one of greeting, the wink clearly doesn't count. "Ye kin see th' dimples yeah?" Are there dimples on the egg? Or is Naneska just twitting those who don't know any better? It remains to be seen, because at about that point, the teens are herded out by one of the lower caverns women with the promise that "The weyrs dishes will not wash themselves!"

If Ryott sees dimples or not, is not readily apparent, since her expression doesn't change one bit from that slightly bored look on her face. Reaching into her coat, she retrieves a breadroll from one side and a little pad of butter in a piece of waxed hide from the other. Without any kind of utensil, she merely dips the warm bread in the butter and then brings it to her mouth for a thoughtful chew. "They've all go dimples when there this new though. When they harden up those dimples disappear." She deadpans before doing another dip then bite of her bread.

Now that Ryott is the only person close enough to focus upon, Naneska does just that. "No need t' tell craft secrets if ye don't have too." That hint of foxy mischief lingers about her befringed features before dropping slightly with thought. "Is draagonridin' a craft or more a…" Here words fail her for the moment, even as she watches the consumption of bread and butter. "…way o' life?" She decides eventually. "There is certainly life in those." Her attention is dragged back to the eggs, which hold as much fascination for her as they did for the dearly departed teens, for all that she's hiding it better. "Ye've been here before yeah?" Perhaps she's assuming that Ryott is nothing more than herself, another older wiser candidate to add to the pool.

"Well…." Ryott drawls, considering the question for a moment as she tilts her head to one side thoughtfully before tearing another mouthful of bread off the whole. "Considering that you can presumably quit a craft, but you can't say the same about drgonriding, I would say the latter." She finally concludes as she licks melted butter off her fingertips. To her last, she dips her head. "Aye, been here a few turns already, long enough to see my share of hatchings up close." Which is true, but vague enough not to contradict the idea that she could very well be another lucky white-knotted person.

Naneska wrinkles her nose in sympathy. "I've not done this often, but ye're a brave one t' keep at it." Yep, that assumption is well and truely cemented even as she offers her admiration for what she assumes is Ryotts persistance. "I don't imagine it to be very different than Igen, yeah? Ye do your chores, salute th' riders, keep yer nose clean." Just as she finishes speaking a draft makes its way from the viewing ledges above and she draws her jacket tighter. "Okay, that's very different!" She laughs. "Tis hot enough to cook on stone back in Igen!" It's not a complaint, she seems to be relishing the occasional chill in the lambent warmth.

"Nah, I'm just stubborn." Ryott replies easily as she pops the last of her buttered breadroll into her mouth. "Yep, that's about the gist of it. Though, if a rider ever tells ya not to salute them, you better remember. Some of them take serious offense to be being saluted when they've told you not to. Just a little tip from me to a newcommer." She offers with a sober dip of her head in Naneska's direction. "Yeah, you got bad luck getting snatched during our winter. Though we seem to get an awful lot of clutches at this time of turn, no idea why." One the bread is done with, she sticks her hands into her pockets as she burrows a bit into the collar of her coat. "You get used to it…. people will tell you. But I'm not, and it's been Turns."

Naneska nods thoughtfully as Ryott offers her advice. "I kin admire stubborness." She admits with another bright smile. "It's how I learned t' shoe runners." And various other adventures that will be shared anon. "I'm Bitran back mountain bred, the clime here is…pleasant cool wit'out havin' t' wade through dragonlengths o' snow." She admits. "I might miss th' sun though. But the wet and the green!" She exhales. "That's something!" There is always a silver lining if you look close enough, and Nan is always looking. "Ye think o' any riders like that off th' top o' ye head, jist so's I don't put me feet in it." The longer the pair of them converse, the longer Naneska seems to relax into the easy ways of a trader.

The corner of Ryott's lips twitch just a moment when she mentions where she hails from originally. "Bitran, huh?" She says with no indication of judgement one way or another for her heritage. "Wet and green it is here, just wait though till the place starts trying to kill you. With storms the like you've never scene, and earth tremors. Even heard tell of some volcanos too. And that's not to mention the wildlings and all the stuff in the jungle designed to kill ya." She adds informatively before canting her head to the other side, scoffing softly under her breath. "Nah, you're not going to get more than that tip from me. That way I don't ruin the fun for you figuring out who to salute and who not."

Naneska listens carefully to the lists of Southern's hazards. "Aye, either Igen nor Southern are bonny Ista fer sure." She agrees, although there is a snort for the storms. "Ye ever seen a sandstorm? Flail the skin off ye jist like that." She snaps her tanned fingers. She, too, lives with danger! Or something. There is certainly a twinkle in her eyes while she spins tales of deadly Igenese sandstorms. "And here I was thinkin' we were on our way t' friendship. Ye do me cruel!" The protestation is given in the same amused vein as the description of Igen's dangers. At least Naneska is having fun! "I'm Naneska by the by, formerly assistant to Hannah…" She pauses to cock her head. "And I do believe Dhiammarath is th' granddam o' the clutch down there. Funny how these things work out." Apparently she hadn't considered that before.

"Aye, I have." Ryott replies simply over the sandstorm query. "I've been a bit all over before I came here." She adds with a shrug. Talk of being friends brings a lightly derisive snort from the young woman. "Don't blame me if you got the wrong idea. I just offered a tip, is all." She adds with another shrug and as even a tone as ever. When her name and former position is given, she lifts a brow with about as much interest as she's had yet so far in this conversation. "Is that so? Funny indeed…" With that, and a groan, Ryott gets to her feet once more. "Funnier still that we haven't crossed paths before." A shadow blanks out the moons for a moment before something large comes to rest on the ledges above, her rose-gold masked face silently slipping out of the shadow to regard her rider on the galleries with an annoyed trill. "Yep, I'm coming…" the junior weyrwoman says with stoney resignation. "Nice meeting ya Naneska. I'm sure I'll catch ya round."

Naneska would reply in kind, but the appearance of the golden face, and the clear summons just has her muttering "Oh…shit!" Under her breath. But she's not had the life she's lived for nothing so instead of a salute there is a wave and a slightly shaky. "Aye, catch you 'round." SOMEONE has some homework to do, which probably explains why Nan's running down the stairs once the pair have departed.

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