Nasrin, Xanthee


Nasrin takes a diplomatic trip to Vtol Swamp Hold and she drags brings her assistant Xanthee along with her.


It is afternoon of the twenty-eighth day of the fourth month of the fourteenth turn of the 12th pass.


Vtol Swamp Hold

OOC Date 26 Jun 2018 04:00


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"Being here is a privelege,"

Vtol Swamp Hold

This small hold is a solid bastion of stone in the midst of the murky wetlands of the Igen River. However, the constant moisture and verdant crawl of insidious mosses, vines, and clinging plants gives the place a distinctly decrepit and even creepy feel. Stone and dirt paths wind between trees and buildings with a seemingly permanent seep of water emerging between rocks and gravel, pooling stagnantly in any low spots along the way. Living fully up to it's name, the population of vtols in this swamp settlement is annoyingly high in the warmer months, and the hold Healers have made something of a specialty out of repellant salves, soothing lotions, and bite and sting treatments made from local flora. This is not a locale anyone voluntarily lingers at on a regular basis - unless one was born here. Or nearby.

It is the eighty-eighth day of Spring and 82 degrees. It is a bright, sunny day with a gentle wind.

'Get out and see Pern' they said. Almost. Once a Turn, Weyrleadership tries to make it a point to visit each major Hold and some satellite ones to spread goodwill, tidings, and a least neutral cheer. And so, packed with parasols, and a retainer to help swat insects Nasrin believes, the junior and her assistant voyage to the river delta where the VTOLs are already starting to proliferate. "Being here is a privelege," Nasrin fights with her cream-colored parasol, either rallying Xanthee's spirits or trying to convince herself…

Well they also said this job would take her places, but maybe Xanthee now wished that whoever they were, hadn't meant it so literally. Knowing the reputation of this Hold (and how could she not, it's right in the name!) the young assistant dressed accordingly, clad in a long linen sleeved tunic, tied tight at her wrists, over a pair of light pants tucked into the tops of soft boots. With her thick raven locks braided down her back, she also wears a brimmed hat in hopes of keeping the pests out of her face. Unfortunately it seems the vtols don't much mind the hat and start to insistently buzz in her face. With a wave of her hand to discourage them, she puts on a half-hearted smile, "I am sure it is. At least I'm seeing new and…" *THWAP* the girl slaps at her neck where one of the insects had started to feast on her. "Exciting places," she finishes as she wipes the remains of the insect from her palm.

Their companion, an ex-steward named Fayatr, looks to be the type to chomp VTOLs straight out of the air. "Let me just say it's my pleasure to accompany you ladies, but this isn't exactly Igen Sea Hold and its calm ocean breezes. Either way, I can be up front if you'd like, maybe I'll bear the brunt…" Nasrin, not about to argue, lets him surpass her as she gets her parasol snugly overhead. "How kind of you, Fayatr. At least these aren't the drilling kind they're perportedly to have in Southern," basing most of that strictly off rumor. "You took my wardrobe advice well. Mmmm, you may lose the surface off that footwear though, are they oiled?"

Falling into place besides and slightly behind the junior weyrwoman, Xanthee just smiles at the older man and pipes up a bit, "Yes, thank you Fayatr, and who needs calm ocean breezes when you have…such rich aromas." See? Even at eighteen, Xan's catching on to this whole diplomacy thing. Adjusting the strap of the satchel she wears across her chest, she smiles back at the goldrider, "Oh indeed, I always try to dress for the occasion," she says with a lightly playful tone before looking down at her boots, "Yep, they've been treated and they are one of my older pairs, so I'm not too worried." After that, she'll slip into quiet, trying to take in as much of this new place as she can.

"Just to be cheeky, we came unannouced," Nasrin lets slide to her assistant, a wry smirk held on her pale face. "I like to catch people off balance, shows more of their true character." Avoiding a exaggerated puddle by circumventing it, "that said, Lord Melqade shouldn't skip much of a beat. He's attended every one of our hatchings for as long as I know, even if he won't pledge any of his immediate family members to Searchriders." A VTOL pings off her parasol and lands upside down in a puddle. Nasrin is remotely satisfied. "Fayatr, if you wouldn't mind arranging a greeting, we'll explore more of the premises. Don't worry, Rajakhelath has partially joined us, she'll afford a watchful eye." The gold negotiates the soggy ground and sucking mud with the aplomb of a martyr. "Now then," stooping to cradle a scoop of mud in her hand, "would you put some of this on your face?"

Xanthee returns Nasrin's sly smile with a lopsided one of her own and a bob of her head at the weyrwoman's reasoning. "Makes sense," she replies simply as she too walks around the puddle, they may be treated but her boots are definitely not waterproof. Attentively listening about the resident Lord Holder, Xan wrinkles her nose slightly at the idea the man doesn't want his family members Searched, "That seems rather odd. Don't most Holders think it an honor to have a rider in the family?" she asks because being weyrbred through and through, the girls has very little experience around Holders. Once their guide moves off to make arrangements, she makes a step as if to amble forward before Nasrin's words bring her up short, "Uhhhh…I would if I knew why I was doing so…." she responds very carefully, giving the goldrider a bit of a puzzled glance.

"The traditionalists cherish their appearance of a family unit, clinging especially tight to their heirs. I'll warn you, his son Qalen is quite the libertine around women, but he won't be disrespectful in his father's presence. But then again, you have Malosim while I have no one. The odds may be in my favor." She smiles with her eyes and lips both as the mud slides from her fingers. She rubs her thumb to them. "I tell you the truth, one of their best exports is mud for beauty treatments. Yes, mud."

"Yeah, I guess I can see that," Xanthee replies as she's enlightened by Nasrin, her lips pursing into a small smile at the mention of the son of the Lord Holder, "Is he really? I can handle myself quite well with that type. And if all else fails, a quick mention of my brawny Miner boyfriend and they usually get the hint. But hey, if you want a crack at him…" she trails off with mischief in her eyes before again eyeing the mud slipping out of the goldrider's fingers warily. "I think I'll pass if it's all the same, got a few more turns yet before I have to be worrying about getting old," she quips although curiosity gets the better of her and she bends to stick a single finger in the mud and withdraw a tiny amount, mimicing the weyrwoman and rubbing thumb and finger together, "It reminds me of making mudpies as a kid."

Nasrin has the quandary of cleaning her hand, which she sort of does by leaning toward a side puddle to rinse the muck off. "He couldn't fraterize with a weyrwoman, not socially," she's able with factual excuses, "and even if it worked out, I wouldn't be able to be Lady VTOL." Gamely, there's a puckish roll of her eyes as Nas air dries her hand with a few deft flicks. "Cremla says you're supposed to start before it shows you're old. Up until two, three Turns ago, she used this stuff like mortar." Lord Melqade's lightweight baritone calls from after the stairs to his Holding, "don't fall in, you'll deage to ten, twelve Turns old!" He also minds the ground for its larger habitat of puddles, but it's too shy around them. "Weyrwoman, you extol us with your visit. Let us retreat to the gardens away from these flying nuisances, come," a man of average height and looks, Melqade has a great set of teeth. Clad in a loose robe and tights, he has a necklace of heavy bronze.

"I figured that, I was kidding," Xanthee replies easily on the subject of the heir, lifting her shoulder in a casual shrug as she opens up the satchel of many useful things and pulls out a clean hanky and offers it to Nasrin for her hand. "Cremla huh?" she ponders this, the Headwoman is very well preserved for her age. When she hears the baritone call, her emerald eyes flick upwards to the Lord Holder, taking him in for a brief moment before she giggles softly in appreciation for his little joke, "Thank you for the warning Lord Holder, I don't much care to relive those Turns." At his invitation, Xanthee will just smile brightly, and wait for Nasrin to lead before she follows.

"…but who wouldn't want to call this place theirs?" Nasrin keeps her voice low and sardonic as she *SQUUCK* pulls out a foot out from the ground. Then a silent gasp for the offering to clean her hand, "you're too good to me. I've got to get me one of those…" envying Xanthee's carrisack. "Lord Melqade, let me introduce my primary assistant, Xanthee. Actually singular assistant, I haven't need of another." Aw. "This is her first time here." To SWAMPLAND. Lord Melqade, leading the way to a spacious gazebo fitted with thin-woven linen, effectively screening out the VTOLs and their ilk while still admitting both light and air. The garden themselves are water-based, reeds and water plants with almost as many blossoms as more terrestrial specimens. "Mind that flower," gesturing to a blue-purple blossom about a foot in diameter. "It will eat you. Well, after 30-40 days but my wife loves its petals so I keep it and walk over here. Had I known of your arrival, I would have planned something more showy, but please sit wherever you'd like. I'm humbled to meet you, miss Xanthee." He sits with two men knotted as assistants to the steward flanking him and securing the linen screens.

To Be Continued….

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