Who

D'ren, Hannah

What

D'ren brings Hannah tea. They talk about all sorts of stuff!

When

It is afternoon of the thirteenth day of the twelfth month of the first turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Council Room

OOC Date

 



Council Room

Spacious, this room is cut from the same scale as the living caverns: vast and given to inspiring awe for those who enter. The floor is tiled in a shining cross-hatch of dark and light, an ironic chessboard setting for the looming and overlarge council table. Weathered it is, long and rectangular, with a matching sideboard twice again as long as it is. This is a room for meetings, for work, for decisions: such is evident by the hearth in the corner, and the always-fresh pot of klah.


It is hotter than ten shades of hell in Southern, and along with the humidity index, the place is positively sweltering. Most folks who visit during the height of Summer will find the inner parts of the weyr much more to their liking than the outside places. With Rukbat's burning yellow light blazing like a great ball of fire in the sky, it's no wonder that Hannah has lingered in the Council Chambers from the mornings meetings. She presses a bit of cloth to her nose and sniffles, surreptitious this action while trying to focus on the hides before her. The quiet is broken only by the shuffle of hides and the dim cries of people working and playing outside. The cooler reaches of the weyr's inner confines lend thread of relief that comes by way of whirling eddies of airflow. Still, the junior weyrwoman is dressed entirely in clothing that relieves the heat: thin-strapped lavender top, loose enough to mask what remains of her former pregnant body and a short, white skirt paired with thin, strappy sandals. Her hair is piled atop her head in a messy bun, tendrils of moon-pale hair falling down to stick to her neck. A glass of ice water sits melting on the stone table, condensation puddling at the base with the slow, languid slide of drops that form as the water slowly turns tepid.

Why D'ren is in Southern is obvious - his son is a Candidate. Why he's in the Council Chambers though… His foot taps the door and he pokes his head in. "Ma'am?" He steps in and the Istan bronzerider is carrying a tray, with a folio of hides to one side. The other side? Looks like iced tea and a bowl of sliced fruit.

Hannah looks up, quickly stuffing that bit of hanky into the pocket of her skirt, and stands. "Sir?" Her eyes flick to the knot at the man's shoulder and then up to offer a friendly — if a shade tentative — smile. "You've got a tray of temptation in your hands there, Istan." Warmth exists in the junior's smile as she waves him to any of the plethora of available seats before re-taking her own. "You stole our Weyrwoman," she chides, teasing.

D'ren clears his throat and looks down at the tray as he walks forward to set the tray down on a clear spot, and then he takes a seat. "Ah…not me, personally, but yes," he says with a slightly crooked smile. "We are grateful for it, believe me." His eyes are a bit shadowed, speaking of the grief that Ista has suffered, losing their Senior. "I was asked to deliver those hides," he adds, nodding to the folio. "The rest…I thought was polite." Already he's being used as a bit of a go-between courier from Ista, since he'll be in Southern often to see his boy.

"My condolences for you loss, bronzerider," Hannah states quietly, her own face falling as she turns her eyes away to stare at the hides in front of her. She toys with a stylus before lifting her eyes to smile slightly, "My name is Hannah." Which he probably knew considering the state of his weyr and Lendai's transfer, but still it's offered as polite. "Thank you, it is much appreciated," she tugs the tray closer and pulls a piece of fruit off of it. "Your boy is a Candidate, is he not?" Emerald green eyes squint thoughtfully at D'ren, easier now that he's sitting down.

D'ren dips his head a bit, accepting her condolences. "Thank you, ma'am. Hannah. Well met. I'm D'ren." He looks a bit surprised she knows, but then he smiles, a touch of pride to his gaze. "He is, yes, and hopefully not getting into too much mischief.

Hannah makes it her business to know as many of the non-Southern Candidates as possible that stems back from their first Searching of Southern Weyr. "I'm sure he won't, but if he does, Renalde's staff will ensure he's taken care of." In the best and worst ways possible, says the gleam in her eyes. "Well met, D'ren," she greets sincerely, with another warm smile. Shuffling the hides to the side, she slips another bit of fruit. And the tea, the tea can't be ignored.

D'ren's first thought is that Renalde has a staff. A stick. That he'd beat Linden with if he steps out of line. The bronzerider frowns a bit, but then lets it go. Linden is on his own now. Can't be hover-parent. Well. Kind of. "I'll be visiting him quite a bit, so if you ever have anything that you'd like taken to Goldrider Lendai…"

"Something wrong?" Hannah queries gently for the frown that comes to the bronzerider's features. "I would like that," she continues on to answer sincerely, biting her lip. "I will miss Lendai, even though she's only three seconds away." That's how long a trip between is, right? "Still, it feels so long… there will be a gulf here in Southern." Her eyes slip, vacant from the bronzerider as memories flood the junior's thoughts before she shakes her head and reaches for the tea.

D'ren clears his throat a bit. "Ah…there's not an actual staff is there? The Candidates aren't beaten, are they?" Misunderstanding ftw? His smile is gentle. "It's hard to leave, sometimes, even though everywhere on Pern is so close with our dragon's skill. I'm sure you will miss her. Southern's loss is Ista's gain for certain, but none of us are taking it for granted."

It is hard to say which emotion takes dominance in Hannah's expression: shock or affront. "Staff?" Blankly this question is leveled back to D'ren with the calm focus of one who's trying to understand before coming to judgement. "His… staff. Assistants." Beat. "People who work for him." The junior weyrwoman presses her lips together and says carefully, "The Candidates are not beaten. We are not monsters here no matter what our body count may paint." Glancing away, she picks at the folio of messages from the tray and fingers it gently. "Yes. It is hard for things to change, isn't it?" She asks this while shooting the bronzerider a look from beneath pale lashes.

D'ren blinks, and then he laughs, cheeks coloring a bit. "I didn't /think/ so, but you said his staff…" Cough. "My apologies, I didn't mean to imply anything." He follows her hand to the folio and smiles gently. "It is. But sometimes the choices are change, or…well. Stay behind and die by a comet."

Hannah quirks a brow and presses her lips together to keep from letting laughter come this time. "Well, I would have thought of a different 'Staff', I suppose, were I to think of something other than his assistants…" Did she just make a dirty innuendo about Renalde? Maybe! "It's fine," she waves her hand in forgiveness. "Mmm, yes. Sometimes our choices are taken from us — where only one choice is really worth it."

D'ren blinks again, and then laughs. "Faranth I'd hope not /that/ staff." Beating…Candidates…Off…wait. NO. NO BAD. He sobers quickly enough though. "Right. It's having the courage to take that chance, make that choice…" He shrugs.

Hannah ducks her head and presses the curved fingers of a fist to her lips, suppressing the laughter only just barely. A few wheezes escape. "That would be," her voice is choked as she struggles to regain her composure, "an unfortunate, ah, situation." Clearing her throat, she tries to restrain the laughter enough to recover the depth of seriousness for choices, but it's still hard. "It takes courage to make a choice like that, but at least we are all here now, eh?" She gestures to the tea he brought — maybe he'd like some too?

D'ren snickers along with her. "I…it would be. I've never met Renalde, but I've heard…" THINGS. He laughs again, shaking his head in amusement and running a hand over his short hair. "Yes, we are." Leaning forward he'll smile his thanks and pour himself a glass. He was given two, after all. "Where do you hail from originally?"

"You're welcome," Hannah says, pushing the fruit at him too. "Originally? High Reaches. I Impressed at Ista Weyr, however, back before… about fifty turns before the big jump. Or something like that. I've forgotten the exact turn differential. Time travel is a nebulous, confusing thing." To that she has a thoughtful look, but then shakes her head. "My mother was Areiah of gold Ysbryth of High Reaches Weyr." She drops her eyes and plucks a bit of fruit from the plate. "Where do you hail from originally?" she counter inquires.

D'ren blinks in surprise. "You hardly look over fifty turns…You don't look over 25 turns." Time travel indeed. "Opposite of you actually. Born and raised in Ista, and then impressed at High Reaches."

"I am the oldest young woman on the planet," Hannah laughs, self-depreciatively. "Ista was my home away from homes, though my heart has always kept a fondness for High Reaches." She tilts her head to the side, regarding him to commiserate, "It's not the same High Reaches, though. This time's version of it, anyway."

D'ren tilts his head, emerald eyes watching her curiously. "Is it something you like to talk about?" he asks gently. Then his head shakes quickly. "No. Faranth, no, High Reaches is not the same. I went once, on a delivery, and…" He frowns, shaking his head. "I was very glad to get back to Ista. I'm sorry it's not the same."

"Not really," Hannah answers, somewhat discomforted by the line of questioning. "If only because it's a painful fact that I left everything I'd ever known behind…" To jump forward to nothing. "But now, I have my family — my weyrmate and my son — and now, I hardly look back at all. My life is here now, and being enamored of the past does little to cement my job here." She lifts the glass to her lips and takes a sip. "The more things change, the more things stay the same. High Reaches isn't the same, true, but some other weyr out there is like the old High Reaches." Or so she hopes. Anyway, it might just be a lame expression.

D'ren nods and smiles, letting it go the moment she starts to look uncomfortable. "I understand. Past is past. Congratulations on your new life. It's important." He nods again, sipping at his tea. "It's a nice thought to have."

A grateful smile is passed to D'ren as the junior weyrwoman lightly fans herself to get cool the sweat beading on her pale neck. "Thank you. A new child is something else entirely," Hannah murmurs, slipping another bit of fruit into her mouth for the cooling hint of juices on her tongue. "Is Linden your only son?" she asks, turning her attention back to the bronzerider.

D'ren smiles, "Is your son a newborn? And yes, my only child." There's that pride again, quiet but strong. "He's a good boy, just a bit exuberant. Sometimes he gets himself into trouble by just…" He pauses, starts again. "Ever had a canine? They'll go to something and sniff and then look up and go 'oh, what's over /there/?' and bound off to that, and then 'what's /that/?' and bound off to that…and fifteen minutes later they're two miles away without a clue how they got there. That's Linden."

"Etheran is two months and twelve days old," Hannah comments, proudly. It's unmistakeable the flush of pride in her eyes and the red in her cheeks. She shakes her head with a little smile when D'ren describes the antics of a canine, though she murmurs, "I can't imagine my child having that much energy yet, so I'm grateful he's still small enough for me to hold." This comes with laughter.

D'ren smiles. "Congratulations," he says again. Then there's another laugh, the bronzerider shifting his arms a bit. "They're never too big to hold." His eyes go distant for a moment, then focus on the goldrider again with a warm smile.

"Thank you," Hannah accepts brightly, and then laughs. "Well, I guess it depends on how large of a person you are. Not very many people I could hold in my arms but children." Waving that off, she grabs another pinch of fruit. "Th'seus on the other hand…" Is too big for his own good. "We will make sure to take care of your only child, D'ren," she offers, quietly.

D'ren chuckles, shifting a bit in his chair and letting his arms rest against…the armrests. "Thank you, Hannah, I really appreciate it. The weyr is so empty and lonely without him, I won't lie. But it's good for him. To be on his own, to be doing his own thing. Him being my only…I might have spoiled him a little bit. Sheltered him, you know? I wanted more children but." He shrugs. "It never happened again."

"Of course. As a new parent, I can't imagine losing my only child." Hannah bows her head, pressing her finger into the folio, dimpling it's surface, Then very seriously, she lifts her head and turns wide, emerald green eyes to the bronzerider to ask so very seriously in a quiet voice, "Are you sure this life is what you want for him?" The dragon rider's life. The danger, the life risking, everything that it means to be a dragonrider in times of Thread. Her tone implies that it wouldn't be too late for him to just scoop his son up and take him home, safe. "We might see if we can give Etheran a little sister, but I'm going with the flow of what life gives me." Tapping the table's edge, she adds, "Not taking anything for granted."

D'ren sighs, slouching a bit in his chair and balancing the tea on his knee, leaving a ring of condensation on his pants. "I'm not sure about anything," he answers her quietly. Seriously. "But if he wants it…I can't imagine taking this chance away from him and him always wondering what if. And maybe resenting me for taking away that chance. If he decides he wants to go home I'll take him in a heartbeat. But if he wants this…" He shrugs with a sad smile. "What kind of parent would I be to confine him forever?" His smile grows. "Have as many children as you can, that's my advice, and cherish every single one of them."

"No, I understand that." Hannah regards him seriously, pressing her lips together. "I Impressed in the height of Threadfall. I also thought I was ready, but I wasn't." She takes a deep breath and pauses in contemplation, "Of course, if it is what he wants, taking it from him would do him no favors and as a weyr, we — of course — need every able bodied youth we can get to try to find their lifemate on the sands, but as a parent, I can't say that my heart would be eased if my boy Impressed either." So maybe they can commiserate on that as parents. Tipping her glass towards him, she quirks a grin, "Says the man who doesn't have to crank them out. I'm not too keen on the experience again so soon." It's not like Pern has epidurals!

D'ren nods. "No matter what happens on hatching day, I'll be crying for a lot of different reasons." Then he laughs. "No, that's true, I don't. I still wish I could have more." He pauses. "Have a woman have more for me."

Hannah tips her glass to him for an entirely different reason, perhaps to bolster the man's future Hatching Day with Linden on those black-and-white sands. "Good luck." She means it, that simple statement. "Doooo you," she drawls in the breath between his clarification, eyes sparkling in amusement. "The woman part shouldn't be hard to find," she remarks, brows lifting as her eyes dart out the open door into the bright sunlight. "When I last stepped outside," she teases lightly, "There was a whole world of 'em." Women, that is. Not babies.

D'ren laughs, shaking his head with a tilted grin. He sips at his tea. "Ah, no. It's not /that/ that I'm lacking." Cough. "It just seems that there's something wrong with me when it comes to children I…make." He glances at her and then to the middle distance, absent. "Not being carried to term." Three different women. He has to conclude the problem is with him, right? He looks back at Hannah and grins. "But it's not for lack of trying!"

Hannah considers him thoughtfully, and not intending to trod upon his pain, the junior weyrwoman offers a quiet thought for the bronzerider, "Perhaps there was something wrong with…" A brief hesitation, then: "… the women's physiology." A deep breath is taken, a smile more forced than not, before she adds, "The women in this time seem to be able to have children…" However, it's his last that has her sputtering iced tea. "Goodness, D'ren!" That was a little too enthusiastic of an over share, there! Still, it was funny. "Go for broke. Go for all the weyrs." Except High Reaches.

"Three different women? More than once with two of them?" D'ren smiles a bit at her. For him, it's obvious where the fault lies. Then he laughs, digging out a handkerchief to offer to her when she sputters. "Sorry," he chuckles. "What, a child in every weyr? Typical bronzerider behavior, huh? And they'll all be sons and they'll all impress bronze." His emerald eyes gleam, amused at the thought.

"Well if you're going to aim big, might as well," Hannah wheezes, taking his handkerchief gratefully. "I agree that's tough odds, but I also think that might be… not the norm." She raises her brows, challenging him to accept the possibility. "Usually if a babe doesn't attach it is… a variety of reasons. Maybe you and the mothers weren't compatible for whatever reason. You might need a mountain girl." Of hardy stock. Hey, for all she knows, D'ren goes for all the fragile flowers.

D'ren chuckles. "I suppose it's possible. I /had/ a mountain girl." Again, his eyes go distant for a moment, then shift back with another smile. "So what would you suggest? Stop taking my redstuff and hop all over Pern? Write letters to the ladies I spend an evening with? 'Hey, it's D'ren, are you pregnant?'. Because I think that'd be awkward."

"You had a mountain girl?" Color Hannah impressed, although perhaps she's thinking too much like a wildling girl than a true mountain girl. "Well, you could, but that would be pretty awkward." She is not the best person to talk about this given that she has all the capabilities of making children and not having to hunt all over to find them. "If you're serious about children, well, the redstuff is a first stop, yes." That much she knows as true. "Then you could just find a friend with benefits and see what happens." Now it's her turn to turn distant eyes to the table. "But I presume if it's a child you want, it will take several evenings. Maybe just do the old-fashioned thing and visit with your ladies." This is one strange conversation to be having!

D'ren nods with a smile. "Yeah. She was tough as nails. Stubborn too. Real stubborn. Beautiful and sweet." He has to stop there though, snickering at the goldrider's other comments. "Well if you're going to fail at something…failing at making a baby is at least fun to keep trying."

"She sounds like she was fun," Hannah comments, tilting an interested look at the bronzerider as she again picks up her glass of tea. "I… guess that is one way to look at it," once again, this comes at the snort of her tea, coughing up a lung as she presses the kerchief to her mouth again, watching the Istan with something akin do incredulity. "It is, at least," she concurs, "not hard," oh Faranth the puns, "to want to keep trying."

D'ren nods with a faint smile. "She was and I loved her deeply. But." The bronzerider shrugs. "It didn't work out. Past is past, right?" He lifts his tea in a small toast and drinks from it. He sputters this time, coughing on his tea as he laughs. "If it's not hard," cough, laugh, "you won't get very far!"

"Until it's not hard no' mo'!" Hannah peals with laughter now, not even trying to drink the tea anymore, it keeps ending up more on the table than not. "I think," more seriously after she's cleared her lungs from all the laughter, "that if you let yourself try and relax," ahem, "you might find what you're looking for. A little boy or girl for Linden to play with." More quietly, for him: "That's the thing about jumping forward," she just takes a shot in the dark here, "but it paves the way for new beginnings."

D'ren laughs along with her, and it feels /good/ to laugh. "Then baby!" If only it were /that/ easy. He sobers a bit and shrugs. "Time will tell I suppose. Still young." And guys can make babies FOREVER. "I would love more children, I really would. Even now, even with thread…I really would."

"Then, well. Maybe!" Hannah shakes her head and draws her knees up to her chest in a girlish move for a weyrwoman. "We're all still young," she answers, as youth is relative to this woman; as long as she's alive, she's young. "But yes, I'm sure you'll have plenty of time for another family," she answers, perhaps assuming that D'ren's mountain girl got left behind and Linden is her child. "Don't give up," is what the Southerner suggests.

Assumptions… D'ren's romantic life is far too complicated to lay out here. "Alright," he says with a smile. "Perhaps I'll find another woman who wants children, and it'll work with us the way it hasn't with others. And you? How long will you wait before you and your weyrmate try again?"

Good for D'ren. Hannah's life is too good to see another suffer. "I don't know. When it feels good? I'm enjoying the one child right now, and with Lendai gone, my life is going to become more hectic until the next senior weyrwoman is decided." Which, there's a chance could be herself. Her brows draw together in concern as she looks away, caught by some faceless fear. "Th'seus and I aren't planning much of anything. We were lucky that we got Etheran so quickly after we started trying."

D'ren nods, hesitating before he asks a potentially difficult question. "Who do you hope it'll be?" He sips his tea and nods. "We're all still young," he echoes her earlier words with a smile. "Plenty of time."

"I don't really hope it's anyone but the one that's best for the weyr," Hannah answers, brows drawing into a frown. "I've confidence that whomever it is, will be what's right." It's a neat way to side-step, possibly, or Hannah just really thinks that way. "Youth is not to be squandered," she answers, tipping her glass towards the bronzerider again. "It's," a thoughtful pause, "too valuable," whispered into the glass before taking a sip.

D'ren smiles. "That's a good way to think." But there are three of them, so to his mind, there /can/ be a 'best'…but he doesn't push it. "No, it's not," he agrees quietly. "I don't think I've squandered my youth. Do you think you squandered yours?" Intense conversation considering they're just drinking tea.

"No, I don't think I have," Hannah leaves the conversation of senior behind, Lendai's leaving too raw to continue that vein of conversation. "But it's easy to get too caught up in the little things when only the little things should be cherished with Thread falling. Every day is a day we chance our lives and everything in it." She quirks a small smile at the stranger who shares this rather weighty glass of tea. "So when I go home, I always take an extra moment to enjoy just the feeling that I have that."

D'ren nods, smiling. "Good," he says quietly. "You should." Home. His is…empty right now, and he feels another little pang for Linden being here. "What's your favorite thing about Southern?" Quick, topic change again before the bronzerider gets too emotional.

A return to lighter topics, Hannah's expression brightens, "Well it's not the heat, that's for sure. Or the rains we get in the autumn that feel like they'll never end." She twirls the tea and looks down in it, thoughtful. "I'd say it's the people. We struggled to build this weyr — or well, rebuild it some few hundred turns after it'd been abandoned." That gets a soft laugh. "But it's the aliveness of it. The mysteries that still keep finding us and the lush beauty." Turning that question back around to D'ren, she asks, "What is your favorite thing about Ista?"

D'ren chuckles. "Rain though…shards, the more time I spend in Igen the more I /love/ the rain." Listening, he nods, looking around. "There's a certain pride in it, I'm sure. Ista…it's home. Even now, different as it is, it's still home. The sea is still the same. It smells the same, the sand feels the same. It's where…my soul is at peace."

"You wouldn't like this rain," Hannah assures him, "It's all season and only rarely lets up." Her attention swings back to the man across from the table, eyes narrowing a little in thought. "You have been spending time in Igen? Are you thinking of transferring to the fair, desert weyr?" Is that a play on words for Igen's hot, sandy climes? "It's home, is what it sounds like," she says to his description of Ista.

D'ren nods, "Yes, that's where Linden's mother is." There goes /that/ theory. "I'm…not sure?" he admits. "Ista is home, yes. There's no question about that." But is it home if it's so lonely?

Linny kisses D'ren! D'ren blushes but returns your kiss eagerly, trying to lead you down some dark corridor for some good make out time.

"Oh." Hannah blinks, looking awkward for a moment before grinning. "Well that's a good reason for going to Igen, now isn't it?" Now comes the part where 'evening partners' come to play and the look she gives D'ren is a 'you go dude' look. "Well," she sets the glass down on the table and leans back, regarding the Istan bronzerider. "Do you want to be there?" Ista? Igen? The question isn't clear.

D'ren nods. "Yes. It's - it was - good for Linden to visit with his mother again. We didn't know she'd come forward, so. It was a happy day when we found out that she had." Her you go look has him chuckling. "Want to be in Igen? I'm not sure, honestly. I hate the climate."

Realizing that she only has one tiny part of the story, Hannah lifts her brows in consideration but doesn't dig into the man's private life. She doesn't know him that well — they just met! "Perhaps with Linden down here in our very capable and careful hands," she suggests, "You can figure that out."

D'ren tilts his head a bit with a small smile pulling at his lips. "What…move to Southern?"

"What? No. Igen," Hannah shakes her head. "You'd said you'd been spending time there…?" she prompts, getting confused now.

D'ren ohs. Well Linden is here! He sips his tea. "Time will tell," he finally says with a thoughtful look. "It's hard choosing between places and people."

"It is, but luckily we have dragons that can take us to people fairly quickly," Hannah answers with a smile. "So you're only as far away from someone as a breath of between," she adds, "So I think it's a matter of where your heart is, isn't it?" Her heart is firmly planted here in Southern ground, that's plainly easy to see.

D'ren nods. "My heart has always been a fickle, stupid bastard." That about sums up his life, and he grins.

"It sounds like you," Hannah quips, "need to get that under control before you get on with the making of more children and the uprooting to a new home."

D'ren grins crookedly at Hannah. "Yes, ma'am. Though at this point I'm wondering if it's even something I can fix. Or if it's just who I am."

"Balderdash," Hannah scoffs, shaking her head. "I believe everything in life is about choice. I jumped forward with Lanti on a choice and jumped forward another four hundred turns on a choice. If you think you can't, you won't. It's easy to say it's beyond your control, and hard to go for what you want. I say, Thread might fall and end everything. Do you really want to hang your life on the excuse that it's the way it is because it just happened to you?" Her tone is gentle for Hannah is usually gentle, especially with strangers. Though she does apologize with the lowering of her lashes, "Sorry for being so forward, but…" She's not sorry for her opinion. "I wouldn't have what I have if I hadn't fought for it," she adds quietly, fondly thinking of her family.

D'ren lifts his brows in mild surprise when he's lectured by a goldrider. "I'm sure you wouldn't," he finally says. "My situation is a bit difficult. I tend to fall for people who don't fall for me. Makes me question my instincts, you know? When I fall, I fall hard. So. I've chosen not to fall."

"Oh." That's what he meant. Hannah holds up a hand, managing a half-smile. "Sorry, I thought we were talking about places to live. My apologies on getting too personal." With a strange bronzerider she's never met before. Whups. "It is advisable to be careful who you love." Not where, but who. That being a very, very important distinction, Hannah-girl.

D'ren shakes his head with a chuckle. "No need to apologize. Sorry I got so personal on you." Filters? Boundaries? Part of his problem. "Yes. I agree with you there."

"No worries, it happens." Hannah waves her hand, and shakes her head. "Talking at cross-purposes makes conversation interesting, don't you think?" So long as it doesn't end in tears and pain and rage, at least. Pushing to her feet, the goldrider hops up off of her chair and holds out her hand. "I've got to attend Etheran, but it was really nice to meet you, D'ren of Ista Weyr." She plucks the folio up off the table as well as her other hides. The fruit is almost all gone, as is the tea. "You take care, okay? And be careful of all the ladies. I swear, it's like shooting fish in a barrel out there," she teases, before offering a little wave and jauntily making her way out into the heat and sun.

D'ren pushes to his feet when she rises, looking to see if he'll get his handkerchief back or if he'll just leave it with her. Either way is fine with him, he's got plenty. "It was indeed a pleasure, Hannah of Southern. Enjoy your son. Clear skies." As for the ladies, the bronzerider snorts a soft laugh, grinning, before he lets her go first and then follows after her. Time to find his boy.

His handkerchief will totally get returned to him. Whups. Hannah is no thief!

Add a New Comment