Roslin, Finn, Zalara


(Bit of a backscene) Finn takes Roslin fishing for the first time, with hooks she made! Zalara drops in to take a bit of sunshine - and offense! (Scene will be continued in another log)


It is sunset of the twelfth day of the seventh month of the first turn of the 12th pass.


Igen Weyr

OOC Date


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Lake Shore

Sprawled out beyond the Weyr proper's hustling activity and ambling roads, the cool, blue paradise of the Weyr lake promises escape from the oppressive hammer of Igen summer's cruel climes; the asymmetrical, sandy white shores hook delicately around the deceptively still waters running deep and sure, greedy peninsulas reaching white fingers stretching in crooked lines towards its center. A sturdy shack, weather-beaten and brown as cured leather, resides in isolated splendor upon one such finger, screened shelving offering a variety of brushes and fragrant oils housed in colorful tureens. Out beyond a small and dusty paddock ringed by a white fence, a long rocky pier stabs out into the lake, providing a panoramic view of the Weyr itself, while the southern shores provide varied shrubs and grassed for the massed herds in their pens.

It is the seventy-second day of Summer and 120 degrees. It is hot. Hot, hot, hot. Rukbat bakes the desert.

"Okay, so I've got that on there, and that's there, and…" Roslin mutters to herself, double checking to make sure she's got everything necessary in place before actually starting to fish. Then, there's only one thing left to do. "So, I just…throw it in?" is directed at Finn, a slightly concerned look furrowing up her brow as she looks from him, to the rod, to the water, obviously doubting her ability to get the line into the water without hurting herself or anyone else. "And do you really think we've got a good shot this time to actually catch something?" Dark eyes peer around to confirm that no one, and no dragons, are lurking on the beach and could potentially scare off the catch of the day.

"The sun is a BEAST today. Rip the hide right off you." Finn is staking out the uprights of a shade that'll do for them while the sun finishes setting. Canvas whickers as a breeze off the lake, hot as breath, blows at them. It's cooler by the water, though that's not saying much. Shade accomplished, Finn strips off his long, light tunic and bundles it up, tucking it under his arm. He grins down at Roslin, "Yup, just like you practiced." He points, "Right out there. See that shadow?" he's indicated some something under the water. 'Structure' he called it. Fish are ambush predators and like to hide before they strike. "Drop it right there. Cast as many times as you need to." He's supremely confident that no injury is imminent, but watches in any case. "Elbow up, there you go. And… release!"

Hopefully, hopefully, the stealthy look Roslin sneaks as he removes his tunic goes unnoticed by him, because she totally does, allowing eyes to watch his movements and then the results before quickly looking back out to the water as if nothing happened. After taking a deep breath, and a few silent reassurances to herself, Roz finally releases the line and the result is not to shabby actually. Not exactly in the shadow, but definitely close to it, causing a triumphant look to take over her face as she gives a little jump, head snapping to look at him. "I did it!" More or less.

Doo-dee-doo-doooooo. Finn hums happily to himself as he crouches to bait his own hook, oblvious to Roslin's covert ogling. He looks up to watch the line and the baited hook go arcing high, high and SPLOOSH very near the shadows. "Nice! That's good." He beams down at her, caught a moment at the look of pride in her eyes and a hint of the woman she'd become. He turns and with a smooth motion, casts, muscles rippling across his lean torso. He looks intently out at where the line has settled and draws it in slowly with distinct tugs. Satisfed he folds down onto the bundled tunic-turned-seat-cushion and sits back, leaning on one arm. He's put his line opposite Roslin's on the other side of the structure so that he doesn't poach anything nosing about near her line. "Oh. Thirsty?" Finn is! He sits forward again, rolling towards the pack he'd brought.

Satisfied that he seems about as proud of her as she is of herself, Roslin turns her attention back to the line, since now that it's in the water, it's serious business. She looks occasionally over at Finn to see what he's doing, almost mirroring his movements with his line with her own, pulling when he pulls. After all, he knows what he's doing; she hasn't a clue. Once she has a feeling for what she should be doing, she looks over at him less, using her own instincts to figure out when to pull and how much. But the offer of a drink has her attention back on him, nodding eagerly. "You think of everything," she muses, sending a sly little smile over to him. "Yeah, I'd love something to drink."

"Psshhh. Not dying in this heat hardly constitutes everything." Floosh. A hardened skin of water -blood warm- comes out. Finn digs out another. With a thumb he pops open the cap and hands one skin to Roslin. Popping the cap on his he gives Roslin a cheery smile. Warm though it is, the water cuts the dust and dry like a knife. Cold would be better. But wet was Just Fine by Finn.

"Are you kidding me? Without you, we'd be sitting out here with no shade, no water. Miserable. I'm sure you brought snacks of some sort," Roslin adds, giving him a final smile before taking a few sips of her own water. But then it's abandoned, flicking a chunk of her hair over her shoulder before she goes back to tugging on her line. "So. Do you men fish in silence, or is there a standard kind of conversation that you have? Talk about…men things. Drinking and muscles and women." And speaking of those things, mainly the middle one, Roz tosses a look over her shoulder to allow herself another peek of him.

Finn belly laughs at the 'man things.' Mostly because she's right. "There's a good bit of silence. And women. The drinking and the muscles just are." He flexes. "Can't help that." At her rundown of his simple survival precautions, he nods appreciatively - whether of her notice or his foresight is uncertain. Probably both, "These are all true things. You're very observant, Ro-" He sits up sharply. "Roz!" He thumbs the cap on his water closed and fixes his gaze out on the water where he'd seen the telltale ripples of her bait getting hit. "Looklooklook," he puts a hand out, fingers curved to signal Roslin not to yank the line. "Lift carefully, until you can feel some tension, and, see if you feel something hit."

Suddenly, the whole dynamic changes, and Roslin is no longer allowing herself to watch those muscles of his. Instead, those dark eyes are out on the water, wide, with her mouth left slightly agape. Wanting to do this right, she very carefully lifts up like he instructed her to do, and then there's a little movement of her hands as there's something unexpected pulling on the other end. Caught off guard, this is one moment where Roz allows herself to sound vulnerable and rather child-like, "Finn! What do I do?"

"Bring the line in slowly, if you don't feel anything, he's not bitten it yet, he's just testing," he shifts, eyes darting out to his own line and back to Roslin, "Relax," he says, voice low and easy, "You want to draw him out, make him think his meal is getting away so he'll strike."

Roslin's tongue darts out to wet her lips as her head quickly bobs up and down, hands shaking just slightly as she starts pulling the line, eyes completely focused out on the water. A few moments go by, and she murmurs, "Finn, I don't think that ther—" but then suddenly, the line goes taut, and the girl's face flashes with excitement and fear all at the same time. "WhatdoIdo, whatdoIdo?" she spats out quickly, knowing that she has to start pulling the line in but not knowing how quickly she can go, so she starts out with an even pace. Not too fast, not too slow.

"Steady," Finn grins, rapidly reeling in his line so that he can assist. "Oh!" Excitement flares, a flutter in the belly, "You've got him. Give a good yank to set the hook," He rolls to his feet, grabbing a little mesh net from the tackle and wading ankle deep into the water. He flinches as he comes out from behind the shade, uttering a wordless oath, "I think he's gonna be poached already!" He looks back at Roslin. Can she keep it together. "Doin' great!"

Briefly, there's a nod to show him that she's hearing him, and soon after, Roslin does yank on her line, and then she continues to keep pulling the line in. Really, at this point, Finn could be doing a naked little jig and she wouldn't notice— that's how focused she is on watching her line get closer and closer and closer to her, anticipation building as she is moments away from seeing just what is on the hook of hers. And then, when she gets it close enough to Finn for him to get it, she's yelling "What is it? How big is it? How'd I do?" before he even has time to get it in the net.

"Steady… all right, I can see him." He ducks under her line so his shadow won't fall on the fish and spook him, though, at this point, hook good and set, it is just a matter of time. He leands out, net dipped into the water and laughs at the barrage of questions, waiting… waiting… with a quick, smooth scooping motion, Finn nets the fish. "Look for yourself," he wrestles the silvery fish to stillness so she can see. Gills gape, open, closed, open, closed. Finn beams at Roslin before threading a cord through its mouth and releasing it into the water, secured by the cord to the upright of the shade.

The way Roslin's eyes light up and the way her smile brightens up her face, you'd think she was looking at her first born child and not a fish she just caught. For a few moments, she doesn't say anything, drinking in the sight of her first catch, and when she finally does say something, it's directed at Finn and the expression on her face has changed. It's more somber, contemplative, brooding. "Can we let him go?"

"Sure, if you want," Finn smiles sympathetically. He bends to untie the cord and free the fish, "Nobody's counting on this for supper." Crouched, his back turned to her, he looks over his shoulder, sheepish, "I always say a little thing to them," he shrugs, "You know, in my head." The cord is loose and Finn looks back at Roslin, eyebrows lifted, 'you're sure?' he smiles, encouragingly, happy to go whatever way she likes.

"I'm sure. Even if he's my first catch, I could never eat him." Roslin wouldn't last long out there in the real world if things got tough. Then, she falls silent again, likely saying something to the fish in her head like Finn says he does, and finally, she nods, resolute, with a big smile on her face. "I'm sure. Be well, fishy! I'm sorry if I hurt you!" A kiss then gets blown before her hand is used to wave to the fish, eyes watching Finn and the fish in the water.

Letting loose the line, Finn tips a salute as the fish flips in a flash of silver and darts for deeper waters. He sits back on his haunches, tanned arms draped over his knees, a rueful look on his face, "I guess your fishing career is over, then." He understands, he's disappointed, but he understands.

"I'll still come out here and support you when you do," Roslin offers to him, trying to smile but she finds herself frowning more than anything else. After all, all of this build up to fishing was fun. It gave them something to do, something to talk about, and now it's over. "I guess I just can't… kill something. Even if that something is as small as a fish." Faranth help her, but Roz has too big of a heart.

"I understand. It can be a hard thing," he scootches back to his seat on the balled up tunic and checks the bait on his line. He looks at her with sympathy, "And fish are easy, relatively speaking." Caprines screamed like children if you didn't cut them just so. Finn gives a bit of a shudder, looking at the baited hook of his own line. Rolling it between his fingers, he wonders if there's gonna be any more fishing to be had today. "What would you think if I caught your fish?"

"Oh, I'm sure. And maybe someday I'll be able to sit out here with you all day and catch fish, and you can teach me to gut them and cook them and all of that. But… baby steps. And hey!" Roslin reaches over to playfully thwack her friend on his arm. "Give me credit. I at least caught one!" That cannot be overlooked just because she had a heart and let the little guy go. His question, though, gets thought about as she takes a sip of water, and she has to hurry to swallow because of laughter. "If he was dumb enough to get hooked a second time, he deserves what's coming to him."

"Oh," Finn perks up, "It's not a 'never.'" He nods, "That works. It is about sitting and talking, but," he shrugs, an easy roll of shoulders setting the world to rights with a simple move, "Seems silly to just sit and jaw without doing something productive. Or, yanno, tryin.'" He looks at the bait again and levers up to his feet. Casting out to where Roslin's line was, he sits again, smiling at some inner thoughts. Sly thoughts. A joke just for him.

"Does it sound too much like a girl thing?" Roslin muses, since that is what girls seem to do. Sit around and talk without doing anything, except maybe eating. Or drinking. Or both. "Maybe it's time to be finally rid of me, after me incessantly pestering you for the past few sevendays." And even though she's the one who brought it up, Roz definitely focuses her dark brown eyes on him to see how he reacts to that. Brows furrow together as she catches that look, head tilting to the side slightly as she regards him. "What? Something funny?"

Finn belly laughs as he twitches the line into place, turning a lopsided grin on Roslin as he settles onto his perch, the seat, not the fish, "I thought you meant not wantin' to kill your catch. 'Cause that's pretty girly." Sorta like saying little 'thank-you prayers' to the fishies before gutting them. "Uh. Haven't given it much thought, really." And that, there, missy, is the real difference. "Just is." Then Roslin's coming outta the blue with a total change of direction and sentiment. "Fat chance. Onari thinks you're gonna teach me manners." He looks over at that tilted, considering look and his smile becomes private. Something funny? "Hmm? Oh," he dips his head, grinning sheepishly, looking out over the water, "You're gonna break some hearts not too long from now."

That certainly takes Roslin by surprise, and she’s quick to duck her head, as if that will prevent him from seeing her expression. It’s true- a small chunk of hair does fall to obstruct some of the view, but not enough for her face to be completely unseen. There’s a little grin on her face, but the blush that takes over her cheeks is really want she would like not to be seen. The girl takes a few moments and a few deep breaths, looking down, before she feels confident that her blush is gone and she can look over at Finn. But it’s not. “I find that hard to believe,” she murmurs, unable to get that little grin off of her face while she speaks to him. “The boys ignore me for other girls now. I don’t think that’s going to change.”

As Roslin finishes, "Aww…," Finn wedges the pole between some rocks and scootches over, "Are you blushing?" he brushes the soft, hanging fall of dark hair over Roslin's bowed shoulder, rough fingertips skipping and catching briefly over the light fabric of her shirt. He doesn’t examine her smiling mortification long. Tumping back onto haunches, the trader falls over, belly planed out, then twists, streeetching to reach the pack, pulling it half onto himself before sitting back up with it in his lap. He shakes his head, "Care to make a wager on it?" Rooting around in the pack he fishes out a rolled bundle and hands it over to Roslin. "Snacks," he says. Onari made up the bundle, but Finn remembered to pack it!

Roslin’s body goes completely tense as his hand brushes that hair back, while she turns a rather serious, studying expression upon him. His blushing question goes unanswered, mostly because Finn starts moving, causing the girl to release the breath she’s been holding with a shudder, but brows furrow at his second question, pulling a nervous laugh from her. “On what? That someone falls in love with me, and I break their heart? S’little messed up, Finn.” The snacks are accepted into her hand, giving her something to look at while she continues to consider the idea. “What should we wager on it? Marks? A task? A present?”

"Well, When you say it that way, it does." He shoves the pack to the side and takes up his pole again, sifting hands through hair fallen onto his brow. Slowly, slowly he brings the line in, light eyes watching the line where it disappears into the water. He glances at Roslin, smiling speculatively, "Let's say the boys won't ignore you for long." Duration, unspecified. "Mmmm…" what to wager? Finn chews on his lip, pondering. "I dunno. A mark seems like an awful lot," his eyebrows raise, "But less seems, you know. Cheap." He leans forward, resting forearms on bent knees, fishing rod held lightly. Tipping his head to the side, sandy hair falls again onto his brow. He flips his head to ineffectually brush it away, "What do you think?"

"The boys won't ignore me for long—-how do you know this?" Roslin questions him, pressing him a little harder to try and figure out this sudden conversation direction. Why he was thinking about it in the first place. The snacks aren't touched just yet, but she keeps them in her hands, which rest gently in her lap. A shrug is initially her response to his question, but then lips are pressed as she tries to come up with a suitable reward. "Let's make it simple. The loser has to do one thing that the winner requests. Whether it's walk around with your clothes on backwards or kill a fish," here, a pointed look is turned to Finn but she wears a large smirk. "Whatever the winner wants you do to, one thing, you have to do it. Even if it's walk around naked. But, we should maybe rule that out, because that just seems mean."

"Pfffftt," Finn rolls his eyes, "You're gorgeous. And sweet. If they're not already following you around, it won't be long." His brow furrows, "Could be you're missing their overtures?" He looks at Roslin, light eyes clear and direct. "It's no picnic puttin' yourself out there to a girl, so don't be too hard on 'em if they're shy. Or terrible." He chuckles at that last. He muses on a proper dare, a speculative hum rolling out for a good while, "Yes. It should be sufficiently embarrassing…" He flicks a glance at Roslin, "You're too young for naked, Onari'd have my ears." Doo-dooo-dooooo… hmmmm. "Backwards clothes," pshhhh, "If I had a quartermark for everytime I've done that, I'd be a wealthy man." And neveryoumind the circumstances that led to putting clothes on backwards.

Zalara comes walking down to the lakeshore and she's in a pair of shorts and a shirt with sandals. She has a towel draped over her shoulders and behind her neck with four firelizards sitting on it. She moves down to find a spot and she shoos her firelizards away so she can take off the towel and spread it out. She takes off her shirt and shorts along with her sandals. She nods to the others, "Hello there."

"Well…" Roslin starts out, voice rather small and hesitant. "What if…I mean, what if I already kind of, sort of….already have a crush on…someone?" The last word is practically spat out, having to get it out before she regretted saying it. Forehead as well as lips are wrinkled up, nose scrunched, as she looks over at Finn, nervous running through her entire body now that she's the one who has changed the course of the conversation. "Finn, I—" But then another voice is heard, and Roslin clams up, her posture and demeanor changing now that they are no longer alone. "Hello," is murmured through a smile, a look of almost relief taking over her face. Saved by the Zalara.

Finn's eyebrows hike up and he turns, giving Roslin his whole attention, "You do, do you?" He beams. So clueless. The sun is falling into the golden hour, lighting the rocks and sand with golden pink, blazing across the water. Footfalls of another person come crunching along the rocks to where Finn and Roslin have posted up, fishing apparently, a canvas sheet stretched between poles to shade them from the brutal sun. Nothing really to do about the heat. To the newcomer, "Hey there! Come on over here, we've got room. Sun'll burn you to a crisp out there."

Zalara has her backpack with her and she takes out a small jar to open it up. She takes out some lotion and she rubs it on her limbs and face anywhere that there is exposed skin. She moves over towards them, "The sun isn't too bad, you should try the heat of the forge, now that's brutal." She says as she brings her stuff over to sit near the others, "I'm Zalara, apprentice smith."

Now that there is a new distraction, Roslin doesn't look back. Nope, it's all about moving forward in the conversation. "Roslin," she says by way of her own introduction, letting Finn do his own before offering up, "Snacks?" The bundle is held up with one hand and waved slightly, as if that will make it more appealing. She's lost her appetite now. Eyebrows shoot up when she makes the connection— forge, smith. And then that look is shared with Finn, as if saying 'well you two will have lots to talk about'. Roz knows some, very limited smithing; not enough to make conversation.

Hmmm. Lotion. Finn points at the jar, "See, I didn't think of everything." He's fallible. A little. At Zalara's mention of the forge, Finn grins brightly, then looks confused. "You're a girl." He doesn't look offended, just confused. "I didn't think the Smithcraft accepted women onto their rolls?" There weren't any lady smiths amongst the Reika, either. Huh. He thinks for a moment, processing. Please give him a second. Thinking is hard work. … … Hmm? Oh. "I'm, Finn, of the Reika. I'm a smith too."

Zalara narrows her eyes at Finn and there is a bright fire that burns behind them. "Yes I am a girl and yes I am a smith if you have a problem with that you can go stuff it. Women can be smiths just like men can and we are damned good smiths too."

Roslin's eyes immediately go wide at Zalara's words, jaw slacking open for a moment, but then a slightly confused expression takes over before she takes her chances in speaking. "I don't think Finn meant any disrespect. I'm sure your work is good. I think he was just saying he's never seen any girl smiths, that's all. No reason for anyone to go…stuff it." But just saying that causes Roz to chuckle, giving Finn an amused look before she grimaces mouthing 'stuff it'. It's a gross visual. "I think the heat is starting to get to me," she murmurs, a hand reaching up to rub her forehead as she stretches her body out. "I think it's almost naptime. Whatcha think?" A nap makes everything better.

Finn holds up a forestalling hand, eyes widening at the fierceness of Zalara's rejoinder. "Whoa. Easy." he lowers his hand, clear blue eyes drifting out to the water to watch his line. "They must give you a hard time, hmmm?" he dips his chin, tipping his head down to look up at Zalara. For Zalara to lay into him like that. "Come by my forge out at the caravan grounds, we can swap techniques." He points a thumb at Roslin, "Been teachin' her some things," he gestures out at the water, "We're fishin' today with hooks she made!" He beams, the proud teacher. "Oh, I couldn't possibly sleep. But go on and cozy up there, Roz," he tosses a chin at the canvas shade, so the sun won't catch you out. Think about what you want to wager."

Zalara crosses her arms, "I'm used to men being dimglows about women working in what they consider men only crafts. I don't know if I can do that. Some things are craft secrets. I'm just an apprentice and right now I'm working on the making and repair of flamethrowers. I doubt there would be much I can tell you." She looks over to Roslin, "Have a good nap."

"Oh, I've already got something in mind," Roslin informs Finn with a rather large smirk on her face. Oh, if he only knew. Zalara gets a smile as the girl settles in for her outdoor nap. "Thanks. Someone just… nudge me or throw something at me if I start making noises in my sleep, huh?" It happens. And then, to Finn, "Kick me when you pack up and I'll head back with you, okay?" Because she does't want to be left out there all by herself. Especially when he takes all of his convienences away. And then, she settles into sleep, one of those lucky people that can sleep anywhere, regardless of what's going on.

"Pah. Secrets." Finn skips over men being dimglows. "Secrets don't help anyone. The offer's open, even if you can't trade." He twitches the line trailing out into the water, taking a deep breath of the hot, dusty air. "Flamethrowers. You're hardly big enough to carry one!" Er… More surprise. He ponders, "Though I suppose that's not required to fix 'em." He purses his lips, thinking. The nods. "Say, who do I talk to about getting trained for a ground crew?" Zalara would know, right? She fixes their gear and all. Makes total sense in Finn-land. To Roslin, "Oh you do?" curious Finn is curious about that smirk. He nods and sketches a salute, "Wouldn't dream of leavin' you out here." He looks over at Zalara, "You fish?" he indicates a spare pole that Roslin's not using any more.

Zalara shrugs, "It's not for me to say who gets to tell what secrets. I don't need the reputation as a blabbermouth either. You'd do better to ask one of the journeymen." She bristles again, "I'm strong enough to carry a flamethrower and I know how to use it too. I've signed up to do ground crew." She shakes her head, "I've never fished before."

Roslin was wrong, the two smiths have nothing to talk about! Stupid Craft secrets. He nods, "I can see that." He hadn't considered it, really. Smart kid, Zalara. "Zalara," he fixes her with a steady look, "I'm not trying to provoke you. Just surprised is all. Hadn't met anyone like you." You know. A girl smith. "Well, if you want to give it a shot, pole's right there. I'll re-bait the hook, if you need."

Zalara nods, "Good I'm not one to be underestimated." She moves over towards the poles and she looks at the shorter one, "If you show me how to do it I can do it. I understand that you aren't trying to provoke me. I'm just tired of the attitude that goes with being surprised that a girl could be a smith if she wanted to. Men can work in the kitchens if they want to." She waits for him to show her how to use the fishing pole and bait the hook. "So how did you get into smithing?"

"Clearly!" Finn concedes. The trader rapidly reels in his line so that he can demonstrate how to cast. Un-shirted, it's clear that Finn is rather leaner than the smiths Zalara is likely to be familiar with, though there's plenty of muscle there. The calluses on his hands and the burnmarks on his arms, visible when he shows Zalara how to hold and cast, are probably VERY familiar to the little Smith. "All right," so, "Hold the pole like this," he demonstrates, "Then gather up the line, lift your elbow and point it where you want the hook to go and…" there's a smooth motion of casting and the rod whickering through the air and the line whispering through the guides. PLOOOTCH! a musical little sound and Finn's baited hook sinks beneath the water. He points, "Try for over there." After she's got her line in the water (and he'll cast for her if it's disastrous) he answers her last, "My uncle taught me. Been at it for about ten turns now. You?"

Zalara nods as she is more focused on Finn and his fishing pole than his physical form. She watches him as he baits the hook and she does the same thing. She is good at following directions as she moves off and she goes to cast. She isn't as practiced, but she gets it out there without hooking herself or anyone else. She looks over, "I learned here. My father is a smith and I've always wanted to be a smith. He's supported me completely."

"Nice cast," Finn watches the arc of the hook until it splashes. "You sure you haven't done this? All right, watch your line for twitches, there's at least one hungry fish out there." He grins at the young smith, "That's good, family is important. It'd be harder without that, for sure." The two spend a good while chatting -NO CRAFT SECRETS WERE REVEALED- as they fish. Eventually it's time to head home. Finn rouses Roslin and the three make their way back to their respective homes.

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