El'ai, Prymelia


Out exercising Soot, Prymelia comes across a lone bronzer.


It is noon of the thirteenth day of the seventh month of the first turn of the 12th pass.


Southern Weyr, Cove

OOC Date


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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.

Partly cloudy, the calm Azov waters churn here from the deep currents spawned by the volcanic vents. The contrast of greens against black against turquoise is made even starker as Rukbat's glowing ball of fire peeks in and out of the overhead cloud over. El'ai has staked himself a spot in the lonely cove, legs drawn up with his forearms balanced on the tops of his knees. In one hand is a bottle of booze, and in the other hand is the mostly eaten half of a sandwich. Dressed entirely for beach-wear, the bronzerider is in long, comfy tan-colored pants and a button down navy shirt that's opened to expose a white shirt beneath. All together, the boy looks entirely too cozy as the wind ruffles and disturbs dark hair. Far, far out in the sea itself, a dark beast writhes beneath the glassy-smooth surface.

From the direction of the beach beyond the rocky barrier that secludes the cove thunders the steady beat of hooves that slow and then halt all together. Or so it would seem. Not long after the snorted chuff of a runner carefully picking its way along the path that wraps about the cinder cone, mingles with the surge and retreat of the ocean rolling in along the shore. Astride the runner’s broad and saddle bared back, a young woman wearing rust colored riding breeches, a loose and long-sleeved peasant blouse of white guides the big black gelding down toward firmer footing, mahogany tresses free to the breeze. Upon spotting the only other living soul currently within radius, the pair draw to a halt, thoughtful amusement toying about her mouth. “Far from the maddening crowd or waiting for your ship to come in?” She queries.

The approach of Prymelia and her Painted Vanner gelding do draw El'ai's attention though he does not move from his comfortable seated position. Instead, he tips back the bottle of booze and takes a sip, the brilliance off too-blue eyes settling on the girl and runner with open curiosity. "My ship lies beneath the ocean, far out in the center," he comments gamely, humor flecking in the upturn of the corners of his mouth and the sparkle added to those blue eyes. "I like this place. The contrast of colors is a visual smorgasbord of eye candy. That and it's no longer," he squints as he says this, Rukbat peeking out from behind the passing cloud which does not do pale eyes justice, "raining. But too cold for a swim." Something in his voice suggests he's contemplating it anyway. "Don't usually see girls and runners here, though."

Soft laughter greets El’ai’s reply. “Perhaps if you wait long enough some of the wreckage will wash ashore, or…” Prymelia pauses to slip from Soot’s back, reins gathered in one hand, “it might mysteriously show up in the Black Rock river all quiet and ghostly one dark and stormy night.” A dash of the dramatic added with her mouth quirking about a teasing line. “Mmm,” the verbal brushstrokes of his description are given pause for thought, “its places like this that brought me back. And, it’s never too cold to swim. Its…” the fingers of her free hand flick as if to capture the word she searches for, “bracing.” A flicker of amusement continues to linger in hazel depths, her rein bearing hand lifting to stroke a fond caress to the runner’s sturdy neck. “He got fat and lazy while I was away. That and,” mimicking the bronzerider’s words with a hint of mischief, “it’s no longer raining.”

"If I wait long enough, he will emerge hungry and demanding," El'ai comments drolly, tilting his head back to take another sip around the half-smile that tugs at the corner of his mouth. In between explanations, another part of the sandwich is savaged between white teeth as eyes fall away from Prymelia out to the sea proper where the beast within does, in fact, show himself as the darkness of the abyss folded into sharp dragon glass with the flame-bronzen feet. Soon enough, he is submerging beneath the waters. "Bracing," once the bite is swallowed and attention swings 'round to Prymelia again. "I like that. So you went away and came back, eh? Wait. I know you." Now he's squinting harder at the girl, really seeing her. "You stood for my clutch in Igen." Memory tickled has now returned. "Sorry 'bout the no dragon part. I've heard that part sucks." Despite the rather asshole way the words are stated, the bronzerider is offering condolences.

Prymelia puts two and two together and comes up with: “Sekhaenkath.” Her gaze tracking the same direction that El’ai’s does, picks the big bronze out amidst the watery domain he currently dominates. “It always surprises me how they’re so at home in both the air and water, as if they were shelled to both.” She muses aloud and then drops a surprised look to the seated bronzerider, amusement soon to follow when condolences are offered. “Aye, that was me. And don’t apologize. I made a fortune.” A pause in which Soot shifts his weight from one leg to the other and the young woman tucks in beneath his broad head so that it droops over a slender shoulder. “Those were some interesting eggs your boy helped put together. Intense. Colorful.” Unsettling but she’s not going to admit that bit. “Does it all seem a little flat afterwards? All those months of sitting and staring. Watching and waiting. Everyone atwitter and preparing and then poof, just like that, its all over in one night.”

"Some are not so at home in the ocean, and some are kind of meh about water. They're like people, in that," El'ai states, turning from his dragon back to the girl, watching as she ducks beneath the head of her runner. "Did you? I did too. Through mostly betting against the high stakes gamblers. They tended to lose and well." He shrugs, his prowess at gambling hardly the best, but hey, he came away with plenty of marks. "Ehhhh. I'm glad it's over. I was ready to go home even if Rosie's was a fun place to be at night." He slips her a sly look, blue eyes veiled by the fringe of dark lashes, the dark scruff aiding to lend an air of devilish mischief to the expression that's writ upon his features. "I did enjoy my time in Igen. The place has lots to be amused by." Not to mention entirely debauching a young boy into a fun-loving devil-may-care young man. "But I was ready to return home and the sands are insufferably boring and the eggs take a dragon's age to hatch. And Tuli refused to see me as I was, but hey. That's what the women of Rosie's are for, neh? I used to have such childish ideas about women." He tips his bottle, a shade of bitter added to the lot life's dealt him, in a faux toast before taking a sip. "And Sekhaenkath produced a gold. He'll be forever proud for that."

The information given is filed away and a chuckle let loose on the matter of gambles that had paid well. Prymelia doesn’t however, share how she’d come to win what she had choosing instead to tilt her head and listen to El’ai with an expression of genuine interest in place. “I don’t know how you did it. I think I’d go crazy just sitting there staring at a bunch of eggs. I’d probably wind up drunk half the time. And naked.” Because its so sharding hot out there. “Actually one of those eggs had me wanting to get naked. That…was a tricky one.” Letting the reins slide through her fingers until she reaches their end, the trader gracefully folds herself down near El’ai. Close enough to allow for easy conversation but not so close that awkward situations of personal space become an issue. Just two little islands bobbing near each other in a sea of sand. “I don’t think I’d like to have to coexist with Tuli,” there’s a light shudder, “she’s like a storm at sea. Unpredictable.” That her opinion of Igen’s junior weyrwoman. “And if you repeat that, I’ll plead innocence by reason of insanity. She is beautiful,” one topic segues into another, “you should both be proud of that little gold.” A patch of silence in which sand is lifted and allowed to sift through her fingers, the wind whipping the granules away before they rejoin the other million particles. “Are we really all that bad?” The question is asked quietly and not given qualification.

"It's tempting to get naked," El'ai waggles his brow in teasing suggestion that means nothing for the bronzerider isn't really making any overtures at the older girl. Especially as she comes closer and takes a seat. From which he decides to watch her from the corner of his eyes, a fun-loving half-smile twisting his lips. "Tuli is all bones and no play. She's seriously about as fun as a stick in the mud." But then again, they did not have exactly the right mix too have fun, in the beginning, so he can be forgiven his impression for now. "We did a lot of watching each other. Her dragon. My dragon. Her. Me. I was mostly ignored, but that's okay because I got to go have fun while she was stuck on the sands." A rough chuckle of pure glee follows that. Yes, El'ai totally bailed on that aspect. Sekhaenkath didn't, but he did. "Aren't you all? Judging a man and then ignoring him. I dunno. I was a kid when I went over there." He nose-wrinkles and almost says something but isn't about to share a hugely embarrassing secret with a stranger. While she shifts sands, he polishes off his sandwich in ways that only young, growing men can: in one giant bite. "Want some?" He does, at least, have the grace to offer his bottle. It's top shelf.

Such a teasing waggle of brows is met with another of those silvery laughs, empty flirtations a game the trader thoroughly enjoys. “We’re born naked and then spend the rest of our lives being told to cover up. I say, embrace who you are at every opportunity you get. Though I’d draw the line at streaking through the Weyr. That might cause a few problems.” Such as people walking into walls and tripping over themselves not to mention SEVERE eyestrain for the older generation. Commentary about Tuli is awarded a wrinkle of freckled nose. “I don’t think I’d like to knock boots with a stick creature either. It sounds…uncomfortable.” Idly drawing patterns in the sand next to her with a finger and then smoothing over them only to start all over again, Prymelia glances over to El’ai. “And now you’re a man,” she quietly divines. “Life has a habit of doing that, doesn’t it? One minute you’re going along minding your own business and the next, you’re landed on your ass with the carpet pulled out from under you.” Slender shoulders shift beneath the billow of white blouse that only just clings to their tops. “I say fuck it. You only live once, you might as well make it count.” The bottle tilted her way perks a crooked grin into place and is taken without question of quality. “To living large.” She toasts and knocks back a mouthful, shuddering as it goes down and exhaling a low hiss.

The rough thread of laughter escapes the bronzerider's slips. When she takes his bottle, he gives her a tip of the head before letting his hand go slack as he polishes off the remainder of his sandwich. Until it's nothing but crumbs getting flicked off the ends of his fingers. "Growing up wasn't so hard," El'ai mutters around the chewing, "It's better than have everyone look at me like I've grown soft in the head." A sardonic smile tilts the corner of his mouth. "Living large, eh? I'll take that. Thread's up there," he gestures to the sky, "And I've a plan to fly fast and hard and whatever happens down below, it'll get me through until we've to fight again. Each time could be our last. I don't plan on wasting away down here in fear of what could be." When she's taken her swig, he's reaching for the bottle. "And hey. I would enjoy seeing folks streakin' naked around the weyr." Or at least, some folks. Others, not so much.

Handing the bottle back to the bronzerider, Prymelia awards him with a wide grin of approval. “Exactly! Same as when I go out into the jungles. Every time there’s a chance that some feline will eat me or some freaky wildling will decide I’ll make good breeding material and carry me away to his hovel,” again with the dramatic flair added, “but it sure as shit isn’t going to stop me. There’s a whole big world out there. Sitting in the weyr quivering in my sandals fearing what might happen, is for those scared of their own shadows.” So sayeth she. Of course, the young woman hasn’t really had to face anything too detrimental to her health but the sentiment remains. Curiosity is next to strike freckled features. “If you hadn’t impressed,” rhetorical, “what would you have liked to do with your life?”
Tipping the bottle back, El'ai listens to Prymelia while taking a drinks. "Life's full of freaky shit. Might as well live it up before we die." Morbid way to look at it, but his tone isn't morbid. Rather, there's a life force, an essence about the bronzerider that burns like Rukbat, held captive within. "I don't know. I Impressed so long ago that anything I used to think I was interested in, I likely grew out of. Five turns, almost, is a long time when you're that young. All I've ever known is riding and I cannot imagine my life with Sekhaenkath." He gives a shake of his head, tousling the dark hair around his face. Dipping his head, he lets his wrist go limp that's holding the bottle while he looks at her, squinting those brilliant blue eyes at the girl. "Tell me. What do you want to do with your life?"

Casting her gaze out to sea, idly tracking a piece of flotsam from a storm being tossed about by playful waves, Prymelia’s mouth curls about a smile. “I suppose that was a bit like asking, ‘If you didn’t have two legs, how would you cope?’, huh?” Turning her head, she finds herself suddenly caught by brilliant hues. There’s a pause, a little longer than a few moments worth and then she lifts a hand to drag strands of hair from where they’ve whipped across her face. “I’m already doing it!” Is declared with a triumphant note. “Or at least, I’m on my way to doing so. One day, I’m going to have a full caravan of my own and we’ll travel all over the continent trading and bringing back what the Weyr needs. Adventure, serving a purpose.”

"A bit, yeah," El'ai answers with a crooked grin. "It's like when you grow up knowing only one thing, you'll ever only know one thing. My sister," his head dips as he drops his eyes to the bottle in hand and takes another drink before offering it over to Prymelia, "Impressed when I was even younger. I went with her and that's all I knew." He shrugs, "But when it happens it's also like your whole world has changed and what was blue is now red but you don't know any different." It's hard to describe, but he doesn't take his eyes off Prymelia as he tries to describe it. However, the mention of adventure gets an interested curiosity flooding into those brilliant eyes as they widen. "Adventure, huh? Quite a bit different kind of adventure down here than up in Igen, eh? This place is unexplored. So much potential right here." He jerks his head out towards the sea in emphasis, though really meaning Southern as a while rather than just the Azov sea.

Taking the bottle back into her possession, Prymelia doesn’t immediately drink but instead sets the young bronzerider with a considering look and then she nods and tilts it to her lips. Swallowing with another of those little shudders, its handed back into his care. “I suppose, if you grew up in a Weyr surrounded by riders, there really does seem to be only one life path.” She then grows silent as El’ai explains how impressing impacts a person. Lips slightly pursed, she glances away again. “Is it nice? Having someone with you all the time?” Quietly asked before the change in topic whisks away whatever melancholy might have attempted to take hold. “I love it here. Its wild and…free,” that word shaded a touch darker than the other descriptor. “Hey, I don’t suppose I could beg a lift off you next time you go back to hit up Rosie’s,” sly the teasing curl of mouth for that. “I made a few friends among the candidates and I’d like to see how they’re getting on. I could pay you?”

"I guess?" El'ai squints at Prymelia, watching what she does with the bottle, although he's looking at her as well. "I mean it's like having yourself with you all the time, only not quite yourself. It's a friend, but friend is such shittastic word to use for what a lifemate is. It's…" He waves his hand back and forth where he's got his wrists draped across his knees, "… Like if you were to cut yourself in half, then stitch yourself back together so you can't get away. Sometimes it's good, sometimes it's okay. When the mouthier parts of you won't shut up, it's not always so good, you know?" He shrugs and falls silent as explaining the life of a dragonrider to a non rider is fairly difficult. "I don't know if I'll be going back to Rosei's per se," let's face it, he likely will, "but I can give you a ride, sure. It's only like three seconds away. It takes longer to mount the dragon than it does to fly there." A rakish grin is tossed the girl's way even as he's reaching for his bottle.

Brows of dark mahogany stitch together in concentration, what El’ai tries to explain requiring another burning mouthful of booze if she’s to even try to understand. And then the bottle is once again his. “So its like living with yourself except…not. You share everything but sometimes don’t always agree?” Her naturally husky tone seared a little more so due to the effect of the alcohol. “Must be nice to grow up with though. Having someone there to bounce things off of or catch you when you fuck up.” Prymelia goes on to muse. “There was this one egg back in Igen that sort of made you want to melt into its arms and stay there forever so I guess…I can understand that.” Caught within some or other internal contemplation, the trader brightens out of it with a smile when her request is granted. “You just say what it is you want in return, and its yours.” She grandly offers.

"It is, it was. I mean, it's nice he's still here," El'ai states, squinting at Prymelia again. "And it's kind of like that, yeah. Although he's changing now that I'm getting older, so somethings aren't quite like the same as before." Which is a relief, given the slight ripple to the bronzerider's demeanor. "Eggs. They're fucked up little shits, let me tell you. My sister's fellow junior, when she laid her eggs, they did some crazy shit." The boy's picked up a penchant for cursing in this time in Igen, too, it'd seem. "It's six seconds. It's not like it's that much effort," the young man's natural goodness shines through here, beneath all the tarnish of life. "You gonna try to Stand again? Or you think you're done with that?"

“So he sort of went from a father figure to like…an older brother?” Prymelia asks trying to wrap her head about the evolution of such a tightly bonded relationship. The cursing rolls right off her back like water over the deck of a ship for if El’ai were ever to witness her in full sail of fury, he might be offering a bar of soap for her mouth. Nevertheless amusement spills in a chuckle. “Aye, someone told me that what you experience with the egg is very rarely what the bond with the dragon inside would be like.” Dropping the handful of sand she’d been dribbling into a little pile, the trader dusts her hands together and then goes very, very still at the question put to her. “I…I don’t know. It’s a long time to be off the road and it means twice the work to try and pick up with my trading contacts again. If there were a way to do both, then possibly?” Uncertainty slips across her tone and shades hazel eyes when they lift to the particular brilliance of the bronzerider’s. “I know, that makes me seem inordinately selfish. Wanting my cake and eating it too.” A wry little smile curls to a corner of her mouth.
"Kind of. He's always been as he was, but everything is better understood now, and he does not have to be careful around me like he used to," El'ai clumsily explains this, but is more than game to switch to the topic of eggs. "Yeah, they're lying little shits." It's said with a smile, however. He does, however, fall silent listening to her voice her thoughts. The intensity of his gaze never wavers, nor does he hide the keen intelligence behind the brilliance of too-blue eyes. Instead, he waits until she's done and manages a half-smile, "Impression means giving up that part of your life, but the thing is…" Biting the side of his lip, he tilts his head back and downs another swig and hands the bottle back to her, "… you won't remember this version of your life like you think you would. It's not like you will yearn for what you had, because you will be consumed by your new life."

Not sure why a dragon would need to be careful around its rider Prymelia instead latches onto the comment made about eggs. “I’ll be sure to remember that if ever I get to touch any again.” Amused. Unsettled. The first on open display, the latter well hidden. Taking the bottle the trader follows suit and sends another sluice of warming brew down her gullet. At this rate, she’ll be lucky to stay upright on her ride back to the stables. “Its not that,” she qualifies handing the bottle back, tightening her hold on the reins when Soot begins an impatient bobbing of head. “Its more if I don’t impress. Been there, done that, made a tidy little sum but now have a whole shitload of stuff to catch up on as a result.” Wryly given before there’s a soft sigh and an apologetic look sent to El’ai, “But now apparently someone is insisting on some attention.” Spoken as Soot ambles a step closer and nudges her in the back eliciting a quiet laugh from Prymelia. “Thank you,” this goes to the bronzerider, “for the company and the booze and…well, it was nice to just sit and talk for a bit and be reminded what really counts in this old life of ours.”

"If you don't Impress, yeah." El'ai's almost cavalier attitude isn't cruelty but more as a fact of life. You impress or you don't, there's no in between. "But if it's a life you want," he takes the bottle back and eyes her. "It's something you play for keeps. Maybe you didn't Impress before because you weren't feeling Impression as much as you were feeling the marks being made." Brows raise as he poses the question to her, though the crooked smile that follows is endearing and sweet and somewhat of a rascal. "Yeah, it was nice to sit and talk. You seem like an interesting girl, Prymelia of the Road," this could be a tease, "Be careful on your way back, yeh? The road is long and full of shadows." He could be talking about the actual road or the road of her life, but El'ai doesn't necessarily present that deep of a demeanor. Still, one isn't always as one seems. "I intend to get drunk on the beach, maybe skinny dip and maybe pass out. 'Tis my day off see." Which is his fun loving fare-the-well.

El’ai’s comment about why it might have been that she didn’t impress hits home harder than he might realize showing only briefly in the slight tightening of freckled features. It doesn’t last long. How can it when faced with the expression of loveable rogue. “Mmm, or maybe those dragons weren’t quite up to dealing with me for the rest of their natural lives,” Prymelia quips in return and then laughs as the descriptor he chooses to bestow her with. “You might change you mind about that at some point.” Standing, she grabs a fistful of thick ebony mane and with a push of heels to sand swings up onto the runner’s broad back. Arranging the reins in her hands the bronzerider is afforded a snicker of approval. “Just be sure the fish don’t nibble off your dangly bits,” she advises with a wicked glimmer to expressive hazel eyes and gently nudges heels to ribs and gives Soot his head. “Enjoy the day off, El’ai. And do try to come back in one piece. Girls Pernwide would lament and wail if you didn’t, I’m sure.” That last floating back over her shoulder with airy amusement as runner and rider head back the way they’d come, leaving the bronzerider in peace.

In final burst of laughter, El'ai yells after her in good-natured tease, "That's right. You just think of my dangly bits!" But then he's falling back, back into the sand with arms flung wide as Rukbat's watery light pours down. It's ultimate freedom this. And it's time to enjoy it.

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