Catryn has left the archives in favor of taking a walk on this beautiful day. Dressed in a pencil skirt, blouse and flat close toed shoes, a knee-length peacoat covers her up and keeps her warm. The slight breeze has the ability to chill her skin as the temperature is already cooling down, so she keeps a steady pace as she makes her way toward the lakeshore. Just being outside is enough to clear her thoughts. A slow, deep inhalation of breath is taken as the archivist seems focused on taking a break.

Merriment— or a drowning— is occurring at Igen's shrunken lake and since it features a lot of weyrlings the outcome really is a toss up. There's a big sleek brown in the thick of it all, playing the shark in the swimming pool with his abundant fangs and making all the kiddies cry. Or at least inform the supervising weyrling staff. Thus Th'bek is defending Tavuqth's honor but it's no good, they're ordered out of the pool, please leave the floaties behind. "…got my boots muddy for you too, wherbeast…." Tavuqth has no apology in him and is dry off with the finesse of a crocodilian. It'll evaporate. Or freeze this season. Th'bek is surrounded by a plume of vapor from all these explicatives.

Both hands are tucked warmly into her coat's pockets as Catryn walks along the shore, looking out at the water line that's much lower than what it used to be. This causes her to pause and then stop walking as she pivots to stare out at rippled waters, expression appearing as if she's deep in thought about something. Then there's a distraction in the form of a brown weyrling pair, so she glances toward them. A smile curving her lips as she removes a hand to warmly salute them both. "Threv—" she starts to say then quickly corrects herself. "Th'bek." That's better. "How are you?"

'Dingy, three-toed h—' freezes on the weyrling's lips when he's swinging his head around to view a nice…lady who happens to be Catryn. Th'bek's mouth happens to correct itself from looking unhinged and he salutes as if she were boarding an airbase. Not to mention his tone loses the rust and takes on some polish. "What warrants you out in this weather and the mud, lady archivist?" See, his tongue isn't all hellbane. "We're alright ma'am, doing as we should be: learning, feeding, oiling," poop packers, but that's absent in the list. "This is Tavuqth. Sorry he's not too presentable." Wet, covered in silt, he's enchanting.

It seems like an eternity since Catryn last saw Th'bek in the archives searching for some familial information. Her smile is still very much present as she steps toward the weyrling, careful not to stumble over any rocks or pieces of wood left behind from the receding water. And the mud. Well, she'll just stick to the high parts and avoid any squishy areas as much as possible — her footwear isn't the best for these parts. "Hello, Tavuqth." she says in greeting to the dragonet. Blue eyes lift to Th'bek once again: "Just getting some fresh air. Wanted to see the lake." A pause as she looks over the brown hide. "Looks like you've got your work cut out for you." She doesn't envy the lad at all. "How's your father?"

Th'bek sets his hands on his hips while centering his life-mate in his sight but Tavuqth isn't staying, he's priming a walk straight to Catryn, water dribbling to the ground in continuous punctuation marks. "Oh I do," the weyrling prepares while interjecting himself between the harper and the dragonet. "You look nice today, ma'am," the living fence/soccer goalie announces. Who's he kidding, she looks good every sharding day. "Unknown, I last saw him several days after the hatching when he announced us but he's been so busy with Falls and everything." And impending spawn.

"Thank you." is Catryn's response to the compliment. Though Th'bek's sudden movement to block the unstoppable force that is Tavuqth requires a step backward. Honey colored brows lift as the archivist peers around the weyrling and at the brown. "What's he doing?" Besides the obvious. Her tone of voice is casual, no alarm or worry to her words as Tavuqth beelines toward her in all his muddied glory. Hands are then removed from her coat pockets as she nods at Th'bek's statement about his father. "Ah, yes. I imagine he's busy. I often pass by him on way to the archives in the morning, I can tell him you said hello." It might prod the bronzerider enough for a visit.

Th'bek looks stern though it's something he's out of date on— relying mostly on 'unconditional indifference' until now. "Uh, not real sure, ma'am to be honest." He was actually pretty good with Celyshi today, throwing shade and nearly gnawing her shoe about as dire as it came. "He does like to smell things," before wrapping them around his fangs. "It's just he's dirty and you're so clean." The magic diversion of wing exercises usually functions as desired. At this rate those wings will look like a body builder's thigh. Tavuqth holds back and extends his wings and their moisture content. Th'bek, pinching his eyes shut, will not look at Catryn. "He's normally better than this, must be the cold…" Lies lies, sin sin, but there's no way he wants Catryn relaying her first impressions of Tavuqth poorly to F'dan.

Tavuqth's brow is noticed after Catryn observes the brown's wedge shaped head, eyes now scanning further down the muddy body of the dragonet. "I see. Well, scent is important. A very intimate sensation, drawing in foreign aroma down into the depths of our being." She might've read that in a book somewhere. Either way, she too can appreciate a nice scent because her favorite perfume is lavender — something she's wearing at this very moment. And speaking of… "Is he sensitive to new smells? Do you think he has a favorite yet?" Weight is then shifted onto one leg as she returns her attention to Tavuqth.

While Tavuqth is engaged Th'bek takes the opportunity to check on the dry area spotted on his left wing earlier today. It looks unchanged but has since been heavily oiled and should show eventual improvement. "I like how you put that, ma'am, it rings with a lotta truth. I haven't thought that scents could be a sort of trigger to different responses…" He pinches the end of his chin and holds it steady while seeing how feasible an experiment would be. "Has anyone ever told you you're brilliant, Miss Catryn?"

Catryn. Brilliant archivist, amongst other things… There's some laughter at Th'bek's inquiry and she shakes her head in disbelief. "I just read a lot, and my mind is very sharp with details." Hence her ability to remember call numbers in proper order on any shelf she organizes. Must be part of the job description or something. "Aromatherapy might be good for Tavuqth, yes? Some scents might be able to calm him down, just like others might trigger specific unwanted responses." Defiance, table for one. "Perhaps you should try wearing different types of cologne to see what he likes. Not only could it help him, but you'll smell pretty in the barracks, too." The Harper grins cutely over at the weyrling this time, blue eyes glinting with amusement.

And beautiful. Catryn cannot have enough 'B' adjectives. She kind of loses him when the word 'aromatherapy' is used in a sentence but the eventual definition has the weyrling nodding as if they share the same spectrum of wavelength. "Not if the cologne smells like fish roe!" But he's laughing and Tavuqth is canting his wings as they're spread and rolled at the shoulder. "I get it though, maybe the weyrlingmasters can offer their opinion." Who may be willing to offer the blood of virgins at this point. "Thank y'ma'am, you're a real star in the sky. I'd best stuff him back in the barracks and get him cleaned up."

"Yes, you do that, Th'bek." Stepping backward, Catryn offers another relaxed salute to the weyrling before turning to make her way up the bank. "And let me know what the weyrlingmasters say. I have a feeling that a woodsy musk should be your signature choice of smell." is then called over her shoulder. A grin at that last bit before the archivist turns and trails back toward the bowl. Her break is over and it's time to leave the beautiful outdoors for the dim light of the archives.